Episode 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42 - "The Others!"
In reading over this TR, I see that one critically important detail is missing: a good fart metaphor. Time to remedy that.
Trip number one having surpassed my exceedingly high expectations, I was even more stoked about trip number two. Turns out it was a lot like a church fart. (Yes I realize that is technically a simile, but let’s not digress.) You know the kind of toot of which I speak. You have a round in the chamber, but due to the social setting you are in (church, work, etc.), you cannot give the order to fire.
So you sit and hold it. This is fairly simple at first, but as time goes on pressure begins to build. Before you know it, you’ve gone to yellow alert. Suddenly your bowels are on the view screen warning “She can’na take much more of this captain.”
Resolute to stay the course, you renew your efforts. “Erect a level 10 containment field around cargo bay 2, and notify all personnel to prepare for an emergency jump to warp.” “Captain, if we try to take a step we’ll lose containment for sure! We’ve got to stay here sir” Trapped and without options, the only thing you can do now is dig in and fight.
Soon the pressure becomes audible in the form of gurgles and growls. You feign being hungry so as not to start a panic, but the situation is nearing a crisis. You search your memory to see if perhaps you’ve forgotten about swallowing an inflatable raft. You’re now at a full-on red alert. Scotty the bowel muscle is back on the viewscreen. “Captain! We have an imminent containment breech!” Terror begins to grip you from the bottom up. “Plug it NOW Scotty! Take life support offline if you have to, but HOLD CONTAINMENT!”
Sweat is breaking out on your brow. Every muscle in your body is fully locked. You dare not move. You know that the slightest motion, even a thought, could trigger a chain reaction from which there would be no recovery.
Finally as your belly button is about to begin shrieking like your great-grandmother’s antique pressure cooker, you see your chance. The moment arrives when rapid departure is socially acceptable and you feel a slight dip in abdominal pressure.
You fly to the safety of the car and streak out of the parking lot in order to protect the lives of others. You roll down the windows so they aren’t blown out by the concussion wave. If you had a siren you’d sound it to alert other drivers to remain in their vehicles, and warn those in their homes to seal the windows. The thought of recording the moment for future generations passes through your mind. You grip the steering wheel, set your jaw, move away from the airbags, grit your teeth, pray your injuries will be minor and give the order.
“Fire!”
Then it happens. The cannon shot you were expecting is replaced with a small and unassuming fizzle. The anti-climatic disappointment is overwhelming. You wonder what it was that had you so worked up. So it went with trip number two.
The following summer, I returned to Florida to redeem by free ticket; but this time I came alone. I had arranged to spend a few weeks watching my cousin during the daytime while my aunt was taking some classes. (She was getting ready for her first year of law school at Memphis State, which meant this was their last summer in Florida.)
The last Saturday of my trip just happened to coincide with a trip the youth group from her church was taking to the Magic Kingdom, and I was scheduled to join them. With my ride secured (albeit in an overcrowded van with a group of strangers) I packed my bags and my park ticket and went East young man.
This visit to the Magic Kingdom was the most bizarre of any that I’ve had. I was with approx 12-15 other teens and the youth pastor. (Who was actually not a “pastor” but was a college student doing a summer internship; and who shocked me by spending the bulk of the day sitting at a table towards the back of Pinocchio’s working on his mid-summer report that apparently HAD to be turned into, and signed by, the actual senior pastor the following day in order for him to get credit for the internship.)
Prior to our departure we were made aware of the three rules. 1. We would be broken into four assigned “park groups”. 2. Everyone was required to stay with their assigned “park group” and check in with college dude at Noon, 6:00 PM, and park closing. 3. Failure to abide by rules one and two would result in the most unimaginable consequence - spending the rest of the day sitting at a table with the procrastinating college dude.
Having since done both the college dude and youth pastor gigs, I sincerely doubt our chaperone would have held to this particular intimation, however at the time he seemed most sincere in it. But it was no problem, I could hang with strangers...after all this was Walt Disney World. It was then that I discovered a shocking and horrifying reality.
The Others.
You know them. Not only do they not share our enthusiasm for WDW, but in fact bare this hallowed ground a downright animosity. You could have bowled me over with a breadstick. How is this possible? How can you live in the same state as our beloved destination and not shout it’s praises from the top of someplace very-very high?
As shocking as this news was, I soon discovered that the two fellow travelers comprising the remaining portion of my “park group” had no intentions of taking in any actual attractions. Instead they brilliantly planned on spending the entire day in the arcades and “cruising for girls”. Oh joy of joys! I am going to spend a day in the greatest place on earth and my only two options are cruising around arcades or sitting at a table with college dude? I DON’T THINK SO BABY! I need options and I need ‘em NOW.
Pondering the possibilities on the drive down, I finally reached a solution which held the promise of deliverance. First I needed to make myself an undesirable traveling companion. Thanks to some spicy tacos the night before and my superior mastery of organic chemistry, this was fairly easily accomplished. After an hour of breathing in the fog of abomination and listing to me ramble about Star Trek, my newfound companions would be more than ready to rid themselves of my company post-haste.
Now that the motivation was properly secured, it was time to engage the mechanics of my master plan. On the boat ride across the lagoon, I made the suggestion to my touring team that perhaps in anticipation of becoming “Accidentally Separated”, we should establish a secondary rendezvous point, purely as a precautionary measure. By meeting at this location 10 minutes prior to our check in time with college dude, we could maintain the integrity of our “park group” while checking in, and avoid the dire consequences resulting from “park group” separation. The bulbs in their brains slowly went from off to dim, and they declared it to be a brilliant suggestion.
After entering the front gates and hanging back while college dude made a beeline to Pinocchio’s, my new found friends and I became “Accidentally Separated”. Having been a cub scout, I knew that my first order of business was to establish a search grid. To that end, I queued up to Space Mountain to rule it out as a possible location. Of course as the ride cycles fairly quickly, this search was required to be repeated regularly throughout the day.
And that’s how at the ripe old age of 14, I spent a solo day in the Magic Kingdom. Please don’t tell my mother. Even though I’m 35 and survived unscathed, she’d have a panic attack at the potential danger faced by her baby.
I don’t remember the exact touring order, however I do remember that I spent the bulk of the day in Tomorrowland, save for a couple of turns on Big Thunder, Haunted Mansion, and Pirates. I also remember that this was the one and only trip I actually watched a stage show in the Galaxy Palace Theater. The only reason I remember that particular show is that it was the first time I had ever seen a real live confetti cannon. Even that would not have made an impression were it not for the woman seated directly in front of said cannon who jumped straight up and screamed like a heckled monkey when it was fired.
Through it all, I remained faithful in my duties to my “park group”, and followed through on our alternative check in arrangements.
At the six o’clock check in, our leader (who had apparently finished his report) determined the need for a group ride, and settled on the Haunted Mansion as the venue for this sacred outing. 999 Happy Haunts later, we split back into our “park groups”, with college dude electing to finish our stay touring the park with one of the other “park groups”. Through my diligence in observing his exit vector, solely in the event that I needed to locate him in an emergency situation, mind you, I somehow became “Accidentally Separated” from my “park group” for the third time that day.
Bummer.
Oh Well, nothing to do but head on over to Tomorrowland, line up for Space Mountain and establish a new search grid.
One thing I do remember clearly is taking several turns on the WEDway near closing time to rest my feet and reflect on the day. It was the only time I can remember a cast member letting me stay on a ride without having to get off and get back in line. I also took advantage of the shortened lines during the fireworks for a final visit to my favorite Mountain.
All in all the trip was enjoyable, but not overly memorable. Other than the crazy woman and solo touring, trip number two didn’t make much of an impression on me. I still loved Walt Disney World and I still wanted to come back, but this go-round just wasn’t quite the same.
I left the park that evening feeling quite pleased with myself.
I was completely unsure as to when I would be able to return, but another stroke of luck would bring me back much sooner than I might have thought.
Coming up on Episode Six(ish) - Sing a Song of WEDway.
Click Here for Next Episode
Good thing about caffeine - it wakes you up. Bad thing about caffeine - it keeps you up, so no man nap for me. Well, I guess I'd better do something productive. Adios amiga!
with words.
and 
and prayers for your family and the others affected by the layoff.
apparently - you have lots of company...unfortunately.
