I am already aware that I stand on shaky ground by telling a story that involves my husband's family, but I must record an experience that surely qualifies as a Griswold Christmas disaster! My husband and his sisters cheerfully agreed to gather in Columbus, GA a few days before Christmas. In prime firstborn form, the eldest prepared fabulous food and planned family activities to stir up our Christmas cheer.
Besides stuffing ourselves, popping English Crackers, drinking bottled Dublin Dr. Pepper and taking turns in the massage chair, our big excursion was to “Fantasy in Lights” at Calloway Gardens, a stunning golf resort in Pine Mountain, GA. The weather report was unseasonably warm, but rain was in the forecast. Undeterred (i.e. tickets not refundable for inclement weather), we caravanned an hour, willing the weather to improve. Besides, [not naming names] assured us that the trolleys have clear plastic sides that unroll in the event of showers.
As we entered the resort, there were already dozens of vehicles lined up for the "self-drive-through" later that evening. Those poor people (we sighed) must wait forever plus miss the narration by “Sunshine the Horse”on the seven mile drive through thirteen scenes, created with eight million lights (Fantastic Fact: equivalent to 26,666 standard 6-foot tall Christmas Trees)! By the time we parked, it was pouring rain. Thankfully we had four or five umbrellas between the ten of us . . .
Maybe we should have wondered about the confusion among the workers who were loading the trolley, but ultimately we were shooed onto a pick-up towed trolley WITHOUT clear plastic sides that unroll during torrential rain. When the first doubters started complaining we were reminded, “We’re making memories!” so the passengers on the end of each row stuck out their umbrellas to help keep the rain out
. . . until it began to blow sideways. (Later, I became mildly interested at how the water dripped down the umbrella pole, through my shirt cuff, and out my left pant leg.
. . . until it began to blow sideways. (Later, I became mildly interested at how the water dripped down the umbrella pole, through my shirt cuff, and out my left pant leg.
The rest of the tour was a clammy, drippy blur, partly because of my curiosity about whether lightning could strike my protruding umbrella despite the trolley's rubber tires. We could barely hear Sunshine the Horse, only an occasional whinny or clip clop. Sometimes we would pass a speaker reminiscent of old drive-in theaters, urging us to sing “Jingle Bells,” “Winter Wonderland” or “The 12 Days of Christmas.”
In good form, we sang quite loudly and happily. After all, we half- expected it to be our last time caroling. I pictured the 10 o clock news reporting: “Family Electrocuted in Santa's Workshop.” I admit there were moments when we emitted “oohs and aahs” over the lights we could see between our umbrellas and the plexiglass windshield, but they were quickly eclipsed by flashlights directing us to detours because the road was washing out.
Finally Christmas Tree Lane came into view—hurrah, we made it to the final two scenes, each with 10-minutes of narration. . . but alas, “The Night Before Christmas” and “The Nativity” were no longer on the nights' program. Even the camel and manger lights were shut off by the time we returned. No lines for the 6:30 show. No teens to help us off the trolleys. No cars queued up for a self-drive through. Just flooded bathrooms drenched visitors (but hot funnel cakes for sale). We shivered our way back home with a minimum of griping. In the end, the siblings agreed on one thing for certain . . . we will never forget the Fantasy in Lights--or make it an annual family tradition!
Clark would be proud
2 comments:
On the upside, you weren't attacked by a squirrel. Way to not let the rain dampen your Christmas Spirit. I'm afraid I would have failed miserably and turned into Scrooge!
Yikes... You persistence was definitely err...enlightening. :)
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