Variations on a Theme Park
by ABRAHAM GANS
The panic on my face must have been visible and admittedly quite amusing. All I did was take a casual glance at the complimentary map I received along with the GMC Savana at the Orlando rental place. There on the map, laid out in all their terrifying glory in bulging 3-D, lay the terrifying locations. I stood rooted to the spot until the relentless yelps, taunts and admonitions from my posse brought me back to earth with a start. Yes, my wife Tracy was there somewhere in the scene, but somehow her ability to calm my fears and take the panic out of most situations was rendered useless in the face of the Orlando odds. It was a scene straight from a horror movie �C 100 theme parks, five fearsome children, one man.
How I had arrived in Central Florida in this frightening predicament was beyond me. There were vague memories of ceaseless pleading, begging and threats, but nothing that could quite explain this. Man that I am, I took a deep breath and handed Tracy the keys. ��You drive,�� I said, ��I��ll navigate the minefields.��
We arrived at our Orlando hotel relatively unscathed with the seats in the GMC Savana looking a little less new, but with all the onboard electronics mercifully intact. After a theme-ridden meal that was questionably happy, Tracy spent a couple of hours cajoling the short people to comply with agreed-upon bedtimes while I sat at the general��s table and laid out a battle strategy for the next few days that would not stretch my supply lines too thin and bring about the total collapse of my meager army. Using a box of wax crayons looted on the flight into Orlando and a multitude of toothpick flags pillaged from our dinner, I drew up a plan.
The next morning we climbed into the Savana and headed bravely into the raging fire the Orlando locals have the audacity to classify as climate. My first move was loosely inspired by Count Otto Von Bismarck��s Scorched Earth Policy, and involved facing my fears and taking on one of the most fearsome parks first �C Disneyworld! Miracles do happen; I got off lightly with second degree sunburn, a particularly bad case of hat hair, and only two months salary spent on character-inspired bric-a-brac that would hopefully bring a return of one cent on the dollar in a forthcoming yard sale. Thankfully my soldiers were so fatigued, that when we got back to the hotel, they passed out before you could say ��an alligator ate my paycheck.��
Of course, it didn��t end there. Day three of the campaign, I decided to throw the enemy off our scent by engaging in unexpected maneuvers in the Savana in the non-themed Orlando theater of operations. We first counted manatees at Springs State Park and then watched a live rocket launch at Cape Canaveral. I then completely turned the tables on everyone and fine tuned my golf swing while my troops resumed fitness training in the hotel pool under the watchful eye of Sergeant Tracy.
The next few days were a blur, with heavy battles fought at Universal Studios, Islands of Adventure, Sea World, and various other locales. Fortunately, aside from a few treatable cases of Post Orlando Traumatic Stress Syndrome, we made it out of Central Florida in one piece to the relative safety of Detroit, Michigan.
Author Bio: Abraham Gans is a fearless human resources generalist who mans the trenches at a large company in Detroit. On occasion, he has been known to contribute travel-related essays to online travel sites. He doesn��t like to talk about it, but Mr. Gans has a pathological fear of mice. For more information on the GMC Savana, visit centralfloridagmc.com.
