Sunday, November 16, 2008

The Florida Revue (or, Stuff We Did in the Sunshine State)

Lest you think we spent our whole vacation lying prostrate by the pool (and yes, I did triple check to make sure I spelled that word right, thank you for asking), here is a brief overview of what else we did. (Also helpful for reminding me that vacation was not, indeed, 18 months ago, as it now seems.)

Among other things, we visited an open-air flea market. Steven found the cassette tapes.

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And I found Richard Scarry!

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Oh my gosh, I loved this book so much as a kid. Adored it. In fact, I think there is an embarrassing video of me somewhere, hamming it up to the camera with this book as my prop. Born for the big lights, I tell you.

I also found some old knitting needles. Prettier to photograph than they were in person (rather bent and tired-looking in real life).

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On a different afternoon, Steven and I hit up Old Town Kissimmee.

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We walked around and looked at the shops, and found a sign that was surprisingly accurate.

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True, indeed. The whole amusement park was rather sad that day. There were a couple families milling around, but it was mostly just us and a bunch of crazy people. (Doesn't say much for us, I am aware. Stop laughing.) The stores were full of either tourist-trappings or really really odd items like throwing stars and sculptures of dragons.

However (if throwing stars and dragon sculptures are not disturbing enough for you), we did find one attraction that was really disturbing. Its difficult to see in the picture, but behind those bars is a dummy sitting in an electric chair with a burlap sack over his head. And yes, the sign says Only A Dollar To Make Him Holler. When we walked by, the voiceover for the dummy was saying in this awful gutteral voice, "Nooo, don't do it. You can't kill me, ha ha ha."

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Something very wrong with our society where this is paid entertainment. (I was curious to see what happened, exactly, when one fed this horrid machine a dollar, but I was too afraid that the burlap sack over his head would come flying off and his eyes would pop out in some awful, gory fashion and I'd have nightmares for weeks. If anyone knows what really happens, do tell.)

Around the corner from Old Town was another carnival called Fun Spot USA. They had one of those slingshot things that hauls you up in the air, attached only to a thin wire, and then drops you 300 some odd feet.

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Given that I'd just eaten a whole bag of sour JellyBelly jellybeans, Steven and I opted out of a 300 foot drop.

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The rules made me laugh though.

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Look a little closer, and you'll see why I was disqualified.

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My mental problems caused doubt. (I would call it rational fear, but hey, whatever you Skycoaster people want to label it.)

We also happened to notice that Fun Spot USA must be doing so well that they decided to sell their roller coaster equipment, piece by piece. If you've got an extra $1,500, this portion of the Speedway Racetrack can be yours.

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After our adventures in Old Town and a quick lap around Fun Spot, Steven had quite enough.

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I think this sign summed it up nicely.

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I couldn't say, Kissimmee. I just couldn't even say.

(P.S. Word Count: 25,034.)

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