It was an ingenious plan. My family of four, vacationing in San Diego, would use Christmas Day as a break from our sight-seeing and relative-visiting to make the two hour jaunt up the California coast to lovely Anaheim for a day at Disneyland: the world capitol of all that is good, clean and fun. Jewish as we are, there would be no spiritual toll for using the holiday's all-consuming character to our benefit; there would be no religious conflict in taking advantage of the empty roads and short lines for the Disney attractions. Equally important, the trip would provide us Something To Do on a day when most everything eager tourists might visit is closed. After all, like the hospital emergency room and the Las Vegas casino, Disneyland is open 365 days a year.

So early Christmas morning, as good Christian girls and boys across the land were tiptoeing down staircases, discovering presents nestled under decorated trees, we were tearing up highway five. The roads were as empty as expected, but when we arrived at the park, it was surprisingly busy. Walking down Main Street U.S.A., one felt transported to a small town of America's past, only this one was much, much more crowded. "Disneyland, Population 300,000,000" a suspicious sign read. Was this a ballpark guess of how many people squeeze inside the park each day? Or a cryptic suggestion of how Michael Eisner intended to consume the entire country into his corporate structure? It was far from clear.

My family fought its way through the crowds from the new Indiana Jones attraction to Space Mountain to my personal favorite, Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. In front of the signature Disney castle, there was a line of at least 50 people--some of them unaccompanied adults--waiting to meet Snow White, procure autographs and have her pose for photos. She left abruptly, touching off a wave of parent protests and shrieking tantrums by young girls. Luckily, the prospect of a very un-Disney riot was averted when a fresh Cinderella, greeted with wild applause, was whisked in to satiate the growing crowd's appetite. If it's this swamped on one of the most important days of the Christian calendar and consequently a day when most Americans are at home celebrating with their families, I thought, it's a good thing we showed up today.

But when I shared this thought with Heather, a smiley waitress at the Tomorrow Land Terrace restaurant, she was quick to correct my impression.

Christmas Eve Day and Christmas Day are two of the park's busiest days, she explained.

Before I had a chance to ask her about the counter-intuitive factoid, she was off, serving the throngs of hungry visitors. Eventually I found myself talking to Steven, a young employee at one of the Main Street stores. He agreed with Heather's assessment, but was at a loss when I suggested the park's Christmas popularity a bit odd. He, for one, had no problem working on Christmas. And by the way, just in case I was interested, wages started at $7.04 an hour. "It's really a lot of fun," Steven explained, sounding like one of those infomercial hosts, "I love it here."

At three o'clock, as if driven by forces beyond their control, all of Disneyland's inhabitants converged around Main Street, packing themselves five and six deep on the side-walk. Yes, it was time for the "Christmas Fantasy Parade."

Not surprisingly, as the floats rolled by, complete with Aladdin, the Little Mermaid and many waving, lip synching comrades, the Big Man himself went unmentioned. There were no carols with the word "Jesus" or "Christ," no talk of the "Lord" the "Almighty" or "G--d." And aside from the parade's title, Christmas itself went largely undiscussed during the procession. Making a rare reference to the holiday, Roger Rabbit confided in the crowd, "Let's face it, Christmas is about one thing: Toys!" So it is, Roger. So it is.

Daniel S. Aibel's column will resume next semester.