Author: Kara Mae Adamo.

I know this may come as a shock to most of you—what with my bubbly personality and typically sunny disposition—but I am not a Disney person. I actually harbor paranoia that, whilst walking among the fanny-pack clad tourists, I might be mistaken for a child and scooped up by one of the “fur” people and given a hug. (“Fur” is the term used to describe any non-human-looking creature roaming about the parks. Mickey, for instance, is a “fur.”) And so, though I do live in Orlando—Mickey and Minnie’s backyard—I have successfully managed to evade such horrors by avoiding the Magic Kingdom completely for the last three years.

And then I went to dinner with my friend, Alana.

It was a much-needed girls’ night out, filled with window shopping, wine, and (of course) dessert. (A side note about the dessert: it was a slice of chocolate cake on top of a slice of cheese cake. I challenge you to think up a more magical situation.) In amongst the obligatory girl-mumbling about how our dessert was justifiable because we were heading straight to the gym to do 3 hours of cardio and a thousand sit-ups the moment we left the restaurant (lies), we began to talk about work.

Alana, who is earning her degree in vocals at UCF, happens to work for Disney. As she is a performer, she has been going to the various auditions they hold every Thursday to see if she can become a cast member. Under normal circumstances, I would just nod my head and go “Oh, yeah? Dude, I could totally see you as like Snow White! (She’s the spitting image)” and then go on about my business, happily avoiding that scary place with the bright colors, screaming ice cream-covered children in mouse ears and, of course, the “furs”. The particular audition Alana was talking about, however, was different. Evidently, Disney is holding its annual Star Wars show, and so an open casting call was being held to find people to fill the roles.

Oh my god, I thought, I can be an Ewok.

Yeah. I can dress up like a friggen Ewok and get PAID FOR IT. Are you kidding me? The only issue I’m going to have there is convincing myself to give the costume back at the end of every shift. If I had an Ewok costume, I’d be like every toddler ever to don a superman costume. I’d wear it like pajamas and kick and scream because my friends won’t let me wear it out in public.