They say the neon lights are bright...

...on Broadway. And on the Blue Moon Motor Court. And out my bedroom window.

Last month,  a traveling carnival set up on the grass playing field of the middle school next door. I was miffed, to say the least. The prospect of a weekend of noise and traffic was irritating, and put me in a really bad mood.

But then, the first night, I was seduced. Seduced by the glow of neon. Yes, I admit it. I love neon. Well, technically I suppose I should say I love neon and argon and krypton. Those are the three "noble" gasses that light up those fabulous signs that used to be the trademark of places like the Las Vegas Strip. Neon gas glows red, argon glows a blue/purple, and krypton glows a green/gray. There are other gasses that glow other colors, of course. But those three are my favorites.

There's something about an old-fashioned neon sign that wakens a nostalgic part of me, that 

makes me yearn for simpler times. I think about car trips as a kid, staying in motor lodges or motels, with tiny swimming pools and neon Vacancy signs. Sometimes the motel office would have neon outlining the roof, or a big "Open" sign in the window. I remember one trip when I was about 14, when we stayed in a hotel in downtown San Francisco, and at night, the motel's neon sign shone through our window, blinking on and off all night.

 

The carnival next door was full of neon. Neon on the Ferris wheel and the Tilt-A-Whirl. Neon on the candy apple booth and the bumper cars. There is just something about the glow of neon against a twilight summer sky, something that speaks of youth and excitement and the promise of adventure.

Neon is magical, turning even mundane, shop-worn buildings into fairy-tale castles. And who doesn't need a little magic in their lives?