January 5: Terrible Hangover, Butterbeer, Harry Potter World

God what a terrible hangover it had earned him though.  He looked at himself in the wardrobe mirror.  He stuck out his tongue.  "Yellow," he thought.  The word yellow wandered through his mind in search of something to connect with.

Fifteen seconds later he was out of the house and lying in front of a big yellow bulldozer that was advancing up his garden path.  Mr. L. Prosser was, as they say, only human.  In other words he was a carbon-based life form descended from an ape.  More specifically he was forty, fat and shabby and worked for the local council.  Curiously enough, though he didn't know it, he was also a direct male-line descendant of Genghis Khan, though intervening generations and racial mixing had so juggled his genes that he had no discernible Mongoloid characteristics, and the only vestiges left in Mr. L. Prosser of his mighty ancestry were a pronounced stoutness about the tum and a predilection for little fur hats.

He was by no means a great warrior:  in fact he was a nervous worried man.  Today he was particularly nervous and worried because something had gone seriously wrong with his job--which was to see that Arthur Dent's house got cleared out of the way before the day was out.

"Come off it, Mr. Dent," he said, "you can't win you know.  You can't lie in front of the bulldozer indefinitely."  He tried to make his eyes blaze fiercely but they just wouldn't do it.

Arthur lay in the mud and squelched at him.

"I'm game," he said, "we'll see who rusts first."

Arthur Dent is having a terrible morning.  Aside from being hungover, Arthur is about to have his house demolished, with all of his belongings inside, to make way for a bypass.  It's called progress, I suppose.  Out with the old to make way for the new.  Of course, Arthur isn't going to take it lying down.  Well . . . I suppose he is.

Day three of Saint Marty's Orlando adventures is in the books.  A trip over to Harry Potter World at Universal Studios.  It has been close to 20 years since I've been to the place.  The last time I was there with my family, my wife was pregnant, although we didn't know it at the time, and my father and all my siblings were alive and healthy.  And Universal Studios was really nothing compared to what it is today.  Progress.

Now, although I drank quite a bit of Butterbeer in Hogsmeade, I am NOT hungover.  Just a little sore from all the walking and standing in line.  But I did get to eat fish and chips at the Three Broomsticks, and my daughter did get chosen by Mr. Ollivander to be measured and matched with a wand.  My daughter was flying high for the rest of the day after that.  My son got a wand, as well.  Both are in the house of Ravenclaw, so they also got their Ravenclaw robes.  (For those non-Harry Potter fans among my disciples, I apologize for all the confusing terms.  I, myself, am a Harry Potter geek.)

So, we rode the Hogwarts Express.  Went into Hogwarts Castle and rode some broomsticks with Harry and Ron.  Descended into the bowels of Gringotts and escaped from a dragon.  Later in the afternoon, it started raining, and it almost made Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley look even better, all lit up and gloomy.

By the end of the day, our little Harry Potter crew was exhausted and hungry.  The youngest Ravenclaw in our party was quite cranky, as well.  But I will say that yesterday was sort of a dream come true for my daughter.  She grew up with Harry.  In some ways, so did I.  I grew up as a father.  It was a way I connected with my daughter.  So, walking into Honeydukes candy shop and buying her a chocolate frog was really special.

Sometimes progress is good.

Saint Marty has a witch and wizard in his family.