Milton Hershey's Magic

This was a writing assignment from my writing group.  We get a prompt and have 30 minutes to free-associate. This week's prompt was a choice: The best milkshake or Secret handshake with ten bonus points for combining the two. It was magical fun, I hope you enjoy it!

July in Hershey, Pennsylvania is always a hot mess.  Even before the sun comes up, the mist pooling in the valley floor looks like steam in a cauldron.  Low hills rise from the murk, forming a bowl that collects heat all day until your blood reaches the boiling point and you simply melt into a puddle.  It’s hard to imagine why Milton Hershey chose this crack of wet hell to realize his vision of a perfect world.  Hard to imagine, that is, until one day, by pure luck, you discover his secret, kept for one-hundred ten years, handed from worthy to worthy, that makes living in the witch’s brew worth every minute.

                A few years ago, during a low point where I thought visiting the remnants of last century’s industrial giants would teach me leadership skills, I wound up in Hershey at the height of summer.  The oppressive heat kept me cooped in my hotel room gagging down room service until I was bug-eyed and nauseous. I staggered out of my room like a crazed addict, pawing at my face and gibbering.  I was surrounded by the finest sweets produced on earth; every breath in Chocolate-town pulled the essence of decadence and delight into my lungs; here I was killing myself with crusty tuna sandwiches and stale chips.  I needed quality! I needed ambrosia!  I needed a cold, creamy, eye-popping, soul-melting, brain-freezing milkshake made in candy heaven!   I staggered down Chocolate Avenue (yes, it’s real) past the Hershey chocolate factory, my vision swimming in the soupy humidity. Ahead, bracketed by a tourist trinket shop and a post office I saw an awning, fat stripes of red and white with a scalloped bottom edge arcing over the shimmering sidewalk, the universal sign of ice-cream shops and all things good.  I feel certain that St. Peter and the pearly gates are protected from the elements by an enormous candy-cane striped awning.

                Earlier that morning, I had punctured a small hole in my right hand while smacking about for the alarm clock.  Now the heat made it itch so I would periodically scratch it by folding my right middle finger to meet my palm.  Distracted by what I could see through the crystalline windows of the brightly-lit ice-cream shop, I was scratching my palm absent-mindedly as I shook the hand of the smiling server greeting customers at the door. He was impeccably dressed in a crisp red–and-white striped shirt, immaculate white apron and white pants creased like the prow of a battleship.  I wasn’t paying him much attention, gazing over his shoulder with longing through the open shop door and sagging into the blast of conditioned air enveloping us, so I missed his look of surprise and his narrowed gaze of assessment as our hands met.  “It’s a pleasure, sir” he said, leaning closer and whispering in my ear, “What brings you here today, sir?”  Startled by his proximity I straightened up and declared whimsically “I seek nourishment found only from great men!”  If possible, his smile widened even more and he grasped my hand in both of his, “And only great men can find such nourishment!  Welcome, my friend!”  He turned and strode briskly into the shop saying “Please sir, follow me”.  He moved quickly. It took me a moment to gather my wits and force my rubber limbs to match his pace.  I was chagrined to see us passing the magnificent pastel display of ice cream, fragrantly beseeching me from under the sparkling curved glass.  We skirted the wilting line of red-faced customers, stopping briefly for him to lift a section of the counter, holding it open for me.  He led me to a narrow door tucked behind some racks of sugar cones.  Producing a brilliant white key, he clicked open the lock and beckoned me through.

                Magic is magic because it’s unexpected and inexplicable.  Behind that narrow door was magic: majestic, soul-cleansing, thirst-quenching magical nourishment of candy heaven, accessible through a straw.   The process is complex: it involves albino cows, rainbows of cotton candy and vanilla beans fresh from Madigascar, but I can’t tell you more than that - unless you prove worthy!