PARTING SHOT: Disney doesn't guarantee happily ever after

Oh, sure, I could always watch that parade on Christmas Day and get my fix. But I wanted to be there – in the park where it happens – savoring every minute of the magic.

The Christmas after mom died, I convinced my sister I “needed” that and, surprisingly, she went along with my plan. Because there were cheap flights out of Sioux Falls, she said yes.

Unfortunately, we didn’t realize those cheap flights landed in some orange grove so far from Orlando it was practically Miami Beach. At 11 p.m., two days before Christmas, we were in a crop-dusting field that wasn’t exactly on Magical Mickey’s route.

We had to get a cab – which cost $200 – to get us to Disney World. There, we realized the hotel we booked was full (“Sir, if you had arrived earlier, we could have honored your original reservation”) and got alternate accommodations, which meant we had to walk to hell and back just to get to the courtesy bus to take us to the parks.

Undaunted, I told my sister (who, by the way, is not a Disney fan) this was just a minor glitch. “We won’t be spending much time in the room anyway.”

To take advantage of the early entrance plan, we were up at 6 a.m., ready to get the 7 a.m. shuttle to the Disney Studios. Everything went like clockwork and, then, somewhere around 1 p.m., I started feeling kind of punk. “Maybe we should go back to the room and take a nap,” I told my sister. Now, if you have any hint of my obsession, this is akin to conceding the presidential election after one state’s votes were counted.

She agreed and, three hours later, I awoke feeling like I had been hit with an ACME anvil. Unwilling to admit defeat, I pulled myself together and we headed out for an evening of fun and fireworks. My nose, started to run, however, and soon my eyes were red, my lips were chapped and an Ursula-level cough began to appear. We made it through the evening, saw the fireworks and trudged three miles back to our room, on foot.

Clearly, some virus not called Zika had settled in and wasn’t going to leave my magic kingdom. The next day, I looked like the Evil Queen after she had taken the magic potion. A cold sore had broken out on my upper lip, my eyes were crusted over and the hearing in my left ear had disappeared.

“Why don’t we just spend the day by the pool?” my sister asked.

She obviously underestimated my passion for a Disney Christmas.

When we walked out of the hotel, I saw a mirror and realized I was the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Still, I pressed on. We got to the Magic Kingdom, watched the parade (much of it, I learned, had been pre-taped) and noticed that none of the costumed characters wanted to get remotely close to me. I made it through several rides, too, leaving a trail of Kleenex. My head felt terrible; my throat had been lubricated with so much hot chocolate I might as well have wet my pants just to complete the picture.

Early in the afternoon, we made our way to Epcot where we were expected to get in line for the nighttime Candlelight Procession – a religious ceremony that I figured would be a nice touch on Christmas Day. The line was so long it felt like we were pilgrims on our way to Lourdes. I tried to visit with others in line but they weren’t having any of it. Just as we got closer to the ticketing cut-off, I caught sight of Santa Claus and had to make a decision – talk to Santa or stay in line for Baby Jesus.

I waved at Santa and when he recoiled in horror, I knew what my decision was going to be.

“Anyone behind this line is not guaranteed a seat,” an usher said 10 people in front of me. And then, like a Christmas miracle, I got a coughing fit, the seas parted and all those waiting ahead of me let us step to the front, assuming my days were numbered.

We got good seats, too, enjoyed the program and I teared up – not because my cold had gotten worse, but because I realized I had made the right choice – Jesus over Santa.

After “Silent Night,” I probably could have found Santa milling about, but I didn’t need him. An hour of Christmas carols gave me enough peace to head back to the hotel, sleep soundly and dream of one more day at the park. This time, with feeling.