In what I hope is my first of many weekend excursions around the state of Florida, I spent a couple days in Orlando this weekend with my high school buddy Mike. We don't get to see each other as often as we'd like since I went to State, but he just moved to Orlando to start school in the fall, so we jumped at this opportunity.
He had a couple tickets to DisneyWorld left over from a family vacation, so we spent Saturday at Disney's MGM studios. But before we got there, we had a minor setback. With suntan lotion and full wallets in hand, we left Mike's apartment only to find that the Silver Bullet had vanished. I thought someone must have stollen my magnificent machine, but then Mike suggested it was probably towed. I guess that made sense. We went to the leasing office, and Mike's guess was right. It would be $110 to get it out, plus cab fare since Mike has no vehicle besides a 10-speeder mountain bike.
In the cab ride there, the driver was being a punk. I asked him how much it would be and he told me around $18. The place was only 5 miles away! So anyway, I complained a little bit about how in DC it was so much cheaper (probably sounded arrogant) and he said to me, "Well, life isn't cheap." After spending $130 in a half hour for nothing, I know that. Jackass.
But we got the car, drove to MGM and had a great time. It was Star Wars weekend, and a lot of people were dressed up and walking around. Chewbacca was available for pictures. Jedis were fighting in the streets. It was a good time. But even more excellent was the Muppets in 3-D show, which featured Sam the Eagle in a quite prominent role. At first, I figured the 3-D would be pretty lame, but it was actually amazing.
At a Checker's restaurant (like Rally's), Mike and I also saw an add for a Swamp Safari in the Everglades. From what I could tell, it was run by Seminole Indians and it didn't look too touristy. It's about an hour and a half from WPB, so I think I may check it out. You can spend the night there in these straw and palm huts for pretty cheap and take a night-time tour of the Everglades in a swamp buggie! There ain't nothing wrong with that!
Monday, June 27, 2005
Thursday, June 23, 2005
bah humdinger
"I used to like Christmas, but it just got too religious."
--a straight-faced co-worker on why he doesn't mind working around the holidays.
--a straight-faced co-worker on why he doesn't mind working around the holidays.
It's Time to Go to Work
"Yeah, they had the Cristal ready for tonight, but we'll be the one poppin' it Thursday," Rasheed Wallace, after winning Game 6 to tie the series at 3-3.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
The Call of the Wild
... the resilience of a boy caught in nature's clutches ...
That's what was discovered within a Utah 11-year-old who spent four days in the mountains with no food or water supply; cold, dark, alone, animals that he couldn'tt see making strange noises all around him. It had to have been a terrifying episode to endure.
Officials said that when they found the boy, he hid from them at first. It was only when a volunteer offered up a granola bar did the kid snap out of it. They called it delirious, but what if it was something much more primal?
I'd like to think that the boy, after four days of no food and water, tapped into his basic, instinctual nature — de-evolving (or perhaps, evolving) into an organism better suited for survival.
I'd like to imagine the boy falling in and out of half-asleep fits where images of wolves tearing apart deer flashed between pictures of his 8th birthday party; his two sides, civilized and animalistic, caught in an epic battle.
I'd like to imagine him standing among a herd of elk just before dawn, with the mountain fog inhaling and exhaling all around him, his crimson jowls stained with the blood of a fresh kill, in total harmony with the natural world.
I have to wonder — was there some small part of him that never wanted to be found; a part that longed to remain among the dense forests, swelling rivers and rocky crags?
I wonder — what drove him to hide from those men on horseback, and for but a fleeting moment, turn away from a world made of plastic, metal and glass?
And lastly, I wonder if he'll ever feel that yearning inside of him once again, that push to return to the same dense fog that once held an animal and brought forth a boy.
That's what was discovered within a Utah 11-year-old who spent four days in the mountains with no food or water supply; cold, dark, alone, animals that he couldn'tt see making strange noises all around him. It had to have been a terrifying episode to endure.
Officials said that when they found the boy, he hid from them at first. It was only when a volunteer offered up a granola bar did the kid snap out of it. They called it delirious, but what if it was something much more primal?
I'd like to think that the boy, after four days of no food and water, tapped into his basic, instinctual nature — de-evolving (or perhaps, evolving) into an organism better suited for survival.
I'd like to imagine the boy falling in and out of half-asleep fits where images of wolves tearing apart deer flashed between pictures of his 8th birthday party; his two sides, civilized and animalistic, caught in an epic battle.
I'd like to imagine him standing among a herd of elk just before dawn, with the mountain fog inhaling and exhaling all around him, his crimson jowls stained with the blood of a fresh kill, in total harmony with the natural world.
I have to wonder — was there some small part of him that never wanted to be found; a part that longed to remain among the dense forests, swelling rivers and rocky crags?
I wonder — what drove him to hide from those men on horseback, and for but a fleeting moment, turn away from a world made of plastic, metal and glass?
And lastly, I wonder if he'll ever feel that yearning inside of him once again, that push to return to the same dense fog that once held an animal and brought forth a boy.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Summer breeze, makes me feel fine
As I type, a massive beast of an American bulldog named Lucy slumbers at my side. In my first two weeks at the Palm Beach Post, I earned enough trust to dog-sit for a sports reporter for the entire weekend. It's a decent gig: pool in the yard with a dophin fountain that shoots water out of its... you know... mouth, cable, Internet, handfulls of honey-roasted peanuts I keep stealing out of her cupboard and, when I'm done, 80 bones (get it? HA!)
The bad part is that I'm allergic to dogs. I thought, "hey, I like dogs. Maybe I'm not allergic to them anymore. Maybe I can fight through its tangled web of shedded fur, and just "get over" this allergy" Well, I was wrong and I've been sneezing the whole time. It really seemed like a good idea at the time. But the pooch is pretty nice and it doesn't bark too much. It smells a little funny, but I need to get used to that before I move in with Dirk (ZING!).
So for the last two days, Lucy and I have spent a couple hours at the dog park. We've layed around the pool and watched the dolphin do its work. We've played poker in our underpants. AND, we've both slept a ton. Just yesterday I was looking up movie times on the Internet and she mosied on over and rested her head on my lap. The touching sight brought a tear to my eye, but soon I realized the tears were a result of my allergies.
In the few instances I've been able to step away from dog-sitting this weekend, I've enjoyed some of Palm Beach's fine luxuries. I went to the beach Friday morning and got a wicked sunburn, but it was worth it to bask in the sweet sunshine and dive down between the Atlantic's rolling waves. I was so inspired that I bought full snorkeling gear the next afternoon (an adventure for another time). Last night, I went with a couple of young reporters to a house party that a photographer was throwing. After that, they took to me O'Sheas, a pub in downtown WPB that is to the Palm Beach Post what the Peanut Barrel is to The State News. We sipped fine Irish lagers beneath a canopy of stringed lights on the bar's back patio. They told me of some great spots to try my new snorkeling gear. I got a bit drunk and had a great night.
On the way home, I stopped by the bay to say goodnight to Manny the Manatee. He was feasting on a bed of lush green seagrass with a comely female manatee. He shouted "Ahoy, young Jordan" and sent over a wave with his blubbery flipper. I didn't want to intrude, so I wished them both a good night and returned to the apartment where the dog slept.
The bad part is that I'm allergic to dogs. I thought, "hey, I like dogs. Maybe I'm not allergic to them anymore. Maybe I can fight through its tangled web of shedded fur, and just "get over" this allergy" Well, I was wrong and I've been sneezing the whole time. It really seemed like a good idea at the time. But the pooch is pretty nice and it doesn't bark too much. It smells a little funny, but I need to get used to that before I move in with Dirk (ZING!).
So for the last two days, Lucy and I have spent a couple hours at the dog park. We've layed around the pool and watched the dolphin do its work. We've played poker in our underpants. AND, we've both slept a ton. Just yesterday I was looking up movie times on the Internet and she mosied on over and rested her head on my lap. The touching sight brought a tear to my eye, but soon I realized the tears were a result of my allergies.
In the few instances I've been able to step away from dog-sitting this weekend, I've enjoyed some of Palm Beach's fine luxuries. I went to the beach Friday morning and got a wicked sunburn, but it was worth it to bask in the sweet sunshine and dive down between the Atlantic's rolling waves. I was so inspired that I bought full snorkeling gear the next afternoon (an adventure for another time). Last night, I went with a couple of young reporters to a house party that a photographer was throwing. After that, they took to me O'Sheas, a pub in downtown WPB that is to the Palm Beach Post what the Peanut Barrel is to The State News. We sipped fine Irish lagers beneath a canopy of stringed lights on the bar's back patio. They told me of some great spots to try my new snorkeling gear. I got a bit drunk and had a great night.
On the way home, I stopped by the bay to say goodnight to Manny the Manatee. He was feasting on a bed of lush green seagrass with a comely female manatee. He shouted "Ahoy, young Jordan" and sent over a wave with his blubbery flipper. I didn't want to intrude, so I wished them both a good night and returned to the apartment where the dog slept.
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