Florida Escaped

Florida Escaped.

We flew from Tallahassee as fast as we could. This was it – the day we were to leave this state. We were to be free – free at last. But then, of course, something caught my eye.

I saw a sign for Pensacola. I don't know anything about Pensacola - I don't even know why I know the name of the town, but I do. Seeing it just off the interstate left me with no choice but to veer of course, and prolong our stay in this place of terror and horror.

Alright, so Florida isn't really all that bad – how could a place with a free Naval museum be anything but, at least passable?

In Pensacola if you'd like to see it, you can head on down to the military base and check out their air plane museum. It's free. And to be honest, pretty wonderful. Before getting there you must pass through a check point, and obtain a permit. It's a simple painless process, but I wouldn't recommend it for anyone who has anything on them that they shouldn't. Access here is for a military base. Seeing that once in you were just told what roads to take and then left to your own devices was a little strange. But then again, surrounded by the military, in a gated community what are you really going to try to do?

The museum has an F-14 out front, and so many more fighters inside. There's a three hour tour, if you're really interested – but then you're listening to someone talk for three hours. We tried, we really did, but it just went on and on. Every time the guide said he wasn't going to talk about something, he then spent a dozen minutes describing what it was, and why it wasn't something he'd want to get into.

I have nothing but respect for the retired flier, but lordy could he go on.

Aside from just looking – and touching – the planes, there were also cockpit trainers you could jump into. For me, it's probably the closest I'll ever get to being in a fighter jet. Although, I never expected to spend a year travelling the world either, so stranger things could happen.

The pictures are goo enough to fulfill that desire within me. I couldn't help but wish my cousin was here – at a young age he loved planes, and it was his enthusiasm that got me into them. Without him, I'd have never seen Top Gun, and then what type of man would I have been?

Most importantly – there was a gift shop which sold astronaut ice cream. Yes, the hard chalking bricky substance that felt like nails on chalk boards when bit through, but when dissolving on your tongue becomes such a unique and near-forgotten experience.

The strangest thing about the entire museum was seeing images of US Naval blimps. Zeppelins are things I had only even pictured the Nazis using. And even then, only the Nazis thrown overboard by Indiana Jones. Apparently there was one incident where a Navy blimp crash landed without any officers on board. Top Secret documents remained behind, by those who should have been piloting were never heard from again.

And then, only then, could we finally put Florida behind us. Into Alabama we crossed. In all my time in America over the years, this was my first time getting into foreign locations. This part of the country remained as mysterious and mystical – the further west we pushed, the stronger these feelings would become. Still, things started slow. We were to spend the night in Mobile, but getting there and finding it with little to offer we quickly pressed on. Nothing to offer except for quaint houses, beautiful streets canopied with foliage, and a feeling of being back in yester-year, that is.

We made haste to Bayou Le Batre, home of Bubba. Mobile was where Forrest Gump was born and raised, and when the text described his bus journeys from one city to the other, I pictured them as long drawn out affairs – not the half hour drive it really would have been.

Bubba's town seemed desolate as well, though some side roads contained homes low to the ground, and not at all overblown – the type you'd expect to find, and are indeed delighted to find when perception becomes reality.

There was one saving grace – we were hungry. The welcome sign claimed this place as having the best sea food in the state, and if the shrimpin' business was anything like in he book and movie that brought us here, that would be the case. I plugged in sea food and let the GPS find us a place to eat. Its first location was long since gone, but the second – Lighthouse Restaurant – seemed to still exist. In the middle of nowhere it stood, parking lot nearly full. A good sign. Inside it felt like the place your family returns to night after night. Everyone would know everyone, and the staff would be a family all their own. This was the south I had been seeking.

And if there was a decorated Christmas tree in the middle of summer? Well then so be it.

We ordered the sea food platter, nacho fries, and award winning gumbo. And the food did not disappoint. The gumbo was good, and any fries with Jalapeños on them are perfect in my eyes. The sea food? Well it's food that really makes you feel like you've experienced a place. Now I've tried to eat when I've travelled, but it was this meal – after so much fast food – that really reminded me what dinner could be. The bill would remind me why I experienced this so irregularly, but that would be later. The hardest part was determining what was what. Fish, shrimp, crab, and claws all look a little alike when pulled from the deep fryer. Still, throw on some Heinze 57, and you're good to go.

After dinner it was just a matter of finding a place to sleep for the night. Alabama was out, as we had no Room Saver guide, and I could not bear to pay full price. Then Mississippi was cut due to its information centre being closed, and not supplying the guides outside. They taunted me through the window. Still, it was late, and we needed sleep. Motels would be abandoned for camp sites. It is with great dismay that I discovered you can not get a camp site after seven at night in these states, as the offices were closed. With the clock nearly ten our time was long past.

RV sites, found from signs on the highway proved the same – closed, or private (why advertise then?!) - we pushed on to Louisiana. I had become quite familiar with this state from the quarter that keeps popping up in our change every other day. This has also led to some unfair annoyance with the state. In our quest to collect all fifth (or more is the territories have them) any 'special coin' we already have is just a blow against us. And when it keeps showing up? How many of these ones did they mint?

Things didn't look good as we neared the information centre, but luck would be ours. One final copy remained, pointing out a cheap place on the outskirts of New Orleans. Our path was set, an we were off. The Big Easy: Here we come.

Escaping Florida

This is it – the day to push on out of Florida. Destination: Tallahassee. Tomorrow we'll finally leave this place that we've called home for the past couple of weeks.

Final prep to close up, lock doors, windows, and plug the final drains with tin foil. I can only assume, after further thought, that this is to keep the creepy crawlies out. And then there was the putting cling wrap over the toilet bowl, and tank. This is done, A.) Because I am told to do it, but also B.) Because (and this is purely hypothetical) it prevents the alligators from accessing our home and stealing the bag of frozen vegetables which have been living in the freezer for months now. I know how tricky these gators are, and also how much they love frozen foods. With one millimeter of shrink wrap they will be forever deterred. It is their weakness.

Then came the spraying of liquid death. Ant killer. This explains the miniature holocaust that greeted us when we first rolled up, late at night. Now we were to spray this poison – everywhere. Along walls, window sills, in the bathroom, outside the house. As fun as it was to spray this poison with, more or less, a super soaker the taste of doom in my throat afterwards? I could have done without that.

A good amount of water later, and I was good to go.

But where were we headed? Yeah we could just push straight on to Tallahassee, or even out of state to Mobile Alabama (home of Forrest Gump – having finished reading the novel, it is no less ridiculous than last reported to be) but where was the fun in that?

Katherine had said she wanted to see an Alligator, and we were still to spot one. Not that we really knew any good places to spot them around here. On our way north, we would be passing through the greater Clearwater area, where years of my life were spent. I have many memories of gators back then. But where – where were they? Sure, I could have emailed my parents and asked them, but I continued to forget. With no time left, I tried to remember. The name Pinellas Park kept shooting into my head. Thrown into the GPS it turned out Pinellas Park wasn't a park, but instead the name of a town.

Once more, the fantastic GPS was able to show me a number of parks near Pinellas. Of all the names, Sawgrass Park seemed to stand out. Though I had not been there for well over a decade, I was sure that I had been there before. Saying good bye to Port Charlotte, we were on our way.

In the car, I read some of the “Politically Incorrect Guide to American History” which works to dispel myths that we all believe, such as the settlers stole land from the Natives. As it turns out, it was all bought, and the natives welcomed the settlers in a number of cases, as they stood between the expansion of other warring tribes. Glad that I picked this book up for a buck fifty at the library I continued to read on. I do so love dispelling myths. Even since I was at Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump in Alberta, learning that Natives did not use all parts of the animal (in many cases just cutting out buffalo tongues, and letting the rest rot away in the sun) I have loved reading some historical truths.

One chapter down, we switched to listening to video game podcasts. Having been – more or less stationary – for weeks, we had hours of them building up.

When we reached Sawgrass, I realized that while this was one of the two parks I had visisted as a kid, it was not the one I was thinking of. This one had a board walk that extended through the park, over marshlands. Well – if it were the rainy season the walk would be over marsh. Right now, it just kept us a foot or two above the fern covered ground. Trees closed in from all around, covered completely in Spanish Moss.

Without marsh, there was unlikely to be any gators. Still, we were not without hope. As we set out on our trek a man bicycled by us, “is that a camera you got there,” he asked.

Confused, I paused a moment before replying, “yes?”

“You want a picture of a gator?”

“That's the idea.”

He then pointed us a quarter mile down a path that ran along the small river which fed a retaining pond. Apparently there was one just down that way. Thanking him we made our way off. There, sitting in the water, like a log was an alligator. Watching it for a few moments, we took our pictures and high fived a successful mission.

Still, I was not content. There was a park that I had visited often as a youth, and I wanted to return to it. Not knowing the name, I switched the GPS to map mode and searched all the surrounding lakes. There was one area with two close together, named Taylor park. The two lake configuration, as well as the name struck something inside me, and off we went again.

It was here that I had set off for, originally. Ironically there were no gators to be seen here. Still, being back here was reward in and of its own. Never did I think I'd be back here. The roller blade trail where I spent a lot of time not knowing how to stop, and crashing to the ground, was just as it once was, and the picnic tables where I used to sit playing an old baseball game on my long forgotten SEGA Game Gear were still exactly where they'd always been.

I had Katherine take a picture of me standing beside a tree that I had a picture taken beside half a life ago. The only difference now, aside from a terrible amount of hair, is that my shorts these days are a more respectable grey rather than all sorts of rainbow neons – as was the style at the time, you must understand.

Walking around the pond, the memories all came flooding back. Being close to gators, the trees being torn down by tropical storms, a kid informing my father and I that America owned Alaska – over and over, no matter how many times we agreed with him...

And then it started to rain. We booked on out of there pretty fast after that – completely soaked by the time we returned to the car.

Back on route to Tallahassee. Hours of podcasts later, we were there – with Shark Week on Discovery to greet us. Apparently sharks have seven sense. The coolest? Electrosense – they can sense your soul, and wish for nothing more than to eat it! Well – they sense the electrical field that surrounds you. You can hide, and you can be silent, but you're always giving off the electrical field, and those bitey fish? They're always there to find it. Fantastical!

Cleaning in Port Charlotte

A final day in Port Charlotte. I wish I could say that it was a final day in Florida, but trying to push out of state all in one shot? Well that seems like a pretty crazy idea. Florida is a terribly long state. The Simpson's describes it as America's Wang – fair enough.

Final load of clothing in the Washing machine – who knows when we'll have the luxury of clean clothes without any cost again? But then – then comes the sweeping, and the vacuuming, and the covering drains with tin foil. Why cover the drains with tin foil? Well, I haven't entirely worked that out – but it was on the checklist of things to do when closing up this place here, so who am I to question it?

And packing – for the last few weeks I've been free of living out of a back pack. I didn't go so far as to use drawers or closets, but a pile of things strewn on the floor, without fear of having them stolen, or 'cleaned away', well that's was a luxury. Now I had to repack, separating t-shirts into one pouch, shorts into another, boxers into a final. It seems that I had more clothing now than ever before. I could not go an entire week without having to re-wear a single item. Well, except for shorts – but they'd need only do a few days a pair. Back, even a few weeks ago, I had five shirts and one pair of shorts.

In the re-pack I also allowed myself the privilege of leaving one shirt behind in Florida, which will make its way back to me some time in 2011. This shirt has haunted me for months now, always being the last to be worn. When I left back in September, I liked it. It was a rather warm shirt, but has since become too warm, too scratchy – I dreaded ever having to put it on. It was my greatest fear that I should look to my bag and have only it remaining. But now, with newly purchased items, its days of torment are behind me! At last, I am free.

Free at last, free at last.

With as much cleared away as could be we headed out to Wal-Mart. This had nothing to do with needing to throw out bags of garbage, I can assure you that. There is no way that we would do that, as dumping home garbage in public places is illegal. Still, after weeks of rinsing out all metal cans, and plastic jugs – hoping to recycle them (it turned out we had no recycling bin) – we had amassed a great number of them. They were crushed by our make shift stomp-factory where we embraced our inner third grader. Finding themselves bagged for disposal they needed a receptacle. But, again, we would never toss them in one outside of Wal-Mart.

At the Wal-Mart we decided to grab ourselves a going away treat – a small slab of Birthday Cake (the type with the terrible plastic-tasting icing that Katherine oh so loves), a cake in the shape of a puppy, a pint of Phish Food Ice Cream, and a box of strawberries. Seeing our purchase, the man at the checkout counter laughed, “Man, I'm coming to your place later. This is how to throw a party.”

As we ate our diabetes enhancing desserts, watching the cartoon Archer – as well as catching up on the latest True Blood – the weather outside took a turn for the worst. Rain began to pour down in great sheets, while lightening filled the blanks in the darkness. It reminded me of last night, when the sky filled, momentarily with a pseudo daylight. Without any sound of thunder the sky flashed white, all around, before returning to darkness. The eerie strobing continued on as we stood outside, watching – rain nowhere to be seen.

When finally the thunder made itself heard, the spell was broken, and we returned inside where we sliced the head off our sugar-filled puppy and began to dig in. Morbid, creepy, and relatively delicious (until the stomach aches to follow.) What more could one ask for on a final day?

To The Beach

Second last day in Florida – and with the last day demanding time to pack, and clean, and get ready to move on, this is the last day to relax. Clearly there was only one thing we could do... Head to the beach.

Fifty five minutes outside of Port Charlotte is the town of Venice. We went through it on our way to Sarasota. Without the need of a Scott Pilgrimage we were free to actually hang around and laze on the beach today. Beaches are not really my thing. Or maybe it's the water. No, to be truthful, it's the salt water. It tastes gross, it feels – for lack of a better word – icky. It's not my thing. And you just sit around and get heat stroke.

Still, I'm told many a girl enjoys lounging on the beach, and Katherine is no exception. So off we went, her driving up to it while I read some more of Forrest Gump to us.

Now – look – you've seen the movie, you think you know what's what – but I assure you this book is nothing like the movie. Not after about page one hundred. Up to that point you can see where it's going, and you can recognize the tale for what it was. Then, I can only assume this to be true, the author started experimenting with drugs. Lots of drugs. Heavy drugs. And the tale takes a turn for the WTF.

Forrest goes to jail, and since he is a genius with math (the novel Forrest is more of a Rainman) NASA blackmails him into going up in a rocket with a female astronaut and a monkey. (Karl Pilkerton would be proud.) Next thing you know, they're being blasted up up an away, but wait – the monkey was switched by accident. Instead of a well trained female gorilla it's an angry male the pulls the circuits apart. Oh noes! Then the ship is falling to Earth, but Forrest uses his math skills to save it, landing in New Guinea.

A bunch of cannibals take them as prisoners, but luckily one of them was taught at Yale during World War 2 and will spare their lives so long as Forrest doesn't lose to him at Chess. As luck would have it, Forrest is a Chess master too. So for four years they live there, the female astronaut hooking up with one of the people who wanted to eat her.

Then the Chess Cannibal has Forrest grow cotton, for which a barge is constructed. Forrest is in the middle of losing a game, when he escapes under the pretense of having to pee, gets the monkey, the woman, and her new lover onto the boat – but is stopped. Just as the Yale cannibal is about to eat them all, the Pygmies come and capture everyone. Yale cannibal is thrown into a cooking pot and eaten, but before he dies he tells Forrest to play harmonica to woo the king of the Pygmies.

Forrest does this, and says they are a band. The monkey plays the spears, and the woman plays the knives. The Pygmy king gives them these things, and they then use them to fight for freedom. Just as they are almost caught, NASA rescuers canoe through the jungle to save them in the nick of time – four years too late – claiming they had 'other things to deal with.'

The woman stays in the jungle with her new husband creature, and the monkey stays too. But fear not, for after Forrest goes through a phase as a professional wrestler, he meets the monkey again on the set of a movie that he stars in – until he ends up stripped Raquel Welch naked, by accident becoming black balled from the industry. Luckily he gets to keep the monkey – as they are best friends.

I'm still thirty five pages from the end, and it's starting to calm down again – but whatever the author was on for those fifty? My lord, if they don't just reinforce my opinion that drugs are bad!

Then we were at the beach. It turned out we had a great big beach umbrella, which was good, as the shade made sitting on the sand more bearable. It also made the sand far less painful to step on. Until a foot accidentally reached out into the sun. Yow!

Being honest, I think I kinda dug the beach. Being able to kick back and read (this time The Congo) and not worry about anything? Well there's something to be said for that. And having the ability to get up off the chair and wander down into the ocean whenever you wanted? That wasn't too bad either. I forgot how easy it was to float in salt water. Closing your eyes, and just laying there... that's a good feeling, so long as you can keep the creeping suspicion that a rip is pulling you out to sea from your mind.

I could have used three or four degrees colder water. It was as if we were swimming around in a bunch of three year olds urine. But, you know, that's fine – everyone else was doing it – so...

When we actually left – Katherine being the one to pull the plug – I found that my earlier preconceptions of this place were wrong. Give me some shade, and a good book, and I am more than willing to sit around all day doing nothing. The type of nothing where you don't feel like you should be doing something. S'good.

And then back home to start getting things together to leave the day after tomorrow.

Just before going to sleep we finished up the HBO series, The Pacific. I tell you what – I think they made a mistake on this one. Band of Brothers? That was great. But by the end of The Pacific, I couldn't tell you who the characters were, nor why I should care about them. It was just hour after hour of them in jungle shooting and killing. Opportunity missed. The bombing of Hiroshima, Pearl Harbour, Midway – these things needed touching on. I get it, you're showing that the marines did nothing but live in terrible conditions, fighting mostly unremembered battles – but then you get to Iwo Jima, and don't even show the flag being raised? Also – showing the Japanese perspective? That could have been a bloody brilliant thing to do. The German soldiers were humanized in Band of Brothers all the time.

I get the point of the series – but it would be like having band of Brothers be ten episodes of being shelled in the French forests. I remember two episodes from the Pacific that didn't blur together – the Australia episode, and the final one. Unfortunately I never made connections with any of the characters (real people) throughout this series, so seeing how they ended up didn't really have all that much of a pay off.

But that's me, gripe gripe gripe.

Enough of looking back, and more looking forward. Pretty soon we'll be pushing on to Alabama, and then off to New Orleans. There's still a great big country ahead of us, and I am looking forward to seeing it.

Florida: Planning for Vegas

With a lot of the trip planning done yesterday, it was time to get serious and make ready to leave this state of Florida – not to mention the state of passive stagnation that comes with this land of sunshine. I imagine it's this allure that drive seniors by the dying bus load down these parts in their twilight years.

Their elder years, not to be confused with years brought on by sparkling creatures of the – sometimes – night.

Our first, and really – only – step that we needed to take today was to head to the library and look at how much it was going to cost to spend a night in Las Vegas. Having a waypoint set (up until now it was Florida) where you have everything preset an taken care of is a great way to not get overloaded by travel. Even if you're just setting out day to day, it's important to have an anchor here or there.

We checked the prices of Vegas on the weekends – one hundred dollars for a Saturday night was good value. Then we checked just how much it would cost if we headed down during the week. While Vegas may seem pricey for weekend warriors, a night in a good hotel can cost as little as twenty dollars a night. Indeed these are the same rooms that quadruple in price for a Friday / Saturday stay. Clearly our next move was obvious. We would not be rolling up on a weekend, like suckers. Nay, we would come in on a Tuesday night, and be on our way Friday morning. Three nights for less than the price of one.

It wasn't enough to secure a hotel on The Strip. No – Vegas does not hold that much allure for me. I'm sure once I get there the coloured lights will hypnotize, while sparkling someone else's eyes, but now – over a thousand miles away – I just shrug my shoulders at the gambling capital.

What has us headed towards Vegas is a large man, with but one nail painted, and his cohort of lesser stature. These two have created a zombie short, and the most painful video game of all time – Desert Bus. They also work to educate the world through their television show Penn and Teller.

We are off to Vegas to see them live. Buying tickets for the VIP section (it's only ten bucks more, and comes with a colour book – ohh ahh – and lets us sit near the front... when will we get this opportunity again?) we cringed a little as each ticket was more than the combined price of our three night stay, but then – you know – we're going to see Penn and Teller. How cool is that?

That question, I will answer for you – very cool.

With tickets and hotel secured, there was but one small issue. We had now pushed back our Vegas date by three nights. Three fill in the blank days. What would we do with them? The obvious answer: stay in Florida and not pay rent. But how long could we stay sane under such 'domestic bliss'? We would have to get out.

A pen and paper were grabbed, dates re-planned, and everything made sense of. We would stay here two extra days, and then make our way with one buffer – just in case. Sure there are other buffers built into the plan, but to be honest – I just can't think of anything else to do here. Not without the proper time to get down to the Keys and back. Another time.

Before leaving the library, and the internet, there was one more thing to take care of. Something I'd been putting off for ten years. I needed to get my power boating license. Yes, a decade ago, it was put into action – but because of when I was born, I didn't need it until last September. Of course, last September, I left the country and there was still no real rush. Eleven years after I should have got it, I now find myself in front of the testing webpage, ready to pay my forty dollars and take the thirty six question test.

I have not had to take a test for some time, and even though you are allowed unlimited re-tries, an could theoretically cheat (you have forty five minutes to answer these questions, you could look up the answers whenever you wanted) it still made me a wee bit nervous. With the timer started, I looked at the first, then the second, having very little problems. You see – I actually read the forty five page manual earlier today. It seemed like the honest thing to do. And some of the questions were those hilarious random answers that your old history teacher may have been partial to adding. Q: When in limited visibility, what is the correct course of action? A. Slow down and change, adapting to conditions, B. Speed up and let everyone know you're coming through regardless.

With questions like this, it's hard to imagine anyone needing the retry – still it was a nice buffer. At the end of the test I had two wrong answers – one on a type of buoy not listed in the book, and the other on a part of a sail boat. Being allowed something like six wrong answers, this was not an issue.

With that done, I could step into the present, and never fear not being able to drive the boat again. All was once again right in the world.

Things being what they are, we got an incredible amount of things accomplished today.

I also shot off a few e-mails to those I know in California. After Las Vegas, that state won't be far away. No doubt we'll be there in no time.

Scrapbooking and Trip Prep

I'm makin' waffles!

Sadly I could not don the shirt that reinforced such a proclamation. No, for it was far too hot for such a shirt. In the screened off outside I poured batter, worked machines, and transferred finished products into an oven set for two hundred. Forty minutes it took from batter mixing to plating to get four waffles cooked. No sane family would ever make waffles. If I ever want them again, I will ensure to obtain two to four waffle makers. Doing them in bulk? That I could handle. The only type of person I could see doing this is the stay at home parent who gets up early, and has lunches to pack while the breakfast cooks.

Still – there's something good about mashing up half a pineapple, and chunking a bit more to make a tasty treat. Waffles are the best place to get rid of fruit closing in on its final deadline. I've heard jello is a good hiding place too, but I wouldn't know of that – I'm too impatient to wait for it to set, and the ice cube quick set method listed on the back of the box? It's never worked for me.

Today was just a day to get some final things sorted out. While Katherine stayed behind to read, and not-do-yoga, I headed to the library to finish uploading my pictures to facebook so as people I've not talked to in years – and two people whom I'm not sure who they are, but have been on my friends list since two thousand and seven (they mystery of whom they are – same university, and they're friends with each other – was too great to cast aside.) - can see me travelling around the world. They can also see close to one hundred pictures from wrestling now.

The pain of getting them up yesterday was gone. As soon as I saw the small out of the way link for the Java photo unloader I was golden. The new one? No good. You just select photos and upload. Heaven help you if you have any in portrait, you'll need to rotate them all by hand – the old one lets you rotate the thumbnails quickly all at once.

But never mind this.

During the uploading process I had no more Scotty P to read, however I did manage to upload more blogs, get the photos added to those, an write a new entry while waiting. Closer and closer I come to completing the back log of entries that has haunted me since I stepped away from Port Charlotte. Luckily, now that I'm back the days have become far less interesting, consumed with television, and books, and eating. So much eating. Meals are not the annoyances that get in the way of the things I'd rather do. No, meals are the thing that I'd rather do – the things that let us know time is passing. I know, I'm disgusted too.

Still – it could be worse, we could be going to fast food places, rather than just making sandwiches, and what not.

After the library I headed back, and we had to take a look at our plan to make our way across America. We are a week behind, even though we cut the week off in Boston. Florida has taken longer, and we've added a day here (D.C.), while removing a day there (A.C.)

Now that we know how we travel, we can make a better guess of how long it will take us to get from point A to point B. For the most part, the next two weeks on the road have been mapped out. They'll take us through Louisiana, through to Texas, out into the middle of nowhere to find aliens at Roswell, continuing on until we hit Vegas. There are other stops – of course – but that's the general path we'll be taking. Fourteen hour days of driving, as originally planned, have been split up. Surely we'll find something of interest along the way. And if not – well then, we'll make up a day here and there.

Both of us are itching to leave the comfort of Port Charlotte, but at the same time have become quite used to it. A coin toss, so to speak, will determine when we leave. Vegas – we're looking to go there on a weekend, and see a Penn and Teller show. Tomorrow we'll head to the library and check out if we can grab tickets for the show, and also a place to stay. If going a weekend following saves money, then the die is cast and we spend one more terrible (read: relaxing) week here (I'll try to think of some things to do to get us out of this town) otherwise, we have just one final day...

It's hard to say how it will turn out, but here's hoping. Once Vegas is planned, everything else will slowly start to fall into place. Pretty soon after that will be the long, oh so very long, crawl up the California coast. And then? Then we're almost home. It will be August soon – who saw that coming?

It seems like, even though it was in the title, I didn't talk about scrapbooking. That was done too.

Back in Port Charlotte

The note left on the windscreen worked. Garbage was on the street, and the car had been moved. All was well in the world once more.

Waking up early I started to – well I started to blog. There's no way around it. There had been a number of days to do, and the wrestling events required their own entries. Each night at Universal I was far too tired to do anything but sleep afterwards. And now it was all catching up to me. The lack of a fully functional D key still held me back. It still does. I can only guess how many times the word “an” exists where it should read “and.” Spell checker and my eyes help me catch a lot, but they're probably but a drop in the bucket. There's no way spell checker can help with the an/and problem.

When I'd typed up three entries I figured that would be good enough. To the library. But first to Books-a-Million where we were told a copy of Scott Pilgrim 6 would be kept waiting for us. I had lessened my excitement as we'd been foiled in this quest many times before – but now? Now? They had it! With glee I paid, and then off to use the public computers at thelibrary.

Katherine emailed her family while I fought to get the blog updated. I then noticed that I could toss Facebook images up once more. I had lost the ability to do that on my laptop back in Australia, or New Zealand, but here on these computers I could work some magic. Their new Flash Uploader? Terrible on these comps, and in two hours (max limit here) I barely got four hundred images up. OK – most people don't have a thousand pictures to toss onto facebook, but some of us do, alright?

During that time I was able to read Scott Pilgrim, though. And let me say volume six? It's the first really well written one. He has clearly matured as a writer over the past six years. The only problem – he retcons, and changes character motivation. As there was a four month gap in time, I can understand things would have changed – but my favourite character Kim was written out. She went from being a main character into showing up on maybe five or so pages. The author also manages to ret con the moment where Scott works to fight hard to win her love, changing it to a false memory implant.

I dig the Final Fantasy VII shout out here, but please – if you're an author and your realize that you scripted yourself into a corner, write your way out. Deus Ex Machina works well when it's a joke, as in the previous volume, but here? Having Kim tell Scott that they were never that great, and having her say they can never be together – after five volumes of Kim being silently in love with him, well that's just crap. Not to mention it meant dropping the angle where Ramona was so obsessed with Kim as well. Ugh, but that ret con – where Scott's battle was a false memory... I can't let that go. Not because I don't like the idea of it being a false memory – but because other characters in the “present” talk about the battle, which means it must have happened, and couldn't just be a fake memory of Scotts.

I've not been so disappointed in an ending since Strangers in Paradise, where they completely changed how it would finish (the first pages showed the end – but then September 11th happened, the author got sad, and decided to make a happy ending, which – again – would have been fine, if he rewrote a new beginning too. Ai ya.)

The things that upset me most, are those that had so much potential to be great. I look forward to the movie as it was all written as one. It's easy to forgive someone for changing their thoughts during a six year span. Things happen. And as I said, volume six? Quite well written. So there's that. Scott Pilgrim. Done.

After the library – and many more books bought at the book sale. Ai ya – what am I going to do? One was a sweet hard cover collected Lord of the Rings for only a buck fifty though – so that's good, yeah?

Well, after that excitement we headed off to Wal-Mart to buy some more food, then retired back to our home to eat said food, and finish watching season three of the Venture brother. After that? Off to sleep.

A Final Day at Universal Studios Florida

Universal Studios Florida, where you can ride the movies. What fun!

It's been a good three days, and here we are at the end of our days here. Day four. Islands of Adventure calls once more, and we take our second day there. For anyone planning on checking out Universal, four days really is required. You could try to rush through it in two, one for each park, and that's more than doable if you have the X-Press (skip the lines) pass, but otherwise, take four – relax, enjoy it. With the hours lost each day to the wrestling, we couldn't have done it in any less time. Also – the price of a one day ticket is something silly like 107.00 now, due to Harry Potter. A four day pass? That's only 135.00 – it just makes sense.

Speaking of Harry Potter – as we walked in, there were guards yelling that those wishing to see the Wizarding World would need to walk around through Jurassic Park. This was only a little confusing as the main entrance, where you walk into town passing the train, gaining the unbelievable view of the town, as you look down main street, with the castle over head, is through Seuss Landing.

Was this to try and control the flow of people? Or had the train exploded causing that section to be blocked off? Maybe a child projectile vomited everywhere? Who could say. All I knew is that meant everyone would be wandering the park away from Seuss Landing, allowing us a chance to get in there and ride the rides without having to wait in long lines.

Now, I knew the area would be somewhat empty, but I didn't expect the ghost town that I came across. There were no lines. None – you just walked up, and got right on. Which was great, because these rides? They're interesting, but I would not have found them as lovely if I stood for half an hour to gain the experience.

The Cat in the Hat is the only ride you need to do here. Strapping yourself into the cart, you are taken through a mixed up wonderland telling the entire tale from the much beloved book. The entire text comes to life, with the recreated home being intruded upon by The Cat, and his two Things. The poor goldfish is as tormented as others, and the children narrate the tale.

The cutesy nature, and constant rhyming may create the “It's a Small World” effect for some – a strong desire to destroy everything in sight – but for most, this is as close to a book come alive as you'll ever find.

By the end of the ride, I found myself questioning who was really at fault – as a child, you blame the cat, perhaps – then as you grow, you blame the children for allowing him in and not listening to the fish, but then you reach a stage where it becomes obvious that this large, in charge, cat with blue haired alien beasts busted his way into the home. There was nothing the children could have done to stop him. Then one needs to ask themselves what type of parent leaves children unattended for extended periods of time? If this cat – who seemed to enjoy cleaning up after breaking things – could get in, what other sort of people could make their way into the house, gaining access to the youngsters? Clearly this is a cautionary tale for adults more than anything.

This is why I can't enjoy any more. University, you ruined me.

Next up in Seuss land was One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. You jumped into either a red, blue, single, or double fish. Then the rhyme was played over the speakers telling you to go up or down depending on the fish you were in. If you did as you were told, huzzah – you stayed dry. Should you have gone against the rhyme, you would be squirted with water. Avoiding is easy – getting wet? That takes real work. I disobeyed as best I could, only managing a small sprinkle. The jets always seemed to turn off just before I was to hit them.

If there is a second ride in Seuss land that you must take it is the Trolley. The Seuss Trolley is a train that makes its way over head through the entire Seuss land. The line, were you to wait in it – as I said, we just walked right on – tells the story of the Sneeches. On board, you wind through the fantastical town and have various sights pointed out to you. Each building here has significance, and there are all sorts of hidden references to other texts that you would have most likely missed, lest to take this ride. It also pointed out Sneech Beach, where they lounged in the water fishing.

Once more, told entirely in rhyme, this narrated tour of Seuss Landing is well worth the experience. And while the signs may tell you no photography, don't worry – if those two crazy moms in front of you keep snapping away at their darlingest dearest, you'll probably be fine too.

Off the train we headed back to one of the sights we'd seen from above – If I Ran the Zoo.

We grabbed some Moose Juice and Goose Juice on route. These Oosey Juices? Purple slushie.

In “The Zoo” you have to crawl through holes, and make your way behind little mazes, fulfilling certain requirements like pumping a lever, turning on a faucet, or tickling toes to make monsters pop up for your amusement. There is also a small children's water park hidden back here.

More of a play area than a ride, there are no lines – you just need to wander in and experience more of the wondrous world of Dr. Seuss.

From Seuss we explored the Lost Continent, which was more or less just a temple you walked through, watching pyro effects, and laughing at a guide's jokes. There was also a fountain here with a camera in its mouth, so it could talk to you if you threw a coin in. Finally there was a stunt show – but that was forty five minutes away. We would check out Harry Potter's world before coming back for that.

We headed towards Potter Land, determined to see why we couldn't enter from this direction. When we got to the gate, the entire opening had been boarded up. No one was going in or out. Had something terrible happened during the last two days? Walking around, we made our way into Jurassic Park to go through the other entrance. Here the land was open, and we started to make our way inside.

“What are you doing?” a guard asked.
“Isn't this the way to Potter Land?”
“Yeah – but you gotta line up for it!”

Line up for it? Really? You have to line up to enter an area, and then line up again to ride a ride? You have got to be kidding! There was no line on Sunday. People who line up have to enter through this gate, which is more of a back door, than down the awe inspiring main strip?

There was anger and rage bubbling to the surface. I wanted to see it again, but I wasn't going to wait in line. As I made my way to the Jurassic Park river ride, once more, I noticed the line snaked back the entire distance. It must have been a three hour wait just to get in! No wonder there were no lines for anything – everyone really was in this terrible terrible monstrosity.

Instead of an hour, we waited only twenty minutes to board the river cruise, and once more we made our way through Jurassic Park, still awed by the great drop at the end. I can't explain how much I loved this ride. Had I experienced it in my youth, I think I don't think I could have loved it any more than I do now. Timeless joy.

We rushed back to the Lost Continent and grabbed seats for the Sindbad stunt show... it wasn't s great, and we'll leave it at that. Where most of the shows are well worth going to in these parks, this one? It can be skipped free of regrets.

With Harry Potter cut off, we walked back around the park to the main gate. There funnel cake was to be found. The biggest, most gigantic, ice cream, whipped cream, strawberry, sugar, chocolate sauced funnel cake I'd ever seen. All for the low low price of six fifty. Most parks had raised the prices on these to near double, but here was a delicious treat at a price I could get behind. Shared, it was filling. For one to eat the whole thing? That would be a challenge. And as much as I loved it, it wasn't me who could be seen licking the plate clean at the end.

From the tasty treat we entered, once more, in Marvel Superhero Island. We skipped the Hulk coaster first time through. We would not skip it again. For the first time today we found ourselves in a real line. Forty minutes we waited. At the thirty five minute mark we had to choose if we'd carry on, or wait in the first row line. We'd come this far – we might as well wait for the front row. It's one thing to ride along, it's another to have a perfect view of everything coming up, watching the hill in front of you give way to twists and turns, and spins.

Taking four people per row, waiting for the front only left us two coasters back from where we would have been. Those extra two minutes were well worth it, for the view as we plunged into a tunnel of mist, before rolling up an over the entire park. Roller coasters – what fun, and delight they can be! Now if only I could get that repeating “I am Bruce Banner, blah blah blah” video out of my head that they had set to repeat in the line. Dr. Doom's Leopold, it was not.

Time had passed by this point. We looked around shops, we wandered through areas, and we ate a pizza lunch down in Toon Lagoon. We also climbed up and explored the Olive – Popeye's ship, with three levels of interactive play. The best part were the canons on the side, which could be fired at the people riding a raft ride down below. They would look up, wondering why they were wet all of a sudden, only to see us shooting down at them. There was also one boy who seemed far too old to be so excited, screaming like a pirate, giving us all orders. It would have been weird were it not so funny. It's good to see teenagers who have not fallen into the, “must act cool all the time,” phase. Although, unlike many of the others his age, he didn't have a bikini-clad girl hanging off of him. There may be some correlation there. Still – fun's fun.

By the time we were back in Jurassic Park, the line for Harry Potter seemed shorter – actually the farther we walked, we realized that it no longer existed at all. In the area we walked – suckers, waiting hours. There's the secret, if there's a line, enjoy the rest of the park, come back later.

The problem with limiting the people inside is that you will make them feel like if they leave they'll never get back in, which will prevent them from leaving, which will prevent others from entering, which will create the line that makes people think they'll never get back in – open it up and all's well. In an area where you need to line up to enter restaurants and shops, why not just let people walk around as they will?

The main entrance, with the fantastic view was also accessible now that the line was gone.

First things first, we made our way to the Hippogriff ride. It was the only one we skipped before, as it was childish, but I wanted to see the line. The lines here are so fantastic, they can be better than the rides at times. This line took us past Hagred's cottage, and the care of magical creatures class. There was also a baby Hippogriff that needed to be bowed to in order to gain its respect.

The lines in this area were still long, and we were looking at a forty five minute wait for a coaster that I didn't really care to ride all that much. Still, when the sky got grey thirty minutes in, I didn't want to lose the opportunity. By thirty five minutes there was rain and lightening. It was still a ways off though. I wondered how long it would be until the ride was shut down. Forty minutes, and the lightening was close – as shocked as I was they were still operating it, I wanted to get on. Finally we sat on board, and screamed and hollered (the only on our ride to do so) as it slowly banked corners, and returned to the station. The train following our was the last to leave the station. The ride was shut down. Had we taken a minute or two more to get in line we would have missed out on the opportunity.

With the day stretching on, aware that we had to return to Port Charlotte this night, we started to finish up. Still, we could not leave until we had ridden the Harry Potter ride once more. The line up was said to be seventy five minutes, ninety if you needed lockers. I quickly left the line, went around to the store, and accessed the lockers from another side, skipping that whole line. Now we just had seventy five minutes. Entering the single riders line we cut that down to twenty. Twenty is a good amount of time to wait. When you can't see the rider beside you the singles line is a perfect option.

I was with a family that included a young girl who screamed and shrieked with every dementor an spider. It was a great experience to hear how the ride was meant to be experienced. I also found myself looking at how the ride worked (the simulator dome screen moves with your cart during those sections.) Also, parts that were broken the first time – the Willow, and the Hermione videos – were up and running.

It was far better the second time as you could look around, and fully experience it, rather than just being amazed by the fact that it exists.

With that checked off we started to leave – but couldn't. Not before going to Olivander's wand shop. This required a fifty minute wait to get in. Inside Olivander choose two people to test the wands and see if they were right. Ladders were moved, bells were rung, an lights shone from above. It was a cute little piece of magic that brought the world to life – next up was the wand shop proper, full of people willing to pay thirty dollars for their own wand. The best part of them? The authentic Olivander's box they come in.

Here you could also pay one hundred dollars to buy your child robes. It's shocking how many wee ones I saw walking around in them. Cosplay is alive and well, and fully funded, here.

Out of one shop, and into another. Having learned that Chocolate Frogs do come with trading cards, Katherine had to have one. With her new prize secured she was ready to go – but could we really leave without eating a meal at the Hog's Head, or Three Broomsticks? No – we could not. Just to see inside the two establishments, and explore their detailed interior makes it all worth while.

Then it was time to go. The hours were passing by, but as we passed the Caro-Seuss-el we knew we had to ride it, experiencing every attraction in that zone.

NOW we were good to leave.

As I passed in and out of sleep, Katherine made the two and a half hour drive home. Finally pulling up, there was a mysterious car in our driveway. No one had told us to expect this. But this time we parked lower down the drive way, and wrote a note reading, “We're still here – can you please pull out around us, on the grass. Also – as your car is blocking the garbage, can you take that down to the road for us as well? If you need us to move the car, bang and ring on the door. Thanks.”

Hopefully this would allow me to sleep in a little later tomorrow.

TNA - Total Nonstop Action Wrestling - Day Two

TNA Xplosion Wresling. The lights dim, the crowd momentarily quiets, and to a burst of fire works two women make their way from the back stage area down towards the ring. The night of wrestling is about to begin.

With the women's tag team belt on the line, this might be a match worth watching. It's possible that there will be some actual skill here. The second the girls come into view though, it is obvious that this will be nothing more than a painfully boring women's wrestling match.

In a skirt shorter than her knickers the first girl takes to the ring, making sure to bend long and low. Her partner was dressed as if out of Greek myth as retold by an Australian production company. They spent far too long jumping around and hugging in the middle of the ring to have any skill whatsoever. They were eye candy and nothing more.

Running to the ring was Hamade, as unattractive as she was the night before, and her partner ranging somewhere between her an the two in the ring. Perhaps it would be a good match after all. It's unfortunate that you can normally determine ability as directly related to the unattractiveness of a female wrester, but with the exception of WWE's Trish Stratus, this rarely fails.

It may not have been good, but at least it was fast. Hamade made short work of the two girls dancing around the ring, allowing for the belts to change hands. A temper tantrum was thrown by the losers, leading into the commercial break.

During the match the women's champion walked the aisle, watching the match, talking to the camera – heard at home, but not to us. Once more I thought of just how much wrestlers were the modern day super heroes. They walk up, strike a pose, fight for justice, and to decide right and wrong, strike another pose, and go on their way.

In real life, problems are not solved with a simple fight – and even if they were, walking towards a fight in progress, posing in your dotted bra, and ripped jeans, talking smack before walking away would lead to no resolution. In a comic book, however, that's pretty much par for the course.

Sure comics have been made with wrestlers. There's a terrible one right now where John Cena has gone to fight monsters in hell. It's best to not think about it – but there's no need to really take it any further than it already is. Leave the fights as they area between the face and the heel – just turn the ring into a city or something.

The next match was more proof that TNA was “total nonstop action.” Few matches in TNA are just regular fights. That's what I'm learning. They all need to be title shots, or have special rules. The next one? An X-Treme X fight. It's pretty much a ladder match, without the ladders. A criss crossing tight rope is suspended over the stage, with an X hanging from the middle. The wrestler who climbs over and gets the X first wins.

Motor City Machine Guns once more defeated Beer Money. There were a few high wire stunts, but it was slow, like most tag-team matches are. The only real bit of entertainment was when Beer Money fought each other over who would climb up to get the X, each trying to claim he was drunker than the other. I'm not saying there was a lot of entertainment from that spot, but a bit.

Then Hogan walked out to the ring, washing away any painful memories of the first two matches. When Hogan talks, you listen. How can you not be thrilled as he rotates his wrist, cupping his ear with his hand, to all four corners? Hulkamania is a truly tough thing to kill.

He started explaining once more how it was time for the old guard to step aside, and make room for the new wrestlers. This seems to be a theme they're pushing in TNA, and in a world where so many of the guys wrestling today are the same as whom I grew up with, this seems very important. But then Kevin Nash (AKA Big Daddy Cool Diesel) took to the ring and started shouting. He looks like a member of Metallica, and is known in the industry to be a jerk. I pictured his cries of how he deserves to be in the spot light as being more his own words than those of his character.

Hulk claimed that their time had passed, “bruther,” but then Nash started a fight – and Hogan took to the punching. It's one thing to see him talk, but another to see him in action. Once more I was a wee child, watching WWF Superstars on Saturday morning.

Things were going well too, until Nash got the upper hand. Double J took to the stage to even the odds, but out of nowhere Sting (in Red face paint, rather than the white and black Crow get up that made me love him so during the glory years of WCW) jumped him with the bat, which was then passed to Nash who used it on Hogan. Things were looking rough for the good guys, all until – well until Sting and Nash decided they'd done enough damage and walked away.

As he was helped out of the ring, Hogan's tattoo was displayed. I took pictures of it, but still can't make it out. “I am what I am”? The word What doesn't look right though. I spent a few moments trying to zoom in and make it out. I failed.

Next up was Orlando Jones whose bit was that he was a homosexual. He shared many of the mannerisms of Lafayette from True Blood, and for this was the Face of the match for me. His opponent was a raging straight character. It must be really hard to pull off the role of “uber straight” in an entertainment field where you spend most of your time oiled up rolling around, entwined with other half naked men.

Every time Orlando would suck his finger, or lolly pop the heel would get enraged, and make to fight him. This meant holding him from behind and gyrating. The wrestlers must know that their role is neigh impossible to pull off, still they will do what they do.

The following match was another piece of history for me. Ric Flair was fighting in a street fight. Flair is far too old to still be in the ring. He was old when I was first watching. Today is is not in bad shape, but skin hangs off him, and his arms are shadows of what they were. Still – his character has power, and his chops are legendary.

His chops quickly failed, and he was manhandled by his opponent. It was sad to watch at one point. With Earl Heffner reffing, one could be excused for questioning why the urban youth was beating up the two geriatrics, and why people were enjoying it. It was almost disturbing. Especially when Flair was busted open, blood everywhere, stripped to his underwear – his suit ripped off him.

I could have gone my whole life without ever seeing Ric Flair's butt – but that was not to be my fate.

Close up pictures I took indicated where he had taped the razer to his finger before the fight. With his face covered in blood he was the perfect living embodiment of why wrestlers need to let the new generation take over. His time is done, fiction or no fiction, there is no power to him any more. Just saggy saggy chest flaps, blowing with the lightest breeze.

All heroes eventually pass.

In the following match Rob Van Damme took revenge on Raven for what happened last week (yesterday) on the show. There was a terrible five minute speech about how Raven should have been Dreamer's kids father, and blah blah blah – then the fight. When it ended all the old ECW guys got together in the ring, beer was brought out, and it was like 1994 all over again.

The Dudley brothers were together, Hogan was there, Foley was in the ring. RVD was pounding back brew after brew, and a couple of guys I'd never heard of were busy finishing the case while spitting most of it all over the fans in the front row. Some were loving it. One little boy was just confused and angry.

All the while Enter Sandman was being played. It was as if time had stopped for me in High School. This was the 1994 party I had always wanted. Beers, well known characters, and the iconic music of the time. Then I remembered that sixteen years had passed, and that the TNA program were actually doing this now. I was more than slightly confused.

But not as confused as when the party ended, ten minutes later, an the show wasn't over. There were still two matches to go. Two terrible terrible matches.

Hamade came back out – joy – to fight a Goth Lolli girl who could do the splits and kiss her toes. She screeched and screamed more than any wrestler girl I'd before heard. It was pure pain. But it was soon over. Hamade taking the win.

The final match? The British Invasion against Ink Inc. More tag team. It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't good. No – you know what, at that point I wanted to leave, so it must have been terrible. Half the fans had already cleared out.

The British Invasion took the win when their manager distracted one of Ink Inc's guys with a dog tag. The British fans were happy. Half the audience were Brits. They were the ones who really got into the fights. I wondered if they were here simply because it was going on, and they really wanted to see the Harry Potter land, or if they'd come all this way to watch TNA wrestling. The way the hollered, and screamed, it could have gone either way really.

Another Day at Universal Studios, Orlando

Day three in Orlando. The day started with a fantastic IHOP breakfast, where the minion taters were far better than they’d ever been in Port Charlotte, or even DC. The pancakes were numbered three instead of two, and it was just like a heavenly heart attack in my mouth. If walking around in the sun, ten miles at least, a day was going to help me get in shape – these breakfasts were sure to keep things in a nice orderly balance.

Rather than heading to the Islands of Adventure, as was the initial plan, we headed back for Universal Studios. The reason? There was a second day of free wrestling. Katherine didn’t love it, so to speak, but she didn’t hate it. And as for me? I did enjoy it. It was a kick back to a simple time when entertainment was just mindless fun. I may not be able to sit through hours of televised wrestling these days, but it’s sure fun to see when you can scream and shout, and are surrounded by blood thirsty viewers waiting for people to beat the snot out of one another.

While we had ridden all the rides yesterday, there were a number of shows at Universal Studios that we had not seen. They would have taken too much time. This is why we had budgeted two days at each park. Today would be the show day.

We started off by waiting in the shade of the New York streets alleys, sitting on boxes. For a moment we could have been confused as players in the show. I wish I hade period clothing to wear.

Out of the blistering heat – literally blistering for those pale and foolish enough to forget their sunscreen (I’m looking at you, Katherine) – we waited for the Blues Brothers to drive down the street in their stolen police car, with giant speaker system strapped to the roof. There’s something about that music that has a timeless quality. Now sure there has only been about fifty years, so it’s not as timeless as some of the classical stuff that I can’t stand, but it has something to it. Something that even Nirvana may not stand the test of time to. It’s – pleasing to listen to. What else would you expect from those on a mission from God?

I wish I’d seen the movie. The second one was filmed only a few miles from my house – and yet, I’d never managed to check them out. It’s just one of the many things I need to watch when I finally get back to the quote unquote real world.

When the brothers took back to the streets, we headed to Beetlejuice’s graveyard review. Here the songs had been updated from when I last watched the performance. I’m not going to lie, I thought they may have just kept it terribly out of day. But no, they stepped up their game, and watching the black and white striped creature in action, I realized just how underused a character he is.

Sure he had his one movie (which once terrified me, with the dancing corpses in wedding dresses) and a children’s cartoon – but there is so much more potential for this character. The review showed the crude sexual-innuendo filled “BJ” that was lost to the Sunday morning special. Now would be a perfect time for a relaunch. Though created decades past, he is as relevant today as he was then. If not more so.

Wandering back through the San Francisco area, I realized that so many people here would never see San Fran. Then it hit me how many of the recreations I’d walked through in real life. And once more it hit me just how great it is to travel. And then I felt like a jerk. I’ve been removed from large travel, situated in one country making small jogs each day. Still – there is so much to be said for that, it’s just as interesting as world travel. In fact, spending just one day in a city, and bugging out really forces you to make the most of it, rather than hanging out slowly going mad. There are things lost in this as well.

I remembered that travel within one country is just as amazing as travel through many. Although this will not stop me from brining up references to other places that I know Katherine has not seen, ending the line with, “ahh, you really must go.”

Be thankful, folks back home, me doing this now is getting it out of my system so that none other than Kath need deal with this travel jerk. I’ll try hard – really hard – to never start a sentence with “When I was in…” or “Have you been to…” And on the plus side, so you don’t feel bad for her, Katherine is developing her own stock pile of “When I was…”

Next up, the Disaster ride was fixed. Yesterday it had been a downed piece of electronics, but now? Now it was ready to go. And I was ready to ride the movie. Years ago there had been a part of this which showed how sound effects were used. This was Murder She Wrote themed. The shout out to Murder She Wrote is no longer a staple in this park, although you can still find it hidden in the Terminator show.

Video clips were filmed by people chosen from the crowd, and when we rode along in our subway car, watching things explode all around us, we watched a video that combined all those clips to form a complete video, featuring The Rock, produced by he who will live on in infamy as needing more cow bell. Christopher Walkin, no matter what you do, that is how you will be recalled. A perfect epitaph.

With time running short, and TNA wrestling tickets to pick up, we had to skip the live Fear Factor performance. This was more than a little upsetting, as I wanted to see people eat bugs, or eat them myself. But no – we were called back to the terrifying red roller coaster, the Rip Ride Rockit. We grabbed TNA tickets, and then got in line. While it claimed to be half an hour, it was really only a fifteen minute wait. On board, all belongings would be thrown from pockets. This is why we stashed our gear in the lockers provided.

All except one small item, forgotten in my shirt pocket. The little two dollar clock I picked up in Cambodia, replacing my broken GPS unit as my time piece. This clock was later busted in Japan, and fixed with Duct Tape, brought back to life. But now, as I rocketed upside down, to the lyrics of his holiness, Mr. K. West sampling the best parts of Better Faster Stronger, the time piece was flung from my breast pocket. After the ride you can buy a video of the experience. You can also watch the moment. There it was, replayed over and over, the watch leaving my pocket, and me feeling for it, mourning the loss.

Still – it needed a proper send off, and now for the moment I am free from my obsession with time. Free – free – Katherine what time is it? Katherine what time is it? Katherine what time is it?! Well – I’m getting free. All addictions are hard to kick.

With Wrestling tickets we headed back through the park, riding the E.T. ride again, as there was no line. Mostly I just wanted a picture of his speak and spell telephone, because the ride? It was no better a day later. Good Bye KatherineMikeSamScottyLauraJennifer.

Then to the Hollywood Make Up show where a very creepy host showed trick knives, and how fake blood can be used. During the show they picked a female volunteer. They always do. It’s because the women are far more terrified, and worried about what will happen. In this case they choose a Japanese woman who spoke hardly any English.

Was it slightly racist that the performers switched their Ls and Rs when talking with her? Sure – but we established that that was already a part of these parks during the Harry Potter experience. But – was it hilarious when this woman was so freaked out by the fake arms, and the fake blood, and the fake knife cutting her arm that she tried to run off stage time and time again? Yes. Yes it was.

“Best volunteer ever.” And I believe that they meant it. Rare to get someone so in character for a thing like this. You have to imagine most people that come to a show like this would expect to see odd sights.

And the host? With lines like, “I’m not allowed to talk to children any more,” and, “This isn’t the Magic Kingdom – I don’t need to be nice to you!” he was fantastic, as was his straight-woman.

Last up? The Animal Show. I suggested this as a joke, more than anything. It would fill time, and be better than nothing. When the first dog came on stage, and Katherine’s eyes lit up – ohh! So cute! – I realized that this was probably the thing she would enjoy after all.

The dogs from MiB and Marley and Me took to the stage performing tricks. It struck me that while this was cute and fun, were these elephants it would be sad. Strange how that distinction is made. There were also birds, and orangutans, and a wee little piggy. I was hit after suggesting we eat ribs that night. Fair enough.

As I watched the animals, it struck me that when my parents took me to see this show years ago, and I watched those animals… well, they were all probably dead by now. That was not the least bit depressing. Especially when I realized one of them was Beethoven. Poor dead Beethoven.

And then off to TNA Wrestling! YAY!

TNA - Total Nonstop Action Wrestling - Day One

Sure we waited in line for an hour before we were allowed into the TNA Impact Zone, but once inside I didn't really care all that much. I'd only ever been to a live wrestling match once before at a house show. I'd never seen a live televised event before. I was worried that I wouldn't know any of the new wrestlers, as I'd not watched in over a decade, but I need not have worried all that much – the more things change...

Hulk Hogan and Mick Foley took to the stage, explaining how the times were changing, and how the torch needed to be past. Hogan was a hero of the 80s, Foley a hero of the 90s. They were going to usher in the new era of wrestling for a new decade (never mind that the decade after the 90s was already over too.)

Still – to see these two greats in person was something that reverted me back to a small child. I may have been on my feet screaming a wee bit.

Next up was a women's match. Yawn. If there's anything worse that wrestling, it's women wrestling. It looks far faker, and far more terrible then the men's. Still – it gave me time to figure out how the cameras were set up, and let me understand that while things may look random at home, one character was almost always facing the main camera. The ref was always in a similar position, and the less attractive was also with her back to the camera. The use of stage was something I'd never really thought about when it came to wrestling, and yet here it was – so obvious.

When that ended, without me caring to remember names or outcomes, Ric Flair took to the mat – Ric 'Woooo!' Flair! Once more, the child inside of me could hardly believe it. I got a picture of him Wooo-ing and that was a childhood dream come true. The Impact Zone was small, holding perhaps eight hundred people. Every picture was a good up close picture.

Next was a steel cage match between Beer Money and the Motor City machine guns. I didn't know either of these guys, but a cage match is a cage match. One of the guys got 'busted open' (I assume he used a razer on his forehead) getting blood all over the mat. The fans were wild and crazy. If you want to see America for its stereotyped best, go to wrestling. This is where the mullets take centre stage.

Next up, stepped The Freak! “Look at his body,” Katherine shouted. I am emasculated. You didn't head me saying anything when the women were doing their thing. “So sculpted!” I felt like Brad, when Rocky was first introduced into the world. Dammit Janet!

This match did not last long. And soon he was gone.

Then Mr. Anderson took to the stage. He is a new superstar – flagship of the federation from what I could gather. People with his signs were put ringside, pulled from the line. He was a mouth that could entertain, and wrestle. But he was just there and gone. Hardly taking up any time at all.

The final match was between Tommy Dreamer an Abyss (a Mankind knock off.) This ended with Tommy being screwed over by Raven (who does not look nearly as good as a wrestler these days, as he did when he was in WCW on the N64 all those years ago.) Foley came out, once more, to set things right – and that was that. Three hours of wrestling at an end.

It struck me that I kind of liked wrestling. But then I like everything live, especially when it gives me a chance to shout. With voice gone, we walked under the Universal gates, and the full moon, getting in our car for the ride back home.