Scents Memory

My list of dream travel destinations is long and distinguished, and my cache of frequent flyer miles won’t even begin to cover them. But somehow, I keep returning to the same place over and over. Even as a grown woman (and maybe because I am), I can’t help but turn completely giddy at the thought of a visit to Walt Disneyworld.

Hundreds of thousands of people have hundreds of thousands of memories from visiting this self-dubbed Happiest Place on Earth. I share quite a lot of them. But some of my strongest and fondest recollections and reasons for my devotion may be what most people would call odd. Oh well, I say, I’ve always been a little off center anyway.

Two of my favorite rides ever are no longer in existence or the same incarnation (probably because they weren’t many others’ favorites), but they are the first ones that come to my mind. Not for any thrill or song or magical character (although there are a-plenty), but because of the scents that brushed past my nose and seeped into my soul I remember The Journey into Imagination, bursting through a darkened doorway into to fairyland to inspire and tickle the senses. As I slowly passed a giant aspirator labeled Morning Mist, I inhaled honeysuckle kissed baby powder, and I wanted that car to break down right there for the next few hours. I would wear that perfume every day of my life if I could. I recall Horizons, gliding through a hopeful future of desert farming and breathing in such sweet citrus I could almost taste the juice. And I desperately craved a cocktail-umbrellaed libation.

Call me silly, but these are the moments seared into my brain that bring a goofy (pun intended) grin to my face and make such a worldwide beloved location special and personal to me.

I swear I can still smell the perfume each time I visit.

P.S. I defy anyone to resist the urge of a fresh baked chocolate chip cookie as they walk by the Main Street Bakery.