“We are having difficulty,” a voice over the intercom states.

These are not words you want to hear when you’re on a plane.

Here on the Shoreline, there are people called “snowbirds.” They live in this area during the best of weather times and then fly the coop the minute Christmas is over. The clock strikes 12:01 on Dec. 26 and they’re gone.

How I envy them. How I long to be one of them when January winds claw at my coat collar and February flakes slip into my boots. This year we haven’t had any snow, but I’m still excited to join the snowbirds as I take a short trip to Florida. I know going away for a long weekend doesn’t make me an official snowbird, but I’m going to pretend it does.

I board a plane and travel south. Disney World is my destination. My niece is working there, so it’s a chance to see her and to fulfill a life-long dream of going. For so many years, I’ve seen pictures of and read about Magic Kingdom but never went.

The flight down is smooth and uneventful. The trip is delightful. I hang with celebs like Goofy and Minnie, drink martinis with glowing lotus flowers in them, and go on rides that I’ve longed to go on since I was little.

And it’s warm.

There is one cool night, but by Connecticut-in-January standards, it’s not bad. The rest of the time there is balmy with soft breezes that caress my Gollum-white skin. The sun shines like a friendly smile in the sky. “Welcome to Florida, where your Disney dreams come true!” it seems to say.

The sun doesn’t come out in Connecticut in January. The clouds elbow the sun into the background of the sky until I almost forget what it looks like, much less what it feels like on my face.

It’s amazing how quickly I forget how cold it is for other people, though. Strolling by Cinderella’s castle with the sun’s rays on my back, it seems like the whole world is warm.

I also go to Hollywood Studios and visit the Star Wars portion of the park. This is where my inner geek has a field day. I’ve been a Star Wars fan since I was a kid. There’s a Chewbacca meet-and-greet that is set up like a human-celebrity meet-and-greet. Chewie is one of my favorite Star Wars characters ever, and when I walk into the room with His Furriness, I’m 10 years old again.

I explain to him, like he’s real or something, that I saw a picture of my niece getting a hug from him and that I’ve been jealous ever since. He tilts his giant head, holds his shaggy arms out, and makes a welcoming noise only a Wookie could make.

“Chewbaccaaaaaaaaaah!” I say and sink in for a big, hairy hug.

Like I said, I’m 10 years old again.

It’s tough to leave on the last day of the trip. I give my goodbyes to my niece and my friends and make my way through airport security. Will it be cold when I get home? Exactly how cold?

The plane begins to roll down the runway then stops. This is when the pilot says there is some “difficulty.” Apparently, the plane’s computer is going kablooey and needs to be reset.

Um. Okay.

After a while, we’re told the computer is fixed. We begin to roll down the runway but then stop again. The intercom voice returns and says, “Well, because we were delayed, there will be a lot of air traffic in New York by the time we get there.”

More words you don’t want to hear when you’re on a plane.

“We’ll have to hold off for a bit more to avoid the traffic.”

Traffic. That certainly sounds like home.

The rest of the flight is fine. We make it to Connecticut without any further difficulties.

So, even though my snowbirding experience ends on a slightly harrowing note, I’d do it again. Hopefully for longer next time. Hopefully including more warmth, more sunshine, and another Chewbacca hug.

Juliana Gribbins is a writer who believes that absurdity is the spice of life. Her book Date Expectations is winner of the 2017 Independent Press Awards, Humor Category and winner of the 2016 IPPY silver medal for humor. Write to her at jeepgribbs@hotmail.com. Read more of her columns at www.zip06.com/shorelineliving.