A bit about how the Harry, Hermione, and Ron's story has impacted me through the years. It started with taking a children's literature class where reading the first reading was "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone". I quickly saw why these books were being gobbled up by children of all ages. The lovable characters, the endearing relationships, the early teen angst of friendships, and the language- made up silly words made the whole thing, well, magical. The stories became dear friends of mine.
As the books came, so did the movies, and I loved them dearly. They were my friends when I was happy, and when I was going through my divorce and ran to Hawaii, I watched them over and over in the open air barn in the Hawaiian jungle. They comforted me as tears were running down my face and hugged me when I was high on silliness and new friendship. They were my go-to stories.
Years continue to march on. New friendships, lost love. The constant was Hogwarts. I could always go there. Letting my imagination wander in the joy of believing in magic.
Fast forward to this past weekend. My dear friend and I arrive in Los Angeles, and we are so pumped. Laughter fills the air whenever we are together. I adore this man. He is kind, gentle, hilarious, sees my dark humor and plays along with it. He is unafraid to call out my bullshit and celebrates me when I am proud. He is strikingly handsome with a smile you can get lost in. He has been my colleague, confidant, and closest friend. We have shared the roles of Harry, Hermione, and Ron, Snape and Dumbledore, depending on the time and personal need to one another.
Friday morning comes, and we wake with the excitement of children. Goofballs at their best. We wait for the shuttle to take us to Universal Studios. We hop on, and I squeal in delight at the sight of young children in their makeshift Hogwarts gear: capes, hats, glasses, fake scars, house colors. He laughs at me, out of joy, and I comment that this squealing will be happening throughout the day, so prepare oneself.
It is raining in LA. Something unheard of this time of year. I was told it is usually tank-tops and flip-slop weather, but not this Friday. This Friday in LA was a normal day in Portland. It was our normal. The rain helped bring the number of people down considerably, and those folks with umbrellas (I'm talking to you, LA) have clearly never used them before because I dodged being hit in the face over a dozen times. The rain did not stop our inner shine as we strolled on, to Hogwarts.
We turn a slight corner, and there it was, Hogsmead, with Hogwarts in the distance - the theme music playing, snow covered rooftops of Diagon Ally. The first thing I see is the Hogwarts Express Train, with the conductor gleefully greeting wizards and muggles alike, while smoke billowed from the smokebox chimney. I was overcome with childlike exhilaration and happy tears filled my grown-up eyes. It was all real! Glancing to the left was a barrel of Butterbeer, so naturally we got in line for the drink. It foamed like a fluffy fresh snowball. We cheered and took our first sip of the magical concoction. Tasted like light and creamy butterscotch, it was familiar, but distant enough to be a first time experience. The foam stuck to his mustache and we giggled like children at the sight.
Our next stop was Ollivanders, to discover how the wand chooses the wizard. A bustling experience with witches casting spells, and entertaining wizards helping all of us discover our wand match. My match being the wand of Sirius Black. I will let you read more about him if you wish on your own. My calling to Sirius was his devoted love for Harry. With magical wand in hand, I played with several spells along Diagon Ally - oh yes, wave your wand correctly, and magic happens before your eyes! My friend laughing along with my joy.
It was about time to make our way to Hogwarts, to experience the Forbidden Journey ride! I see that there are "test seats" outside the ride - I wonder to myself what that is about, and my anxiety gets tickled. I ask him if I should try it, and he says sure if I want to, and he tried to assure me that I will be fine. I sit and pull the handle bar over my head. It is certainly not for the claustrophobic among us. The light turns green, he tells me, so we are good to go. And this is where the mood shifts ever so slightly.
I become a bit quiet (which is a telltale sign of emotional distress in me), and he comments that he can tell my anxiety is already starting. I even checked my fit-bit pulse, which incidentally was racing. I laugh it off, saying I am nervous that the ride will be too scary. He reassures me that he will be next to me the whole time. Side note - I had to hold his hand during the take off flight, because it was extremely turbulent - a detail worth noting in order for you, the reader, to more fully understand his nature. We continued our trek up to Hogwarts castle. Pausing in the various rooms to take in the magic - where they learned the dark arts, we listened to the Sorting Hat tell his stories, and we got a peak inside Dumbledore's office. The walls were decorated with the framed pictures of talking ghosts.
My anxiety was peaking, and I finally told him, "my biggest fear is being too fat for this." He assured me I was not, and not to worry. We walked through the rooms and came upon a young woman working the ride and she asked me if I wanted to try the "test seat". I was extremely aware of why she asked me, and not the other passerby's. I told her that I had tried it outside, and it was OK. She smiled, and we continued down our path. We round another corner and the ceiling is beautifully full of floating candles. I reach for his arm and he tells me that it is all "ok".
The way one begins the ride is to walk onto a moving platform. You then sit down on the 4-seated bench-like contraption. A man comes over to move the safety bar down. He jams it down on my chest, and it makes a click sound. It is tight, but OK. He then shouts at me "I NEED 3-CLICKS" and he pushes it HARD onto my breasts. OK, that was click number two, and I can feel that moving platform slow. He pushes again while shouting at me "I NEED THREE CLICKS, YOU DON'T HAVE THEM! YOU HAVE TO GET OFF!" time stops. STOPS. The entire ride stops. He lifts the safety bar and I am rushed away by strangers. I don't know where my friend is at this point, but as I am being quickly escorted into a black back-stage-type area with harnesses and yellow warning tape or arrows, or something of the like. Empty.
I just feel the wind knocked out of me, and he is next to me, and I cannot make eye-contact. We are left there standing alone for what feels like an eternity. Neither of us knowing what to do. The door opens again. A beautiful large black man, in tears, walks past us. I don't have words, but I know in my heart what is happening. My friend tells me "that large black man is in tears, he just walked by." I think I respond with something along the lines of "so will I be". But the tears aren't there, just shock and what I had just experienced. A cute young lady walks through a secret door to tell me something about "safety and comfort" and I try my best to be polite with a quiet "I get it" and I secretly wished for her to PLEASE stop talking at me. She continues walking us past people in line, taking us to, the test seat inside that I had been asked about! I look at my friend, and tell him "please don't watch this", again, I am in shock - my words are lost to me, numb and confused, she sits me down, and I say "you're doing this to me in front of all these people"? Yes, the line of people move right past the "are you too fat for this ride" chair. She pulls the lever over my head, and tells me same thing "looks like you aren't going to be comfortable or safe, I am sorry, you have to leave". I am unable to even feel my body at this point.
What is starting to flood into me is the everlasting reminder my fat body is wrong. It has always been wrong. I see now that my friend is next to me, and it is like a knife to my heart. I tell him I need him to turn around and go on the ride. He looks at me, with his beautiful brown eyes, and says "we will talk about that later, keep walking." We walk to an outside corner, where swarms of people are walking into the castle. He tells me he isn't going on the ride without me. I turn, so that my face is away from him and the crowd. I ask him to please move so that I could talk to him without having to face the crown at the same time, he gently complies.
The tears are now flowing out of me like a river, and words are choked up in my throat. He tells me again "I am not doing this without you." I am dreading that he is going to be too stubborn to hear me. I am finally able to squeak out the choked words "It is going to hurt me more, if you do not do this. I promise you, I will feel so much worse, if you do not turn around, and do this." He pauses, and looks at me, and I feel my heart falling into a million pieces, and I can barely maintain eye contact. He agrees to go, and I touch his shoulder as he turns away from me. I needed him to do this, and I am so grateful he heard me.
I take the excruciating walk back, passing the happy families, children, men and women. Keep in mind, they didn't provide me an alternate route, so I can only assume this was by design. Tears streaming down my face, I avoid eye contact with all of them. I hear one exclaim his annoyance with me walking against the crowd. I hear it like a punch to the back of the head. I stumble for my sunglasses to mask my tears. I walk what feels to be miles. Past the Sorting Hat, and magical rooms and offices, past the beautiful Fat Lady, guarding the entrance to Gryffendor's common room. Making my way finally back to the entrance. I wait with my sunglasses on watching all the people put their things in lockers in order to make sure nothing gets lost or broken. There was no locker for my heart. I waited for my dear friend to emerge, all the while trying the my damnedest to stop crying, I did NOT want him to see me like that. I tried my best, but he knew.
He smiled gently at me when we caught glances. He told me that the butterbeer was trying to come up - the ride was adventurous, and his way of attempting to convince me it wasn't all that great, a sweet gesture. We wandered the little shop attached and went outside, and not another word was spoken about it. However, I am now carrying the agonizing pain in my heart, on my shoulders, in my bones. Mudblood.
I keep it together, for the remainder of our trip. We visit again, the following day. He makes comments about the rides being too "aggressive" and would rather not go on them. I cannot help but wonder if this is for my benefit, in order to help ease, what I am sure he is picking up on, my broken hardheartedness, and now extreme fear of not "fitting". And let me assure you, I was ready for all of the adventurous rides prior to what happened. We wander to other "worlds" and have a good time at various shows and sights. I hold my hurt deep inside as to not expose myself. We come home.
And now, dear reader, I am beyond grief. I am beyond heartbroken. I am so overcome with shame and embarrassment. My closest friend witnessing what I can only describe as one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. Not only did I have to live through it, but there is my dearest friend, a witness. My gorgeous friend. Not to mention the countless others who saw. I feel nothing but anguish and hatred at the body I am forced to live in. I hate it, with a hot knife-like rage. I am disgusted at the sight of myself. I am, of course used to being the ugly, fat, odd friend in the group, it is just something I have grown accustomed to. But after this, I just cannot. I don't think you understand.
