Category South

I don’t know where that Skunk Ape sleeps, but I do know that he had impure relations with my wife!

January 14, 2014 Comments Off read Attractions, Florida, South, Travel, USA

One of our must-sees in Florida was the Skunk Ape Research Headquarters, so, you know, another intellectual venture for us. Based on the myriad quotes on their website, such as “I’m an American. I should be a shining example of how great this country is. But instead, the Parks Service has built all of these campgrounds around me. Their employees direct customers away from me.” [The rest of this quote is found on the Roadside America report: “…one of their employees has attempted to buy illegal weapons in Miami to kill me. And they won’t even fire the guy.”] generally make the owner sound unhinged in a fashion that made the prospect of visiting particularly enticing. Having never been to the Everglades before, I expected the Skunk Ape Research Headquarters to be decrepit shack at the end of a winding dirt road hours from civilization, the air thick with humidity and the strains of banjo music from an unseen player, the sort of place that would make you feel like you’ve stepped out of your car and into a horror film.

This is what we got instead:

I mean, it’s sort of decrepit in a touristy way but it’s off of a paved main road and there’s still cell signal, so your only legitimate source of danger are the mosquito swarms and the myriad diseases they can transmit.

Inside the corrugated metal storage container, there was a large gorilla statue, some skunk ape tchotchkes to purchase, and the same generic tourist crap you can buy from literally anywhere in Florida.

Shoved into one corner was the Skunk Ape “evidence”, which consisted of one foot cast (which was covered up with hats you can purchase), a few photographs, and a broken television. There wasn’t even anyone in the shop to answer questions, not even the, uh, eccentric owner, just a guy who was browsing the internet and clearly pissed we’d interrupted him.

It’s not that a couple of photoshopped pictures of a dude in a suit isn’t exciting, I just expected a little bit more enthusiasm for their supposed obsession. Perhaps a little more scientific rigor, something to tide over the public’s thirst for truth while visiting on weekends that aren’t on the Miss Skunk Ape Pageant. Or if you’re going to the trouble to falsify a cast, why not go a step further and fake up a fur tuft or a skull? Because right now, I’ve got about as much evidence of unicorns in my house (a non research center) as they had of skunk apes in their research facility. Plus, not to boast, I have two working televisions. In the back, they have a small animal exhibit, and I suppose the Skunk Ape stuff is just a way to lure people in and away from any of the other animal exhibits we’d seen on our way; paying for it just so we’d feel we didn’t waste the trip. Apparently I’m one to reward that sort of sheisty behavior, because pay and go back we did.

They clearly specify that the back area is “at your own risk”, and they mean it, letting you hold a baby alligator and even offering to let it bite you. The man in the back was much friendlier than the one up front, seemed knowledgeable about the animals, and generally allowed you to poke and prod things at your own risk. Mostly, we neither poked nor prodded because if anyone was to be bitten by something that could shear bone, it’d be me.

They had a number of snakes, a few snapping turtles, a large nonthreatening turtle, and a large alligator out back, but I was unexpectedly charmed by the birds. The parrot greeted me and would follow me around as I walked around his cage (though he’d always make sure to say “hello” when I wasn’t recording video.) This umbrella cockatoo in the cage I was told “loves attention but has poor impulse control, so he would also love to bite you. But you can pet him if you can get him to turn around.” I did actually risk stroking his feathers with one finger on my non-dominant hand. I’m not sure he got much out of it, but I felt immeasurably brave.

There was a second cockatoo who loved people more and apparently managed to quell his bitey impulses, because he would sit on anyone who would let him, raising one little leg in the air when he’d had enough and was ready to move on to the next person. Sometimes he would hang out on one person for a long time, and sometimes his leg would pop up almost the second he perched on someone; all we could do was respect the leg.

Overall, maybe things are a bit livelier around the Skunk Ape Research Headquarters during the Skunk Ape Festival, but otherwise I can’t recommend a visit until they get their act together. It could be a truly ace roadside attraction with a better mini museum about the history of the skunk ape and the owner’s efforts to see and capture one, and they could kick it up another notch by getting rid of the sad everyday Florida tourist crap merch and sell skunk ape plushes, cast replicas, official licensed Skunk Ape hunting gear, and for god’s sake, get a pressed penny machine in there. Either way, they need more than their sad neglected corner o’ crap to make it worth the trip. I’m not going to lie, I also hoped that we might catch a baby skunk ape that looked like a wee Chewbacca who could ride the dog around, but unless he has amazing powers of camouflage and elected to climb in our rental car of his own free will, that one didn’t happen either. That might be the biggest disappointment of all. I was going to name him Carl Skunkbutt, make him tiny outfits, and freak out everyone at the dog park. Why don’t my dreams ever come true?

Aw, he can crawl up through my toilet any day.

December 16, 2013 8 Comments read Attractions, Florida, South, Travel, USA

After all of the stress of planning a wedding and dealing with all of the bullshit that goes along with actually HAVING a wedding (expecting someone to check the goddamned schedule we painstakingly made with addresses and directions or even to have a little common sense is like expecting someone to lick used gum: unfathomable.) the last thing we wanted was to deal with international travel, even though there are so many things we want to see and do out in the great wide world. Instead, we decided to pick the most foreign of locations possible within the United States. Someplace where the absurd seems utterly normal. Someplace with a reputation for bizarre behavior. America’s weirdest state.

I’m talking, of course, about Orlando, Florida. Home to both high and low-quality theme parks, the choice seemed obvious. On our first day, we went to Gatorland. Gatorland bills itself not only as the alligator capitol of the world, but also as Orlando’s best half day attraction: not ready to compete with the big guys who offer an ENTIRE day’s worth of entertainment, Gatorland will sell you four hours of entertainment and the ability to zipline over hungry alligators like so much delicious bait. I had hoped that the operators would equip you with a blowdart to shoot at the most delicious-looking gator, which you could then have cooked to your specifications at the restaurant at the end of the series of ziplines, but apparently they don’t have anyone working there with my idea power.

Ultimately, we decided to omit ziplining and make the most of the time we had available. Upon entering the park, there are several pits filled with young alligators, the obligatory pressed penny machine, and a number of snack bars, one of which serves fried gator nuggets. They say they don’t use their own gators, but I’m not entirely certain I believe that. Why go to the store to buy milk when you have entire pits of it at home? Since we arrived midday, we didn’t have much time to spend looking around if we wanted to make the last gator wrestling show of the day, so we headed there first. The gator wrestling show was billed as being done in “Florida cracker style” and to this day, I cannot tell you what exactly that might be. An internet search tells me that it might have something to do with turn of the century homes. You tell me!

After the show, we were given the opportunity to sit on the back of an already-humiliated alligator, and there’s very little I enjoy more than photo opportunities AND teasing apex predators, so this was a dream come true. Someday, I will be savaged by a wild animal, and I will completely and utterly deserve it.

After the gator wrestling show, we had some free time to wander the park before the gator jumparoo show. In addition to american alligators, they also have crocodiles from around the world and a variety of other reptiles, including turtles and snakes, and the occasional non-reptile, like blonde raccoons and owls.

^{Sorry Mr. Cottonmouth, you are not quite as skilled as Waldo.}

^{You know, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but I couldn’t help but notice that these crocodiles are famed for being able to jump six feet, and yet their enclosure is less than six feet high. Plus, when they look at you, it’s like they’re calculating your body fat percentage to determine how tasty you might be. I didn’t linger by this pen, is what I’m saying.}

Another special interactive feature of Gatorland is the ability to feed these majestic creatures one of their natural staple foods: turkey hot dogs. The woman who sold us our packets told us we could feed any gator in the park that wasn’t behind glass. When I expressed my desire to feed the dog-eating gator, she repeated slowly and loudly, “ANY GATOR THAT IS NOT BEHIND GLASS” and drily added “Besides, all of them would eat dogs if they got half a chance. My neighbor found one in her pool eating her poodle.” I made a mental note to check the hotel pool before leaping in, and claimed my packet of hot dogs. If there’s anything better than throwing a tube of encased meat at a cluster of hungry reptiles and having them swarm to get at it, please tell me about it immediately.

These flocks of jerkass birds hang around, and will not only steal food from your hands, but will also snatch it away from a chomping gator, which is a sort of boldness I don’t understand. Are the gators too lazy to teach these bastards a lesson? Are the birds not tasty? Or would they fight harder over all beef kosher dogs, or perhaps the clearly enticing but also taboo dog dog? To close our half-day at Gatorland, we attended the Gator Jumparoo Show, which isn’t as impressive as a jumping show at say, Seaworld, but is vastly more dangerous, so it does have that going for it. The grand finale is set to Van Halen’s “Jump,” and I’m not certain whether it’s to inspire the gators to do their best or to whip them into a frothing rage as they can’t handle listening to that synth intro even once more. There’s definitely a monstrously large gator at 12:34 who has decided he’s had enough of being teased with chicken.

All in all, it was indeed a solid half day of entertainment: we fed gators, teased them, sat astride them, held one, tickled its tummy, threatened birds, pressed a penny, and wore a number of amusing gift shop hats. And the trip was just beginning!

OMG TEH DRAGONS ARE EVERYWHERE OMG

September 5, 2006 62 Comments read Georgia, South, Travel, USA

Even though I’ve been talking about it for months, when my plane finally landed in Atlanta, I had a hard time believing I was actually there. The absolute newness of it all was exhilarating, and when the booze wasn’t present, meeting my friends in person for the first time was intoxicating. It became all too real, however, when I called BOTH Hilton hotels in Atlanta, and neither one of them claimed to have a reservation in demonlet‘s name. If some undue stress and worry doesn’t occur, obviously it’s a trip happening to some person other than me. A subway ride and a few phone calls later, I found myself at the check-in counter of the correct Hilton, at which the smiling employee claimed to be perfectly happy to check me in, for the sum of (raises pinky)…one MILLION DOLLARS. I could almost FEEL Paris hovering over a rack of diamond-studded panties as said smiling employee eagerly reached out for my card. Not having a limit of anywhere NEAR what they wanted from me, I decided to wait until demonlet arrived until I checked in. Paris was mildly disappointed until she remembered that she doesn’t wear underwear, anyway.

While I waited for demonlet to arrive, I hung out with stationary_jew, and helped him, benma and a bunch of other Memphibians to set up their Dark Con table, a larp game that they played for pretty much the entire length of the con. Shortly thereafter, mastergode arrived, with his friends keebler138 and cagexxx. I’ve been talking to mastergode for some three-odd years now, starting with a few chance games of Gunbound. He’s actually the person who convinced me to start a livejournal, so for anyone who’s ever gotten any entertainment whatsoever from my blogging here, he’s the one you should thank. After we’d made our introductions, demonlet called to say she was there, more introductions were made, and thus began the saga of the best_roommates_ever. I couldn’t have asked for more fun people to share a room with.

On Friday morning, the con began in earnest, and we began wandering around, attending various panels, taking pictures of horrendous costumes, and weathering the muggy Atlanta air as best we could. First note: Out of the approximately 23487 people who insisted “COME TO DRAGON*CON, MELLZAH!!!!1one~”, not one of them bothered to elaborate with “You should bring a costume to the convention, because, frankly, you will be the one who looks out of place for dressing NORMALLY.”

Austin surprised me by having a freak magnet that nearly paralleled my own, as I soon discovered when he attracted this girl who believes herself to be a cat, and therefore pierced her face so the world could see her ‘whiskers’.

That day, Austin and Jordan filled me in on some of their in-jokes, one of which is after the end of a bad joke, or a drama-filled situation, or pretty much any time, really, they insert a bit from the “Duel of Fates” — the “Dun dun dununun!” bit. This was something that I latched onto immediately, and soon most things we said were punctuated with ‘DUN dun dununun!’ It continued throughout the weekend, and at the end, Annie went to Ray Park’s signing table and had him autograph a photo for Jordan with…well…just take a look.

When we showed it to Austin, he nearly died laughing. Austin naturally has a boisterous laugh, and this autographed photo took it to the next level. We were all shouting and crying with laughter…right outside some poor nerd’s door with a ‘do not disturb’ sign on it. That’s what he gets for playing D&D all night long. At five on Friday, we went to see Voltaire’s first show. He played for about half an hour, and it was apparently during this time that dslartoo spotted me, though he didn’t introduce himself because I was surrounded by other people, and he didn’t want to be rude. Note to Phil: Next time, introduce yourself. I don’t consider it to be rude at all. 🙂 After Voltaire, I took a picture of what I consider to be one of the best costumes at the con–namely because I found out afterwards that this kid INSISTED on being Ash.

The mini chainsaw worked. If I could have an awesome child like miniature Ash, here, I’d actually consider having one. Friday night, we were invited to a party with an open bar sponsored by Van Gogh vodka. Hello free premium booze! And lo, we drank. And lo, we became drunk. And lo, I did my first shot out of a woman’s cleavage. Shortly thereafter, Austin followed suit.

We ended up leaving the party to go to Voltaire’s midnight show, and who did we run smack into in the hallway but Kevin Sorbo? Trashed, I demanded (and received) a photograph with him.

I ended up bumping into him so many times at the con, I lost count, and I’m sure he must have thought I was stalking him. Only once did I have the presence of mind to clap and jump, ala the Nutty Professor, and proclaim loudly “HERCULES!HERCULES!HERCULES!”. I think, at that moment, Kevin Sorbo died a little inside. I was surprised, but I wasn’t passing up the chance. All that matters is that I was satisfied.

Voltaire put on a great show, and afterwards, when he came out to chat with Austin, he calmly walked over to me and licked my eyebrows. Yes. Licked my eyebrows. I think Laris said it best when she wrote (I’m paraphrasing, here) that I seem to be a lightning rod for insanity. Oh, but the craziness was just beginning, friends.

On Saturday night, we went to a Klingon party. Now, there is really only one reason to go to a Klingon party, and that is to make fun of Klingons. Well, that, and Free Booze. So…two reasons. The first thing we noticed when we walked in was that it was, once again, a party with an open bar. The second thing was that no one besides us was under the age of 40, and that was being kind. Being the refined sort of smartass that I am, I walked in, got a drink, and immediately asked loudly if anyone there spoke Klingon. A guy shuffled over, and began talking to me, stuttering so badly, I thought perhaps he was having a stroke. My first thought: Why would anyone who has so much trouble with their native language decide “Hey, I think I’d like to learn a second language, perhaps one that people will find even more socially debilitating?” My second thought: “Holy shit, he doesn’t stutter when he speaks Klingon!”. Well, apparently, one of the great warrior Klingons perceived that I was not overall as interested in learning about Klingon as I claimed to be, and pronounced me to be what I can only presume to be a ‘dirty bitch’ in Klingon. They turned the tables on me! How could this have happened? Meanwhile, the stuttery Klingon was still going on and on about how he learned the language, and the various trek figures he’d spoken it with and I just kept smiling and nodding and making various interested noises. Jordan later said that I have my “I’m interested in what it is you’re saying” face mask so well composed that he had a difficult time telling whether I was enjoying myself, or hoping for someone to step in and make an excuse to get us out of there. I should really take the advice of my Animal Crossing bretheren more seriously: “Next time you find you’re stuck talking to someone, yell “Leave me alone!” and take out your net.” Luckily, Jordan guessed right, and we disappeared off into the night… Only to run into my ‘friend’ Satyr. I’d gone through the art room earlier that day, and paused at his table for a few seconds. He looked up and greeted me, and then I felt like I had to look a while longer or risk being considered rude. He mentioned that he had recently done artwork for Blizzard, and I mentioned that I had a serious bone to pick with Blizzard. He then said that if I bought some of his art, he’d be my boyfriend. HAR HAR. I am not yet so desperate I need to purchase human affection, mmkay? I backed away from the table slowly and had forgotten all about it until he ran down the hallway of the Marriott towards me shouting “MELISSA!!!” OK. I will admit I was a little flattered that he remembered me. Then he started laying on the compliments so thickly that I knew something was wrong. Annnnnnnnd there it was. “Yeah, so I’m married with a kid, but it’s an open relationship, and you’re so cute…” OH THRILLING. I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE SOME RANDY ART DUDE’S LEFTOVERS, YES PLEASE, BECAUSE CTHULHU OBVIOUSLY THINKS I DIDN’T LEARN MY LESSON THE FIRST TIME, you know, the time I dated the guy who penciled for Marvel and neglected to mention that he had another girlfriend the entire time and then tried to blackmail me. This is not happening for a number of reasons, dude. But he WAS supposed to be having a good party, and Jordan, Annie, and I were having a hard time finding a decent party to go to, so I decided to withstand his attentions in the hopes of future Absinthe. Do not count your sugar before it is burned, friends. We didn’t end up going to this party, and now some dude who calls himself Satyr has my phone number. Why, oh why? It is sort of like if one of the Hilton sisters was to almost choke on some thousand-dollar-an-ounce caviar–it’s potentially tragic…but not really.

One morning I woke up, and the Batmobile was outside my window. I called for Batman to carry me away, but I suppose shouts don’t carry well from the 19th floor.

That same day, I met the man I am destined to marry.

Who dares to say that it isn’t meant to be? In the dealer’s hall, I paid fifty cents to see…..THE STRANGE THING. I have an awesome camera that easily allows me to take photographs from waist level, so without further ado, I present to you…THE STRANGE THING.

Right next to the booth with THE STRANGE THING, there was a booth with the world’s sweetest drag queen, who happened to be dressed as Ed Wood from ‘Glen or Glenda’. He said I was the only person who recognized what he was supposed to be, we ‘squeed’ a bit about the inspired genius of Ed Wood, Annie took my picture with him, and that was that. One of the big highlights of my weekend was meeting Peter S. Beagle, author of The Last Unicorn. Although I don’t write as often or as well as I should, and I even more rarely write fiction, he has been a huge inspiration for me, and one of my lifelong heroes. To say I almost proposed to him on the spot would be only the barest of exaggerations.

Thoroughout the course of the con, I hung out with a lot of people I know from Livejournal, everyone I’ve noted above, in addition to storm_dancer, dayoff, and drspooky–plus quite a few people who said they had livejournals and I should add them but I was in too much of a drunken haze to remember their names. Perhaps they will find me. Everyone was beyond awesome, much more than I ever could’ve hoped for. I’m sorry I didn’t get to spend as much time with some of you as I would have liked, and hopefully that can be remedied at some future time. As of Sunday morning, I was having so much fun that I thought about and actually attempted to change my flight to Monday, but the exponential rise in costs killed it; not to mention that another night of drinking heavily would’ve probably killed me, as my drunk stomach loudly proclaimed. Drunk stomach or no, Annie and I managed to charm Kavan Smith of Stargate/Battlestar Galactica fame so much that he forgot to press an elevator button and subsequently missed his floor. Would I have minded bringing him home? Absolutely not. So, in preparation for leaving, and in anger that once again, Homeland Security had been rooting through my bag and had broken something (this time, a gift for a friend), I wrote the TSA a note. Dear TSA: You have physically inspected my bag on my last 7/7 flights. I have had items broken, filed a claim, and received no response. I have had items stolen, filed a claim, and received no response. Frankly, my faith in the system is not high, nor do I feel any safer on airplanes as a result of your presence. Please stop breaking and/or stealing my shit. STOP BREAKING AND STEALING MY SHIT. I MEAN IT. Have a little courtesy, for fuck’s sake. Well, I opened my bag when I got home, and I saw that I’d riled some Homeland Security monkey up so much that he/she couldn’t help but leave a response (indicating that once again, they’d found purpose to root through my bag and fondle my undergarments. I should really stop buying Hanes for Terrorists.) But I digress. This is the response I received: Response: Have a little respect. For our sakes! Not everyone is a thief nor an idiot! I’ll give you some respect when you start acting like you deserve it. I do love that they couldn’t resist writing me a note back. I feel like an internet troll only 300 times more awesome. Also, the incorrect grammar used when claiming to NOT be an idiot absolutely slays me. It is so delicious I could eat it with a spoon. Dun dun dununun!