I love that lamp

I looked at the off white, folding table in front of me. Near the corner where the hard, plastic, brown border rounded the corner you could see where it had been dropped. In the break,you could see the construction of the top. A thin plastic top, given a light pattern of wood, covered the thick press board wood. On the opposite side of the table, I could see a dried patch of glue with glitter in it, the remains of a sunday school project.. It sparkled in the light coming the window into the classroom, which was also part of the fellowship hall, when the folding walls were pushed back.

I was gathering details, putting together the story from my parents. My Aunt Anita had won a trip to Disney World, a place that, at that time, I had only been to once before. Her win had come under some unusual circumstances. One of our friends at church was the store manager of a local Kmart, during a time Kmart was sending customers to Disney. He had discovered that he had the winning paper, which by nature of his job, he was unable to claim. He and his wife had one child at home, Tony, a friend of mine. The trip was for four. So, Anita claimed the prize and the four of them were set to go to Disney.

As I was told these details, looking at the dirty table, I was happy for them, but hadn't gotten to the part which connected to me. I might have briefly thought about the moral implications of claiming a prize you were not eligible for, but that part of me that likes the little guy getting one over on the big company was still alive an well. I claim teen rebellion.

Anyway, in the week before the flight to Rodent Valhalla, Tony ran away from home. There are other details, but it is probably important to note that his parents knew he was safe, just mad at having rules. Anyway, they now needed to add to their family of four. They needed a sixteen year old named Tony. So, because I was about the right age, in a time when identity checking was almost non-existant, I became Tony.

Disney, of course was awesome. We had so much fun. With food provided we ate at the Coral Reef, where we carved up butter shaped like a mouse. I don't that would fly anywhere else in the world. We ate at the Brown Derby, where Mary, the mom, got into a whistling contest with our waiter, the high pitched chirps echoing off of the large interior. These are not, though, the story which is most told about this trip.

We all had to share a room. After all, we were a family, according to the papers filed for our winning. So, we have a very nice two bed room, I think in the Contemporary Resort, but I have a little memory bleed on that point. Anyway, the couple, obviously could share a bed, but I was not going to share a bed with my Aunt. I was much too old for that. So, I slept on the couch.

We would get back to the room, get ready for bed and go to our respective sleeping spaces. I liked to read before I went to sleep, so I moved the floor lamp, which would normally be over the little table in the corner, to a space beside the couch. I was either reading something be Stephen King or a new rules book for Dungeons or Dragons until I was tired, then turn the switch and go to sleep.

I wake to laughter. Not just any laughter, but laughter at me. As I become aware of my surroundings, I realize there is something cold and metal across me. My arm is wrapped around it, not unlike a teddy bear. "You really like that lamp," I hear, followed by laughter. I let go of the pole of the floor lamp and the weight on the bottom rights it, I open my eyes and realize, not only have my three roommates been watching me, but there is at least one camera in hand. I can't tell how glad I am that this was way before digital and Facebook and the other more expedient ways we have today to fully share embarrassing events, such as someone mistaking his lamp for a cuddle buddy.