We hurried up the hallway, only to be stopped by another cast member who asked to see my Disney Visa card. I showed it to her, and with a smile, she waved me past. My oldest daughter zipped ahead of me and started to round a corner when she stopped short and looked up.
There, towering over her, looking down through his fierce shiny mask, was Kylo Ren.
“Wow, that’s intense,” I said. And I meant it.
Kylo stood there staring for a moment, while my daughter remained frozen, her eyes wide.
Kylo said, “Come line up over here so I can see if you are First Order material.”
We obeyed and got in a line as though we were being inspected during boot camp. Kylo walked in front of us and stopped when he saw my daughter’s Han Solo shirt. He shook his head in disapproval. Then he saw my Darth Vader shirt and pointed at me.
“You!” Kylo said.
“Yes. . . . sir,” I stammered.
“The force is strong with you,” Kylo said. “You will do well in my academy.”
“I won’t let you down,” I said.
My family glared at me, stunned by my betrayal.
“Good,” Kylo said as he turned on his heel, his black cloak swirling around him.
A cast member shuffled in and took pictures of Kylo standing next to us, then scurried away. That was our cue to leave. I looked at Kylo and was about to say something, but he held his hand out, and I stopped.
“The answer to what you are about to say is . . . .” Kylo looked down at the floor and paused, as though he were reading my mind. “. . . . you’re welcome.”
How he knew I was about to say “thank you,” I’ll never know.
As we left the room, we all stared at each other with mouths agape.
“That was so . . . . awesome!” my daughter said.
Yes. Yes, it was.