Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Orlando Vacation: Halloween Horror Night

For the last thirty-plus autumns, Gary will see a Haunted House billboard and say,"That sounds scary! We have to see it," and then every year we don't see it. We've never gone to any of these haunted houses because Gary always decides it won't be scary enough. "We have to see it" changes to "That looks dumb."

Still, I bought tickets for one of the Halloween Horror Nights. On those nights, Universal closes at five so that they can convert empty rides and spaces to haunted houses. These haunted houses are not dumb. They ruined me for all lesser, local haunted houses. These are top-drawer professional scary set design from movies like The Shining and Saw, populated with equally professionally made-up vampires and ghouls, and layered on top of it all is a hideous soundtrack of bone-crunching and blood-slurping.

For anyone else who has never been to a haunted house, you shuffle through a maze that winds through a set while terrifying creatures jump out at you. And even though I was expecting a scare around every corner, around every corner something jumped out and it still scared me! I screamed every single damn time. I can't imagine why it didn't bore me after a while, but they did such an excellent job of orchestrating the cadence of the scares that it was always a surprise.

The first house was scary, and each house after that was scarier. One house was designed so it pointed you toward a false exit then trapped you in a small corner with monsters. By the fourth house my psyche decided to fight back, and every time some thing clawed at my face and screamed at me, I screamed NO back. Yes, as if was the nineties and they were strangers in a dark parking garage.

They also set up "Scare zones" though the park where you could be frightened without waiting in line. This was personalized open-air scaring. Those ghouls had a harder job of it, because you weren't trapped and tense. On the other had, you never expected them. There was a nice man on stilts, for example, wearing a tuxedo and white face paint. I smiled up at him. He stared impassively. When I turned my back on him he doubled over so his face was hanging upside down in front of mine. I shrieked and saw him give a tiny little satisfed upside-down smile before he unfolded from his jack-knifed position.

You can get a peek at him, along with some other creepy characters in the dark video below.

Once the open-air ghouls realized we were easy marks (as opposed to the sullen teenagers), they played us like puppets. I gave the Grim Reaper the high sign and pointed at Gary, as if to say "Sic' em." The Reaper expertly side-swiped Gary and Gary screamed like a woman.

Since I'd been using the "NO" technique in the houses, I tried that on a street vampire who spotted me. "DID YOU SAY 'NO?'" he bellowed. "I HEARD YOU SAY 'YES, YES, SCARE ME!'"  Then he lunged at me. I screamed and cowered.

Of course, the worst ones were the chainsaw-wielding clowns. As individual clowns revving up chainsaws, they were bad, but when they surrounded people and threatened them with a circle of chainsaws, well, I was glad I had not been targeted there.

Finally, one added bonus to the Halloween Horror Nights is that you also get to see the night-time version of this scary event: 

Orlando Vacation: Animals

Fox - We saw our fox as we were leaving on vacation. Let me back up - we have an old, ratty fox. Squinty eyes, mangy fur. When we met him his tail was bone with a tuft of fur at the end, but it's grown in a little. His tail's like a Brazillian landing strip now.

What I'm saying is: he's a distinctive fox. We spotted him on the first day of vacation when we were driving out of the subdivision on the way to the airport. One o'clock in the afternoon, padding down the sidewalk, like he was going to his Job as a Fox early because these people were leaving and someone had to watch the house.

We felt it was a good omen.

Boo Boo The Poodle - Our hotel, the Portofino Bay Universal resort hotel, is a "pet-friendly hotel." We were on the bottom floor, where I think all the pets stay because the rooms have sliding glass doors that open on to the piazza and the little lake there. Actually, our room is at very far right of this photo:

(No, I didn't take that photo. I got it off Wikipedia.)

We had two very quiet pugs on one side and a lonely poodle on the other.

Our room adjoined Boo Boo's via a locked door. We heard the poodle bark often, we heard his parents argue, and we heard them say, "Bye, Boo Boo" when they left for 18 hour stretches. Boo Boo barked like a fading smoke alarm: just when you'd forgotten about it: beep! there it is again, just for a moment. 

I met his owner one day on the lake. "Has he been keeping you awake?" the owner asked. "Oh, he doesn't bark at night." I said POINTEDLY.

Ducks -  Of course, there were ducks, and of course I fed them room service bread, as you do. I fed them twice. The first time it was by the clock tower in the photo above. Then, two days later, I was sitting right outside our room (as I say, to the right on the photo above), when I saw a duck in the center of the lake swimming my way and quacking. By the time he got to me he had five of his friends in tow, demanding bread. I had to oblige. It felt very much as if he saw me across the lake and called out, "Hey, there's that plump lady who fed us Tuesday. Let's hit her up."

Raccoon - Well, the vacation began with the good omen of the fox trotting to our house, but the first thing that greeted us on our return was a dead racoon splayed across the backyard. Of course, I thought it was a mafia hit, but the corpse had no holes. I thought then it had been found in a trash can and flung in to our yard, but that thing weighed fifty pounds. Then, naturally, I thought it had died of the distemper that is affecting raccoons in south St.Louis city. But, none of our raccoons have shown any signs of distemper in the hours of videos we take of them.

I don't know. The raccoon party may be dying down at our house. It's been two years, surely Gary must be tired of this hobby by now.

Orlando Vacation: Harry Potter Employees Commit to the Bit

I fell hard for the Harry Potter section of Universal, for the incredible attention to detail, and because the park has a technology that will let you perform "spells." You stand by a brass plaque, use your wand to perform the gesture engraved on the plaque (such as a figure 8 or a letter W), say the engraved incantation, and magically something will animate: a fountain will shoot water, or a stuffed owl will flap its wings.

I assumed Gary would want magic wand technology as much as he wants new muggle technology (that is: immediately and for the highest price) and I was right. I could tell because he began telling the saleswizard how much I would want it.

So, $53 dollars later, I had a wand that I could hold while I stood in line and watched children use their wands to perform the same spells I would fail at minutes later. Eventually, though, when you get it, it's quite an irrational sense of power. There's a reason witches are known for cackling.

The next day, i found a spell spot that wasn't surrounded by children. There had been a few that were not operational, explained away by the staff as "this area is hexed" or "our house elf is on vacation." When I couldn't get it to work, I immediately went into Debug Mode.

I summoned a roving IT Wizard. They help with spells, saying where to point the wand or how large the gesture should be. (Evidently the corresponding incantation is just as effective "if you say it in your head.")

The IT Wizard asked me to try the spell again, assessed my form, and judged it to be good. He asked to look at my wand.

He played with the tip of the wand, then raised it to his ear and listened to it. Intently. For at least thirty seconds. He then announced, "you wand is in need of repair."

"Bullshit," I wanted to say, but he was giving me directions to the wand sales and repair shop.

So I went and stood in line while another saleswizard explained to a ten year old how the wood in his selected wand was more decorative so it would enhance the bond his wand felt for him.

At that point I was feeling my age, finally, but instead of having some adult dignity I just sighed, closed my eyes, and said my wand was evidently broken.

"Oh, I'll give this to our wand technician in the back and he can fix it right away."

When he came back -- after unboxing a brand new matching wand -- I'm not STUPID -- I thought, I can play too. So I soberly asked, "So, why did my wand fail? Is it because of my dark heart?"

He almost smiled. "Oh, no, ma'am. You should be all set now."

 

Vacation and Stress

Everyone else takes stress-free vacations. Right now my stomach is twisted, hands are shaking, and I'm stress-coughing, if that's a thing, because I'm leaving on vacation.

If ever I needed a vacation, it would be now.

I'm going to Universal in Orlando, because Orlando, Florida in hurricane season is a tremendous value. All I have to do is get in the car, then get in a taxi, then get on a plane, then another plane, then a taxi, then chill out. Easy, right? You would think, but I am in a state.

These are the things that led up to this vacation:

Hurricane Irma decided to head for one of the airports we'll go through, then take a turn toward Orlando. This began a week of Gary announcing there would be:

    1) no gas there, so no taxis 
    2) no electricity
    3) looters in The Wizarding World of Harry Potter (I am not making this up)
    4) displaced evacuees ("We can't take a room that could be used by an evacuee! What are you thinking?")

Then, of course, he got sick, then I got sick. Naturally, he had A HORRIBLE COLD while I had a mere cold. I would ask him if he'd taken any medicine and he would scoff, "That's only symptomatic relief."

I CAN'T CURE YOUR COLD. RELIEVE THE SYMPTOMS ALREADY. 

I ended up writing out a schedule and handing him the pills with something to drink. Give me a paper cup and I would be the hospital nurse. He was amazed at how much better he felt. I still feel sick.

Truly, I have headed overseas for once-in-a-lifetime trips in a calmer state than I am right now, heading three states away to a family vacation.

Another Night at Trivia

The best I've ever done at Trivia was winning a disputed first place at a very small school fundraiser trivia event.

So, when Marcia (Friend #3) announced her intention to Win It All at the Teddy J United Way Trivia, I was skeptical. TeddyJ Trivia is the biggest in Saint Louis.

 

She said she was assembling a dream team and I was key. We agreed Gary was not as key, but he could come if we couldn't rustle up another player. As it turned out, he came and filled out the team, which also included Friend #2 and Spouse, Laura and Spouse, plus Anne, who deserves a number (I dub Anne Friend #9).

The powerhouses were Marcia and Evan, Laura's spouse. I was useless and only contributed one answer during the Governmental Departments round. I also think I spawned the good-natured chorus of boos for the Department of Labor, given the worry they've caused us these last few months.

My other contribution was to back Anne up during a debate over one question: “What Southern Hemisphere constellation is half-man, half-horse?”

Marcia in her lust for gold scribbled down Sagittarius without consulting anyone, but Anne stopped her. “Southern hemisphere. Sagittarius is northern hemisphere. We never see the southern hemisphere constellations.”

“This is true.” I said. “Big Dot in New Zealand sees a rabbit in the moon and all sorts of peculiar things.”

Marcia scratched out Sagittarius and said, “So what's it called?”

Anne said, “I don't know. The Centaur? Centauri? Centaurus? Centaurum?”

Marcia wrote “Centaur.” Then she scribbled it out and wrote in Sagittarius again.

“No” I insisted, “It can't be Sagittarius, that's the wrong hemisphere.” She scribbled out Sagittarius and wrote "The Centaur."

Then I had an inspiration. “It's not The Centaur! It's Centauri. Like the nearest star, Alpha Centrauri.”

“That's not a constellation, that's a star,” She stubbornly scratched out "The Centaur" and replaced it with “Sagittarius.”

I lamely argued that Alpha Centarui could be a star in the Centauri constellation, but she was not moved. We went with Sagittarius.

I am sure that at this moment, you are all saying, "Alpha Centarui IS a star in the Centaurus constellation, everyone knows THAT.”  And you are right, so it follows we were wrong. It's moot anyway, since we never wrote down the actual name of the constellation, which is “Centaurus.”

It only came up again when we eventually actually placed third, right behind a two-way tie for first. Anne laughed, “We could have said we were first if you'd listened to me about the constellation.”

I am very smug about coming in third, actually. It's quite an accomplishment, and came with a ten dollar gift card. I could use it to buy this ...

 

... and put it on Marcia's desk.

Another Animal Adventure

Gary and I again made our yearly visit to Big Joel's Animal Safari Park. Big Joel has expanded a lot of his exhibits, and there were some piglets born four days ago that were draining the mother DRY, but the most remarkable things were not what we saw but what we heard.

For example, we saw tortoises being made. Even more remarkable was the sound of tortoises being made. Listen closely to our video and you can hear it.

(Also remarkable was the tone I use with my husband. A drawl of contempt.)

Just as I didn't expect to hear tortoises quacking their way through sex, I didn't expect to hear a zeedonk scream "J'ACUSSE!" at Gary.

The zeedonks ("Zeedonks may bite!") were directly across from where the tortoises were making love and I'm afraid Gary didn't give them any food. We followed a footpath that circled from the zeedonks and tortoises to the porcupines and water buffalo and then back again. When we returned, the female tortoise had crawled under a bush and at least three families were feeding the zeedonk, who either:

1. Brayed "YOU IGNORED ME!" directly at Gary, or ...
2. Tried to quack like a duck tortoise having sex directly at Gary.

I can tell you, whatever it was it was pointed directly at Gary. The thing spotted Gary, made eye contact, started simultaneously hyperventilating and braying, and followed Gary along the fence as Gary cried, "Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Here, here's some food! Sorry!"

It would be scary if zeedonks remember people from year to year. It would be really scary if there's some baby tortoise next year who follows Gary around like he's its godfather.