Sagabite

Dale sent me this story on September 11 People:

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Where were you on September 11, 2001? A common enough question, but how many people answer: “Disney World“?

I was in kindergarten when Kennedy was assassinated, and had believed for years that that event would be the biggest in my lifetime.  How wrong I was.

For those of us employed in the citrus industry, September is the last chance to party before the long season begins.  I liked to spend at least part of this time away from everything-no telephone, no computer, and no CNN.  What better place is there to escape reality than Disney World?  My former girlfriend and I planned a week there from September 8-15: staying offsite to save a little money.

The morning of September 11, we had scheduled a visit to Animal Kingdom and we were at the gates before they opened.  It was a beautiful day-clear and bright-with just a hint of the heat that was to come.  The plan was to wander around on foot while it was still cool, and catch a few shows and water rides when the day started to heat up.  We decided to see the ‘Tarzan Rocks’ show at 11:30, and were seated and waiting by 11:25 or so.

After several minutes people watching and sipping on a cold drink, I noticed the show was running late.
“Not like Disney to be late,” I thought.   “They are usually so punctual.  Oh well.”

A few more minutes passed.  The kids around us were starting to get whiny and restless.  Finally, about 11:45, a female ‘cast member’ appeared at the podium, flanked by two men in suits.  Odd.

“Due to the tragedy that has befallen our country this morning, we are closing all the parks and ask that you remain calm, and allow us to direct you to the nearest exit,” she said.

Silence.

My first thought was that this must be part of the show.  I had never seen it before-or maybe this is some kind of joke.  Then again, nobody was laughing.

My second thought, as reality is starting to take hold was “Holy crap!  Disney doesn’t even close for Christmas-this must be a seriously messed up situation here!”

Nobody was moving.  It took some gentle prodding from the Disney staff to get us up and moving towards the exits.  At that point, anyone with a cell phone was on it.  We overheard bits and pieces of conversations-something about the Pentagon- as we walked slowly towards the exit.  Disney employees lined the way, handing out passes, but answering no questions.

We made it to the car and found ourselves in one humongous traffic jam.  It took 2 hours to drive the 15 miles to the motel.  On the radio, there were reports of the parks closing and of Orlando hospitals being on high alert.  What was going on?

Looking back now, I find it hard to believe that there were not reports of planes hitting buildings, but I don’t remember any.  Was it so hard to believe that it just wouldn’t sink in?  To this day, I don’t know.

All I can honestly say is that it didn’t become real to me until I saw it on CNN late in the day on that September 11.  And, for some reason I still feel guilty for being at Disney World on the day the real world changed forever.

Sunny sends the following story of some chipmunk games he played a while back:

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I grew up in Florida, so I am no stranger to living side by side with wildlife.  It’s not all that rare to find snakes in the car, gators in the swimming pool, or wild boar blocking the road.   It wasn’t until I moved to Canada however, that I had a member of the wild kingdom actually move in with me and set up house.

I first got the idea that I might not be alone when I started hearing scratching noises occasionally.  “Could be a tree branch,” I remember thinking.  Then I started catching movement out of the corner of my eye.   “I must be seeing things, “I thought.  The proof that I had been invaded came when I noticed droppings in my grits.

My GRITS?!?  I have to order them from a friend in Florida!
This means war.  I just have no idea how to proceed at this point.  I haven’t even figured out who the ‘enemy’ is yet.  Based on the evidence, I have it narrowed down to a small rodent.

At this point, I am thinking there might not ever have to be a confrontation at all; the soiling of my grits had made me seal off any other food sources.  At this point,   I am figuring it is only a matter of time until whatever it is packs up and relocates.

Not long after my declaration of war, I was working on the computer and caught that familiar movement in my peripheral vision.  It was a chipmunk: just standing there on his hindquarters a few feet away.  Of course, as soon as I got up, off he went to his rent-free apartment within the house.

I have seen the enemy, but now what?   Chipmunks are too pesky to live with, but too cute to kill. For all I know, they are a protected species in this country.  What do I know about chipmunks?

I decided to bide my time and wait for him to make a mistake.  It didn’t take long.

A few days later, I returned home from town and saw him in the rear of the house.  Busted!  I blocked off his exits and somehow herded him into the bathroom.  Oh, this would be easy now.  The bathroom is about 8’x 10’, with an 8’ ceiling.  This will be a piece of cake!  I can trap him in the garbage can and put his little chippie-ass out!

Or maybe not.

This little 4-inch critter covered every inch of my small bathroom.  He climbed up the towels, and perched for a minute on top of the rack.  From there, he scrambled across the medicine cabinet and up the sleeve of my robe.  He flew out of there, bounced off the ceiling and landed on top of the curtain rod.  All the while, I am swinging the garbage can around trying to catch him.  After about 20 minutes, it is becoming clear this is not going to work.

I glanced at the open window-then up at the chipmunk-then back to the window.  That’s it!  I’ll cut the screen and herd him out the window!  Using a nail file, I cut a flap in the screen and bent it back.  I waved the garbage can around behind him, and into the bathtub he went.  It didn’t take long to guide him out of the hole to freedom.

I’m not sure whether he understood that the hole would get him away from me, or whether he would have hit that area of the screen eventually anyway.  It doesn’t matter.  It’s been almost a year since then, and I have not seen hide nor hair of any critters in the house since.  Maybe he spread the word: no free lunch in THAT house!