“Okay, the paper is finally here!” I muttered under my breath.

I went over to the door and got the paper. What do they have for me to read today? Cooped up in my reclining chair, I casted my attention on the front page and started to savor the great and informative articles. I analyzed all of the documents until I found one that was interesting enough to catch my eye. It read “Disney Land Now Opened.” I was incredibly excited about the pristine park finally coming to life. My imminent happiness was boldly displayed in my smile. I decided right then and there that I was going to go to Disney Land. I thought that since this man made his dream a reality then maybe now I would be able to go out without public discrimination. The former motif that all African-Americans were bad was supposedly banished, according to president Dwight D. Eisenhower and the Supreme Court (yet the reality of it was something different).
I did not dawdle after reading the article, over the next two days I packed up all of my belongings except for those little trinkets around my house. After I finished packing, I made the haltingly decision of going to Disney Land the next day. All night I was unable to get a pittance of sleep. I was just so excited to get to go to Disney Land. This was a perennial occurrence; whenever I got over exuberant I could not fall asleep. Not being able to fall asleep was really caustic to the next days potential, so it bothered me dearly.
When I got on the bus there was an eerie feeling, nobody even acknowledged me. I still went to the back of the bus, and nobody would let me sit anywhere else. I was puzzled; it was like they still thought they were transcendence. When I finally arrived there I had butterflies in my stomach . I was so delighted to be there, so it made me buzz with happiness. I got off the bus and sang, “what’s buzzin cuzzin ?” to all of the people around me. The only reply was from another African-American.
“How you doin dude?” he asked.
“Doin great, what’s your handle?” I replied.
“My name is Charles, what’s yours?
“Robert, but have you noticed that all of these people are so mean?”
“Yeah I have, it’s cuz’ of our skin color, they don’t like the fact that we are different. I don’t understand it. It ain’t make no difference what your skin color is. I’ll see ya later Robert!” Charles quickly howled before sprinting off.
I tried to talk to all of the people at the park, but nobody ever responded. I tried to talk to decrepit men and women and even mothers with boisterously bawling babies. Most people didn’t even answer, but the ones who did responded in a reluctant fashion. These people are so mean I was thinking. I try to help them. I approach them with the same thing each time.

What’s up? My name is Robert.
I expect them to say stuff like, “What’s buzzin’ cuzzin?”
But instead I get things like, “Get away from me! Or nobody likes you!”

If I help them out then maybe they will like me I thought. It is worth a shot. When I saw this one-person smoking I had to inform that it causes cancer. I wanted him to like me, but I wanted to keep him safe even more. Even if it was a tenuous chance that he would like me, I had to make sure he would be okay.

“Hey dude!” I overanxiously shouted.

“Shove off!” he retorted.

“I just want to tell you that smoking causes cancer, dude.”

“Who cares?” he shrugs. “Just leave!”

Well, that was a fail I thought. I could tell that the guy definitely did not want his help. I thought that he should try to help other people.
“Wait . . . did I hear that kid just say he wants to go to space? I whispered to myself, “I could tell him about the NASA stuff I just learned, the space program Uncle Sam just opened up . . . “

“Hey! Kid! Did you . . . “

SMACK!!!! “Get away from my boy!” his mother greeted me with a stinging slap.

“Sorry, ma’am. I just wanted to tell him about NASA, an organization aimed to make space more real for all of us.”

“Whoah! That is sooooo cool! Tell me more!” the little boy chirped as he snuck into the conversation. It didn’t last long as the mom snatched her boy and stormed away.

I turned around and began to retreat as well, stealing one last glance at the little boy and his mom. He was waving with all his might, causing a smile to light up my face as I trudged away, defeated. As I walked, I saw more people, feeling hope that I would be able to help them. Yet no positive results came from any of my other attempts. They all kept on treating me like I had dementia. Feeling upset and having my self-esteem trashed, I returned to my lodging and sheltered up for the night. It was then that I came across some very peculiar news.
The news was all a-buzz with a story about some woman who wouldn’t give up her seat on a bus. I didn’t understand what the big deal was? I knew that everybody wanted to plop down in a seat on the bus after a long day of work, if they could find one.

“That’s right, folks. . . Ms. Rosa Parks, a negro woman, has refused to give up her seat on the bus to a white man in Montgomery, Alabama. I don’t think we have ever seen such defiance before . . .”

I started to smile learning of her audacity and bold action. Everyone has the right to stand up for themselves; it shouldn’t matter what color they are. It was the broadcaster’s change of tone that quickly erased the smile from my face.

“Don’t worry folks. This woman has been arrested for her disrespectful actions. We cannot let these people get away with such behavior. We have the Jim Crowe Laws for the safety of our communities!”

I thought to myself, what? How can this despicable atrocity be real? How could she be arrested for sitting on a public bus after paying her fare? All she did was stand up for herself by sitting down! It is not fair that this woman, this Rosa Parks, gets arrested because she wanted to stay in the seat she got to first! I hope that this gets people to open their eyes to the ugliness of segregation! Tomorrow, the people of Disneyland will be buzzing about this! Let’s see if we can make a change in our country – for good!

When I arrived in Disney Land everybody was glaring at me and making mean gesticulating. I was confused why this was happening, but then it hit me—the people did not like the thing that Rosa Parks did. This one white man, who thought he was super macho walked up to me and started yelling.

“You have a lot of guts showin up here after what that stupid negro women did. You should leave now!” the man demanded. The next thing I say was my bags flying out of the park for a home run. “Go!!” he bellowed. When I tried to stand up to him I got whacked over the head with a bag. My head was throbbing. People were yelling stuff at me, but their words were indecipherable, and I was in a great deal of pain. It was then that I remembered the countless times growing up, when I would get beat up for being black. Every hit from the people turned into the smacks from the bullies when I was younger. I remembered this one particular bully named Michael who would get everybody else to hurt me. It was his virtuoso, hurting people that is. When I snapped back to reality I was tossed out of the park like a baseball by that one “macho man.” I then walked over to Charles who I saw sitting on a ledge, organizing the many bags that were thrown out of the park.

“It’s fine Robert,” Charles told him, “We don’t need no Disney Land. Come with me, I got your stuff. I was so motivated by Ms. Rosa Parks that I am going to help that famous equality speaking Martin Luther King Jr. out. It’s a long trip . . . you up for it?”

“Good to see you again Charles, those guys were really berating me,” I confessed, ”but yeah, I am ready to go help Martin Luther King Jr.”

We then decided to go on our way. They made a quick pit stop at the hostel I was staying at, where people were still bullying Charles and I. It was really dumb. Nobody commiserated us. They felt that tormenting us was absolutely necessary, like paying restitution. They were brandishing knives and forks so we got out as fast as we could. Finally, it was time to stop traipsing and go to Martin Luther King Jr.’s church.

On the ride there we faced many flabbergasting situations. When we tried to stop for food, many people harassed us, and then the others extoled the ones who did. When ever we got out of the car it was a grueling task to endure the harsh things that these people would do to us. One time stood out in particular to me. We pulled into a gas station, it was surrounded by trees, had a road with tumbleweeds on it and there were no other buildings for miles , hoping that nobody would see us. When we got out of the car people flooded out of the streets, and started bullying us for what Rosa Parks did. It seemed like the whole world was agitated with what she did. I did not think that she did anything wrong though, and neither did Charles.

When we finally arrived in Atlanta where the Ebenezer Baptist Church was located we were greeted with outstretched arms for the first time since leaving Disney Land. When Martin Luther King Jr. greeted us he welcomed us to the church. When we told him that we wanted to help stop segregation he wanted to know why.

“You see, when we were in Disney Land people were so cruel and we got so tired of the whole thing that we drove all the way from California to meet with you,” we confessed to him.

After that, he made us swear not to speak of what goes on in the meetings. We told him that we would keep it secret, so he allowed us into the crypt. In his speech to all of us he conveyed his emotions perfectly and it was so eloquent. This caused us all to get invigorated with excitement. We all knew that segregation would be abolished very soon. We all had a lot of vehemence on the subject, and it was immensely important to us.

“This meeting is adjourned,” he announced at the closure of the meeting.

After everything was done Charles and I found a nice, quiet place to stay.

“This is going to be great!” Charles promised, “Don’t you worry, segregation we be no more in just a short time.