Tragic Kingdom

Suicidal Drivers, Devil Worship and Food Poisoning at the Happiest Place on Earth.

 

  Pirate Press             May 2023  

Celebrating 33 Years In Publication

For better or worse, 2023 was the fourth and final year Victoria would attend UDA's National Dance Competition at Disney World. It also meant it was our last time with her as a high-school student which, quite frankly, was heart-breaking. However, she didn't share the same sentimentality, as over the five days we were there we barely saw her outside her two dance routines at ESPN's Wide World of Sports arena. Not coincidentally, the other times we saw her was when she wanted food, money, or both. Otherwise, she was with her coach and teammates living her best life ordering (among other things) a $40 Filet Mignon at Chef de France, a $65 buffet at The Crystal Palace and gigantic 31-ounce (Trenta) Starbucks drinks, all of which she happily charged to my account.

 

But, the week before as we were preparing to go to Disney, Amanda noticed a rattling and lack of cooling from the Santa Fe's air conditioner. A quick diagnosis revealed that two of the coolant hoses had mysteriously ruptured and would require replacement. But that wasn't the bad news; No, the bad news was that to replace the hoses and recharge the system was going to cost $900. And the worst news was that due to the global supply-chain shortage, the parts were back-ordered. 

 

Having last driven my green Saturn SC2 for two summers without air-conditioning, I was fully prepared for the trip to Disney sans A/C, but my daughter and wife (obviously) felt otherwise. Victoria cheerfully volunteered her new car, but being a sport compact it was short on luggage space and I didn't want to put the 1,200 miles of wear-and-tear on it. I just recently paid for her Forte's first oil change at the dealer and it was a $100 affair. Excluding the Ferrari, it's the most I've ever paid for an oil change, but is mandatory given Kia's new policy that synthetic oil must be used to maintain the factory warranty. Sadly, it's a shameless cash grab by the manufacturer, but unfortunately there's little resistance to be had from us if we want to keep the automotive coverage intact.

 

That left the Fusion as our sole means of transportation to Orlando. Naturally, I was fine with it, but warned Amanda and Victoria that they were essentially trading luggage space for air-conditioning. At 16.5 cubic feet, the Fusion's overall trunk volume actually matches that of some full-size BMW and Mercedes sedans, but a factory amp and deep rear speakers create a very low ceiling. Hence, there would be no piling of suitcases on top of each other, as is our preferred method in the spacious Santa Fe. Instead, I cautioned Victoria that some luggage might have to ride beside her in the back seat. Fortunately, after some creative Tetris-style stacking at 4 a.m., I managed to squeeze everything in the trunk right before we left.

 

Shortly thereafter, we departed in a convoy with five other vehicles behind us. One of the dance moms, whom I'll call Trixie, had quite the heavy foot reputation and openly bragged about it prior to leaving. Not one to publicly boast about my driving mastery, I privately told Amanda that we'd soon find out just how skillful Trixie really was. 

 

All agreed, a 555-mile trip to Lake Buena Vista is a marathon slog, not a quick sprint, entangled by three massively busy interchanges— Interstate 10, Interstate 75 and Florida's infamous Turnpike. So it was going to take patience, persistence, endurance (and a little bit of luck) to maintain the quickest pace over that enormous distance which would admittedly be complicated by compulsory stops for food, fuel and, of course, bathroom breaks.

 

Given the early hour, it was still dark, rainy and foggy, a terrible trifecta when you have a 7+ hour haul ahead of you and five bloodthirsty constituents behind you, each eager for the infamy and bragging rights of being the leader. 

However, while they were all piloting heavy, ponderous SUVs, the Fusion was a Formula One car in comparison— light, agile and quick. Some of the thirsty V8s may have made slightly more power on paper, but there was no denying that the Fusion had the best overall power-to-weight ratio. It also averaged 25 mpg, an impressive feat given that the speedometer rarely fell below 85 mph and the parasitic A/C ran for the duration of the trip. Incidentally, the EPA Highway rating for the 2.5-liter 4 cylinder Fusion is only 29 mpg, so I was fine sacrificing 4 mpg for an extra 90 horsepower!

 

 

Observing the Navy Seal's mantra of "Slow is Smooth, Smooth is Fast" I drove with surgeon-like precision and gradually saw their headlights diminish behind me. Our first stop was the new Buc-ee's travel center in Robertsdale, Alabama, just a stone's throw from the Florida state line. Not only were we the first to arrive, but we were one of the first customers in the whole parking lot. While Buc-ee's is insanely popular during the summer months and on holidays, apparently it's not so busy on a random February morning at 6 a.m. 

 

About 10 minutes later, the rest of our caravan pulled in and the banter quickly switched to the fast getaway I made with rhetorical jokes of "Where's Chip?" and responses of "He's already made it to Disney!" I modestly laughed but it was clear that a new pecking order had been established. Likewise, I was determined to maintain that pole position, so we were also the first to leave for our next destination— Tallahassee, which was 3 long hours away.

 

Unfortunately, I was accompanied by three dashboard alerts that served no other purpose than to annoy me for the lengthy trip. I've long maintained that today's sophisticated cars are burdened with a lot of useless sensors, and with the Fusion being the most modern I've owned, it's clearly the worst. It started with a "Tire Pressure Sensor Fault" that at first glance alarmed me because I thought a tire was going flat, something that would immediately cannibalize our precious lead. But thankfully, it turned out to be a problem with the actual sensor and not the tire itself. However, the Fusion's Tire Pressure Monitoring System is perhaps the most useless in existence since it only informs of a problem if the air pressure drops below 25 percent of the recommended PSI. In other words, it knows the amount of air in each tire, but there's no way to access that information for preventive maintenance; I still have to periodically check it. 

 

The other two equipment warnings, a "Cross Traffic System Fault" and a "Check Rear Park Aid" were both traced to—Believe It or Not!— a blown speaker. Yes, I've heard of some stupid causes for equipment malfunctions but this one definitely takes the cake! 

 

As mentioned earlier, the Fusion is my first car to be encumbered by a phalanx of safety features that would make Ralph Nader proud. And apparently they're all tied to a tiny speaker the size of a quarter under the rear shelf in the trunk. Well, for whatever reason, this speaker died and the system freaked out because it couldn't issue any audible alerts when the car is in reverse or a vehicle is in my blind spot. So, like a nagging Jewish Mother it reminded me every few seconds that those two devices weren't working by broadcasting a different, yet still aggravating chime. 

 

 

 

After our trip, I changed the part myself and was stunned at what the procedure costs at the Ford stealership. One Fusion owner paid $150 for the part and $500 labor to install it. As you can see above, the OEM part was $15 off Amazon and it literally took me five minutes to replace it. However, I've read horror stories about replacing the speaker in the Hybrid model due to the EV battery being stored in the same area. Thankfully, I avoided both the Fusion Hybrid and All-Wheel-Drive Sport version due to the added weight and complexity, and it sure has saved me a lot of money and headaches.     

 

When Amanda and Victoria volunteered me to drive the Fusion, I was initially excited because it meant the 15-hour round trip would be covered under the watchful eye of my Escort radar detector. However, this elation was short-lived as Amanda became increasingly annoyed by the constant K-Band false alarms generated by the blind spot monitoring systems on other vehicles. Typically, it's not a big deal for me as I rarely come across them on my daily, rural commute. But in more prosperous areas with a preponderance of new cars like we encountered, there was almost always some vehicle triggering it. In fact, it got so bad that I just eventually shut it off as it was virtually useless. So, for the remainder of the trip going down and back, I had to depend solely on Waze to warn me where the radar traps were.

 

And as we made it to the Florida Turnpike, I began to see the Toll Booths I despise so much. Granted, taking the Turnpike shaves nearly an hour off our trip but I still resent having to pay for a highway system that was originally free when it was built in 1957. Perhaps taking lessons from Disney on how to monetize everything, the Florida legislature passed a bill in 1990 allowing revenue to be collected for the first time. $123 million was seized from motorists that year and it has grown to a staggering $956 million in 2016, the most recent financial year on record. Given the post-Covid surge in travel, I'm sure annual income has eclipsed the Billion dollar mark now, but they're still seeking more ways to boost their corporate coffers. Hence, the creation of a "Toll Plaza", their clever euphemism for literal highway robbery. Merriam-Webster defines a Plaza as "an open area usually located near urban buildings and often featuring walkways, trees and shrubs, places to sit, and sometimes shops" which Florida's Toll Plazas are clearly not. Instead, they're now completely automated and manned by dozens of closed-circuit, high-definition cameras that aside from license plate recording can be used for a variety of insidious injustices like illegal face recognition and vehicle tracking. 

 

After a 2019 trip to Dallas in which I accidentally used portions of a Toll Road, I was sent several fines in the mail totaling more than $20. Of course, it was the principle and not the insignificant monetary amount that had me so angry. After all, if I was going to illegally use a Toll Road I would driven it for the entire distance, not just a couple miles. But disputing it was a dead end, so I began researching the best ways to foil Toll cameras when traveling. I considered using a car dealership temporary tag or a fancy license plate cover that obscures it from certain angles but both of those could land me in legal hot water if I was pulled over. The best suggestion came from a member on the Ferrari forum who suggested simply mounting a bike rack. I admitted that it was a good idea but pointed out that it would take years of Tolls before I'd ever break even after buying a brand new bike rack. And while I was irate and vindictive, I simply wasn't that patient. Ironically, the perfect solution was provided by the same organization which seeks to enforce those nasty tolls: The Highway Patrol. That's right, when Amanda and I renewed our drivers licenses in 2020, they no longer allowed us to list our post office box and instead insisted we use our physical address. It was fine by me, and since we have no mail box at our house, all correspondence with that address gets rejected and returned to the sender. For that reason, we haven't gotten a single Toll charge in three years despite going through multiple ones each time we visit Disney or anywhere else. In short, if the citation can't be delivered, we legally can't be held liable for it!         

But, after completing 7 hours of intense driving (and proudly still maintaining first place) an incident occurred just a few miles from our destination that I doubt any of us will ever forget. I always feel like once we finally get off the terrible Turnpike that the worst is behind us, but this time I was clearly premature in that assumption. We were on State Road 536 and traffic was fairly heavy. I was in the left lane, giving cursory glances to the vehicles behind me when I noticed the red Civic. The crimson paint was striking and stood out in a sea of otherwise bland sedans and minivans. And like me, it seemed to be ensnared in the congestion. As a vehicle pulled alongside, I noticed the Civic draw right up to my rear bumper in an effort to prevent them from squeezing in between us. Clearly, the young, female driver was very impatient and getting more and more agitated and frustrated by the slow pace of the traffic. And after driving 500 miles that day, I was too, but realized there was nothing I could do about it. Yet thirty seconds later, the Civic suddenly bolted out from behind me and flew into the other lane. As it raced by, I noticed it was a garden-variety, 10th-gen model, mostly likely built in 2015 or 2016. I briefly wondered where she was going, as there was a car directly in front of me and one in her lane also.

 

Without warning, she violently swerved over, attempting to fit her 12-foot car into a six-foot space. I literally had to stomp on the brakes to prevent her from slamming into us. And even then, I still don't know how her rear bumper didn't hit my front fender. In the intervening time since that incident, I've replayed her action hundreds of times in my head and still cannot rationalize her motive. She knew there wasn't enough room, but was so hell-bent on getting one car-length ahead that she willfully jeopardized the lives of me, my wife and my daughter. I laid on the horn for a good 10-15 seconds as it was all I could do to relay my anger and disbelief at what she had just done. Traffic parted in front of her and she attempted to flee, but I flat-footed the throttle and reeled her anemic 143hp Honda right back in. I continued to blast the horn and flash my high beams, just inches from her back bumper at speeds up to 90mph, zigzagging in and out of traffic. Eventually, I was able to swing alongside at which point I flipped her off multiple times and cursed her at the top of my lungs. Quite frankly, she's lucky she didn't stop as I wanted to physically beat some sense into her. Incidents like that, I reminded Amanda, are why I don't carry a firearm because I'd be too tempted to use it.

After that frightening episode, Amanda and Victoria were visibly shaken so I lightened the mood by stating that thanks to the kamikaze bitch, we made it the last few miles to Disney even faster than ever before! This broke the ice, and gave Victoria an opportunity to throw in her own little insult: She commented that the girl's stupidity didn't surprise her since she was a "Swifty" (i.e. a Taylor Swift fan) a detail I completely missed during the whole altercation. Not surprisingly, a couple weeks later I read an article about the most dangerous states to travel, and Florida was ranked third in the nation, right behind California and Texas. It stated that the Sunshine State experienced 2,762 traffic fatalities in the first nine months of 2022, and authorities cited "impatient and aggressive drivers" as the primary cause. 

 

Disney's new "Inclusive Employee Policy" also allows for some *colorful* characters that poor Walt would never have imagined in even his most terrifying nightmares, and I don't mean the ones that dress up and pose for photos with the kids. No, this individual was standing outside the Beach Club resort when we were trying to find our way to the Cape May Cafe. We were running late for our reservation, so I decided to ask this employee for directions. Of course, it was dark and from behind it looked like a tall woman in a sailor's dress with long blonde hair. But as it turned around, there was no mistaking that it was a man with a very deep voice. I've literally never been that shocked in my life and, as a result, was completely speechless. In fact, my brain was so bamboozled by this unexpected visage that I temporarily couldn't form thoughts or words. Fortunately, Amanda stepped in and asked for directions while I was completely flabbergasted. I stammered a "thank you" as we were walking off because the employee had been so nice, but I had not been prepared to see something so different than what I anticipated. Let's just say he wasn't Jessica Rabbit!           

        

After dinner, Amanda and I made our way to Disney Springs to check out the activities since it's absolutely spectacular at night. While walking down by The Landing, she suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me with her into a line of around 50 people. I asked what she was doing and she promptly informed me that the wait for this place was normally EIGHT hours, but that she just heard it was down to 45 minutes! She explained that it was a world-famous bakery named Gideon's and their specialty was hand-made cookies that weigh almost a half-pound! 

 

From the outside, it was a rather unassuming brick building but it's what was on the inside that shocked me. In our 2021 visit to Disney, I expressed my frustration and anger over attractions like "Splash Mountain" being cancelled because of perceived racist overtones.  So, I was appalled to discover the satanic imagery present. Perhaps I'm overreacting, but portraits of vampire children with blood dripping from their fangs and a demonic goat figure seems hardly appropriate for a bakery! Granted, they were crafted in a very non-threatening, cartoon style, but it's still disturbing nonetheless. And why is no one offended by it? I'm not a conspiracy nut, but it's almost as if there's a dark cabal controlling the media and entertainment industry. From Meghan Thee Stallion's, "Sweetest Pie" to Sam's Smith's "Unholy" Grammy performance, there's certainly seems to be a lot of recent satanic glorification. This also comes on the heels of Panera Bread's recent announcement to begin using palm-scanning technology to order and pay for meals. So, does that mean the Mark of the Beast is coming or is it already here?

 

 Are these demonic images really necessary to sell cookies?

 

The next morning, we arose at 5 a.m. just so we could make "Rope Drop" at Epcot. Typically, having to awaken that early on vacation is a cardinal sin, but was necessary so we could try Disney's newest ride, "Guardians of the Galaxy: Cosmic Rewind." For the initiated, "Rope Drop" means getting to the park before it opens and waiting in line behind the entrance rope until it is released and everyone can flood in. It's a Pro Move for sure, as only the most hardcore patrons have the necessary discipline to pull it off. The only other time we've actually made Rope Drop was at Hollywood Studios in 2020 to be some of the first to ride "Rise of Resistance."

 

"Guardians" just opened at the end of May last year, so we missed it when we went in January. Understandably, as the first Marvel ride at Disney World, the first roller coaster at Epcot, and with a projected cost of $500 million, it's a huge deal— both literally and figuratively. 

 

But more so than any other thrill ride, it is making people violently sick. We spoke to two friends who went last Summer and both confirmed that it made them ill. And these are longtime Disney vets who have ridden all the big coasters like Expedition Everest and Space Mountain. 

 

However, what seems to be the catalyst is that it's Disney's first backwards-launched roller coaster and that the seats spin a full 360-degrees while the participants are experiencing steep climbs and sudden drops at up to 60 mph. If that sounds like a recipe for a Vomit Comet, it certainly is and cast members even hand out barf bags prior to boarding. 

 

But before we could be guinea pigs for nearly 3 G-Forces of gravitational punishment, we needed to snag two seats. And like "Rise of the Resistance", this meant playing the Virtual Que lottery and hoping that we'd roll seven instead of snake eyes!

 

So, right before the allotted time, Amanda and I began furiously refreshing the Disney App on our phones. I was slightly quicker and got two passes for Group 26, one of the earliest reservations. Even so, the projected wait time until it was boarding was almost five hours! 

 

But, despite getting to Epcot for Rope Drop, there was still a deluge of people (all apparently with the same plan as us.) So, given our delayed spot on "Guardians", Amanda suggested we walk to France and take a spin on "Ratatouille", the new ride based on Pixar's 2007 film.  We had ridden it for the first time last year right after it had opened and it has proven immensely popular. In fact, by the time we got to the French Pavilion, I checked the App and there was already a 90 minute wait! Admittedly, we could have bypassed that with Amanda's DAS credentials, but our wait time for "Guardians" was already dropping so quickly that we decided to start making our way back. 

 

Located in Future World East, "Cosmic Rewind" is the first "Other-World" exhibit at Epcot and is in good company with "Mission Space", "Space Ship Earth" & "Test Track."

 

 

A Xandarian Starblaster ship greets visitors outside the Cosmic Rewind attraction.

Of course, there's some flimsy back story about going back in time to save the earth, but the real excitement begins when you are strapped in and the coaster shoots backward. I understand the concept of having a shuttle that spins around for a full 360-degree view, but in reality it's more jarring than enjoyable because it happens so violently and quickly. I measured 12 instances over 2G with the longest lasting 3.52 seconds and this is similar to what astronauts experience in the Space Shuttle at lift-off.

 

 

Afterwards, I told Amanda that they should rename it "Cosmic Washing Machine" because we had been flung around so much that it's what it felt like (minus the water, of course.) I knew I wouldn't get sick and thankfully Amanda didn't either, but I can certainly see how it would be too much for most people.

Enduring Cosmic Rewind's violent spin cycle!  

 

Enjoying the 80-foot drop on Expedition Everest.

Mine Train is the top ride at Magic Kingdom with wait times up to 2 hours.

We visited Magic Kingdom the following morning and everything was great until lunch. That's when we dined at Columbia Harbor House, located in Liberty Square. I love the Lobster Roll and had been looking forward to it since the restaurant closed down for Covid in early 2020 and only just recently reopened. 

 

For theme-park fare, the $17 Lobster Roll isn't too bad and I like that I can get something besides a hamburger for lunch. It was good, even if a fair bit of the lobster was the cheaper, shredded variety. But the real treat was the "Happy Haunts Milk Shake". A holdover from Halloween due to it's extreme popularity (and Haunted Mansion's close proximity) it's a Blackberry Milk Shake that's topped with a Purple Chocolate-Glazed Doughnut and covered with Black Sprinkles. Fortunately, no ghosts were harmed in the making of it and it was incredibly delicious!

 

 

About two hours later we were getting on Pirates of the Caribbean when I first started to feel strange. At first, I just thought I had some gas on my stomach, but I simply wrote it off as a result of all the theme park food. However, it returned a few minutes later but this time the malaise was much more intense and spread over my entire body. I suddenly felt so bad that I wondered if I was experiencing a heart attack, but none of the tell-tale signs of myocardia were present: my chest didn't hurt, there was no tingling in my left arm, etc. Despite that, the extreme discomfort seemed to be washing over me in waves. I tried breathing exercises, and even walking around, but it only got worse.

 

That's when Amanda noticed how pale and sweaty I was and asked if I was okay. I told her I just needed to sit down for a minute and I literally dropped to the ground. Unfortunately, I was concerned that if I said anything to a cast member, they might send me to the hospital via an ambulance rather than risk the public stigma of me dying on one of the rides. We also had dinner reservations coming up, so Amanda volunteered to stay while I went back to the hotel room. 

 

It's a grueling hike from Adventureland, down the crowded Main Street, and out to the distant bus parking when healthy, but I don't even remember how I got back to my bed at All-Star Sports. I just remember that I had massive chills and couldn't stop shaking. But despite the lethargy and fatigue, I didn't want to miss UDA's private party at Hollywood Studios later that night from 9pm-1am. It was going to be my only time to ride Aerosmith's Rock N Roller Coaster as Disney was closing it down indefinitely. Although there is no official reason for the "refurbishment" (their words, not mine) a popular fan theory is that it's because of the recent lawsuit surrounding Steven Tyler's sexual assault of a 16 year-old girl. Whatever the case may be, I certainly hope that it doesn't get re-themed like Rock N Roller Coaster did at Disneyland Paris and turned into a Marvel Avenger's ride.     

 

 

Several days later, I conveniently wanted to blame the Lobster Roll, but the emergence of two fever blisters signaled that what I had was probably viral. Likewise, Amanda saw a forum posting on a Disney Fan site whereby many people had complained of coming down with Norovirus shortly before we arrived. Regardless, with a daily attendance of 38,000 visitors from all over the world, Magic Kingdom is likely the most disease-ridden park on Earth.

 

The next morning, we packed our bags, but Victoria wouldn't let us leave Orlando until we stopped by the largest White Castle on earth. Personally, I've always felt that White Castle was the Yankee version of Krystal, similar to how Hardee's and Carl's Jr. are actually the same entity. As such, I wasn't enthused about going because: (1) My stomach was still on strike and (2) I've never cared for Krystal. 

 

However, on the drive there Victoria piqued my interest when she rattled off some useless trivia such as the little know fact that White Castle is actually America's original hamburger chain and that it's been around for over 100 years! With the ubiquity of the Golden Arches, I always thought that McDonald's was the oldest fast food establishment, but White Castle actually preceded it by more than thirty years. Furthermore, in 2014 Time Magazine even named their Original Slider as the most influential burger of all time.

 

We purposely got there around 11:00, hoping to beat the lunch rush, but it was busy anyway. And given my digestive distress, I simply ordered their 1921 burger which is an homage to their very first one. It was $1.99 and came fully dressed with caramelized onions, cheddar cheese, Roma tomatoes, lettuce and pickles. Seeing that I was expecting it to closely approximate a limp, greasy Krystal, I was pleasantly surprised— the bun was fresh, the beef patty was juicy, and the vegetables were cool and crisp. Granted, I wouldn't eat them regularly even if they were available in Mississippi, but it was nice to finally be able to try one and see what the fuss was about!   

 

  

So, maybe I shouldn't be sad that this was our last trip to Disney in the foreseeable future. After all, Disney has the absolute worst ROI (Return on Investment) of any entertainment product that I can imagine. For park admission, lodging and food, the average worked out to $1000 per day for the three of us and is five-times what our first trip with Victoria cost us in 2009! Granted, there's a handful of new rides but it's certainly not 500% better in my humble estimation.

 

And then there's the inhospitable weather, which fluctuated between scorching during the day and freezing at night. We're talking schizophrenic temperature shifts of low 50s to high 80s, which meant each day you could either choose to dress warm or cool, but not both. Combine that with the 16-hours of drive time and the relentless crowds, and I always feel like I need a vacation from that "vacation" when I get home. Until Disney is actually able to put the "Magic" back into Magic Kingdom, I don't want to come back!