Galaxies
And Disneyland
(And Microsoft Word)
Speaking of fun, I have just returned from a visit to another locus of the surreal: Orlando, FLA, the magical home of umpteen Disney theme parks. At a Disney water park called Typhoon Lagoon, one can swim in a small artificial lake in which a foghorn sounds every ninety seconds, after which an ocean-style breaking wave appears out of nowhere. Crowds of people stand about in the shallow water, all facing the deep end of the lagoon from where the waves originate. As soon as each new wave appears, the congregants all break into unison hosannas, and shake their arms in the air like lunatics. It seems to be a religious practice of some sort. In another part of the water park, you can snorkel with small sharks, if that is your thing. Presumably the wave worshipers and the shark swimmers all belong to some Florida-based religious cult.
Around the periphery of the park, there ran a half-mile circular "river" on which one could simply float along in an inner tube. Now that is a religious practice I could get used to. Before jumping into the inner tube river, my companion and I carefully noted the topography of the spot where we left our things on beach chairs. "Let's remember the landmarks," I told her. "There is a blue pole, and a little model ferryboat in the middle of wading pool just near our stuff. We can float around the river, and just remember to get off when we see the blue pole and the model ferryboat." "You're so smart," she replied. Then we walked the short distance beyond those landmarks to the river, snagged two innertubes, and set off.
As we floated along, hand in hand, I inspected the scene and made a disquieting discovery: there were blue poles and model ferryboats in wading pools every few feet along the half-mile circular route. There was no way to distinguish one of them from another. Finding our way back to our particular two beach-chairs, and our stuff, would be like searching through a carnival fun-house.
And that, children, is how your grandfather took up residence here in the Happy Valley Sanitarium and Rest Home in Orlando, FLA. It's quiet here, and I think gravity works pretty well in every corridor, including my own. They say that I am slowly getting better, and it is true that I feel a little less nervous about those model ferryboats which are out to get me. If I keep improving, the counselors tell me, I may even be allowed to join some of the other inmates in a visit to a Disney water park in the neighborhood. I told them, if it was all the same with them, I'd rather just stay here in my nice, safe room, with its good gravity. And I would feel even safer if they would be good enough to give me a second strait-jacket to wear.