I am deep inside the Death Star, an 8 minute walk to the Kingdom its own self, the Magic Kingdom. Not for pleasure I assure you, as nothing could be less pleasant for a born and raised central Florida kid who grew up in the shadow of the Empire.
Once you enter the tractor beam you are drawn ever forward, with red-lettered signs instructing NO STOPPING positioned every 50 feet for a dozen Mickey Miles. Emperor Iger lives in fear of unlicensed photographs of the grounds and signage within the realm. Only by employing my new Yogic skills can I maintain an even demeanor that permits me to walk among the backslappers and bootlickers adorned in ears. Breathe in- hold it, breathe out-hold it, and I step lightly into this Magical day.