Bucko's World

Entry Date: 10 August 2009

Road Kill

Vive la difference, or so the French say, but of course we should ignore them coz they’re a bunch of c***s. But it’s something cheap air travel has given us all the chance to do. Get your arse somewhere else, have a look round, see how they do things and then decide we do them so much better at home.

Our beer, for instance, is the best in the world. Come home from any foreign trip where I’ve had little choice but to drink fizzy local lager at minus 5°C or shite regional wine made with grapes most civilised nations wouldn’t find fit to make vinegar with, and I’m gasping for a proper pint of London Pride or Spitfire. Our food’s the best too. Tell me you haven’t come back from your travels to the corners of the globe and not been gagging for a curry as soon as you set foot back in Blighty. And yes, curry is English, ask any Indian…..And, of course, the weather. We’re all desperate for a bit of cold and cloudy by the time we get back, even if just to give us something to talk about again.

So yes, Vive La Difference, so long as we all know that home is best………However…what if, while away on a foreign jaunt, you find something that is much better than we do it here at home??

One such case in point, from the lovely highways and byways of Florida comes one huge improvement over what we have here….

You’re familiar with the concept. You’re making your way down a leafy b-road, hedges brushing both wing mirrors and passing places available, when you happen upon dear old Mr Fox lying in the gutter his neck snapped in two. Or perhaps a game bird, squirrel - maybe even a badger…all standard stuff. But in Orange County things are so much more impressive. As we pilot the Land Barge towards the Magic Kingdom a glance out the window to the verges it’s as if the local zoo has had a breakout.

Firstly, instead of Mr Tiddles from number 42 whose missing poster is yellowing on a lamppost at the end of the road, there’s Armadillos (ARMADILLO! Crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yo0qjuA42HA

Next up is a Vulture, its massive wing span covering two lanes and crunching slightly as we pass over it. And then there’s the ring-tailed, glasses wearing, steroid-munching-squirrel-in-pyjamas that is the ‘coon. No, not what would generally be thought to be a typically southern racist comment but just how the local refer to the Racoons that fall from trees like acorns round here. Amazingly it’s all so educational. What had previously only been known to me for having a bone in its penis, now adds egg stealing and being munched on regularly Alligators to its list of attributes.

If that list isn’t impressive, than the pile we saw on the way down to St Pete’s can surely not be beaten. As we sat in traffic I looked out to see the now rather common sight of an Armadillo (ARMADILLO etc etc….) flattened and almost certainly having passed over to the next realm judging by the tyre tread decorating its carapace, next to the desiccated corpse of an alligator, the twitching remains of an Osprey and another one of those darned Raccoons. One can only imagine the battle going on for the poor little Armadillo’s (Armadi…..oh, you get the picture by now…) bones before the juggernaut’s tyre burst causing it to swerve and provide a Road Kill banquet unlikely ever to be topped.

Part two follows shortly.....

Entry Date: Monday 10th August 2009
Superstition. A man dies, and a city is plunged into darkness. A dog howls and drops dead on the spot. A canary sings a last plaintive melody before flying off to the great birdcage in the sky. Bad luck? A coincidence? Or proof positive of the power of ancient magic, twisted spells and the curse of the Mummy’s Tomb?.......

And so fed and watered, and with our first “branded” shopping haul of the trip out of the way, we head for the gates of Universal Studios, and our first theme park of the holiday. As we slip our tickets through the barriers, have our fingerprints taken, provide a urine sample and retinal scan (sounding familiar by chance?) the sense of excitement begins to mount as we spy part of the immense red track that forms the park’s, and Florida’s newest rollercoaster, the Hollywood Rip Ride Rockit. From the 167 vertical drag to the first drop to the seven inversions and 3,800 feet of track it looks incredible, and so you can imagine our disappointment to be told it’s not open yet. This has shades of 22 years ago when the whole Universal Park made its debut 2 weeks after we’d gone home. Grrr..

However there’s plenty more to do, and knowing what the queuing is like here we decide to head straight for the Simpson’s ride, rather brilliantly located in Krustyland. As it’s new this year, the wait is bound to be mahoosive. We hurry along but are stunned when we get there. We look around and check that we’re at the right ride. Yep. We check the ride is open. Yep again. We check that we haven’t misread the sign and that the wait is only 20 minutes and not two hours. Again, yep. 20 minutes!! We’re amazed. 20 minutes is about how long it’ll take us to get to the ride from its entrance, technically we’re walking straight in. Unbelievable. But we leg it on all the same, just in case it’s a mirage. In fact we’re on in ten, which beggars belief. And it’s bloody brilliant! A simulated rollercoaster through an animated Simpson theme park, it shakes you around, plunges you down the simulated drops on the 360° screen, makes smells like baby sick along with allsorts of other great stuff. Fantastic. So good in fact, that at least two of our party hate it and vow never to get on another ride again. Job done!

The rest of the park’s the same story. 10 minutes only for Men in Black, 15 for Shrek 4D, which is just hilarious and clever, and inside in the air conditioning which gets it 11 out of 10. There’s also only a 10 minute wait For Terminator 2:3D, an absolute must for any fan of Arnie, the Terminator films or of loud explosions and over the top special effects - pretty much any bloke then. Even getting lunch is quick, over which we speculate why the queues are so much shorter than last time we were here. Credit Crunch? U.S. kids back at school? More theme parks meaning us Brits are spread out more? Who knows, but it proves to be an extra bonus we hadn’t expected on our trip here and we like it!

And then like Lord Canarvon before us, we find ourselves poised - with naked anticipation - before the entrance to the Mummy’s tomb. Just us older fellas I might add, all else having been scared off by the inscription "They who enter this sacred tomb shall swift be visited by wings of death." We blokes, however, are made of stronger stuff, and that is baloney. We enter and much adventure is before us.

We come out half an hour later grinning from ear to ear. We’ve seen ancient treasures of immeasurable value, been attacked by Imhotep and his scarab beetle hordes, had huge rocks miss us by inches and almost been set on fire, all before being dropped 40ft backwards down a hill and on to a break neck roller coaster ride in the pitch black, surrounded by constant screams and the roaring curses of the Mummy chasing after our very souls. It was brilliant, everything you’d expect from Hollywood with an extra serving of screaming yourself silly for good measure.

As we leave however, things take a dark and possibly mysterious turn. We’re looking at the photo they’ve taken of us on the ride when, my friend points out we both look like Japs on the vinegar strokes, and I burst out laughing. The laugh, however soon strangled into a cough and I realise that where half an hour earlier I felt right as rain, I now feel decidedly peculiar. I have a drink of water, and feel a bit better, but still have this niggley tickle in my throat. Despite this, we head off to the Twister ride, but by the time we come out not only am I still coughing, but feel nauseous and have a fever.

Being sure that the only thing wrong is that we’re not used to the heat, we all decide to call it a day at the Park, and head off to one of Florida’s many huge air-conditioned malls for a well deserved chill out and possibly some light shopping. We’d seen a good sounding one on the way here, called Orlando Premium Outlets, so head there to cool down. Unfortunately when we get there it proves to be unique amongst Florida’s Malls. It’s unique, because there isn’t actually an inside. The only respite from the heat, which is over 100°F by now, is in the shops, the rest of the time you’re subject to the full force of Mother Nature. By now unable to stop coughing, I barely manage 10 or 12 shops before I start to feel really shite. Like a typical man, I don’t say anything, and soldier on like the trooper I am. But I’m really glad when the kids say they are too hot and want to go home and play in the pool.

When we remount the beast I start to wonder, in my fevered state, how can this sickness have come on so quick? What could have happened? And then the truth dawns with a soul shivering certainty. As I feel my very life-force dripping away, it seems that like Canarvon I too have ignored with impunity the words inscribed above the door, and unknown ancient forces borne on swift wings have come back and kicked me in the arse. Yes, it would appear that like those doubters before me, I have been struck down by the Mummy’s Curse…..

Entry Date: Monday 10th August 2009
It may be a good time to mention the Sacred Text of St Lisa as it didn’t become known and its importance to us all in having a successful time in Florida. It cannot be stressed how incredibly valuable it was in ensuring the smooth running of our trip, and it became a little book of calm to be turned to for solace and comfort when all around turned to chaos. Or put more simply, without it we wouldn’t never have got anywhere or done nuffink.

The first draft of this Itinerary, as some insisted on calling it, arrived in my inbox as early as April as was on something like V4.2.1 by the time we eventually set foot set foot in the States. The most impressive thing about this document however, was not its neat organising of all the attractions in bites sized morning or afternoon chunks. Nor the way it told us when we could have a rest day or go to the shops. Nor the fact that it neatly broke down who could use the toilet at which time and how many sheets of loo roll were allocated to each bathroom a day. No, none of that. It was the fact that by the end of the holiday, not one single thing had actually been done on the day allocated to it.

The rest day yesterday seems to have done us a lot of good and we’re recovered enough from our jet lag to face our first trip to a theme park, and let’s face it, that’s one of the main reasons for us coming here. A quick check of the Itinerary shows Disney’s MGM Hollywood studios is the venue selected for today, so it will come as no surprise to anyone that we are not, in fact, going there. See, yesterday our Rep, told us that if we pitched up at The Hard Rock Café at Universal Studios by nine today, she’d not only pay our parking, but give us a free breakfast, vouchers for lunch, money off our dinner and discounts off stuff in the Hard Rock shop. It Sounded too good to be true, and such things usually are. I’m a firm believer that you don’t get nothing for nothing, except perhaps your grammar corrected, so I was sceptical to say the least. I mean let’s face it, a free lunch normally ends up with your boss sacking you, free advice from someone usually means they’re going to tell you you’ve been doing something wrong, and free pizza usually means you have to visit a pizza restaurant. It’s all a lose/lose situation in my book.

But, parking is $12, breakfast would be $70 all in, and we’d probably go to Hard Rock shop anyway, so where’s the catch?

And at nine o’clock, as I sit looking at my excellent breakfast – no dry toast and water as we speculated but the full “American”, which is like an English breakfast only bigger – we’re still wondering. We’ve had our parking money back, we’ve got the discount vouchers for the shop, and we’ve even got more vouchers for us to have a free lunch or dinner on the boardwalk opposite whenever we fancy. So where’s is this catch?? Well, I suppose it’s the rather half heated attempted made by the Virgin Rep to give a guide to all the attractions and point out how much of it you can organise through her for such bargain prices, but when you’ve got an itinerary and my wife on board you can simply say bollocks to all that and be on your merry way. It really was, for us at least a free lunch…….

Entry Date: Sunday August 9th 2009
Having already had one close call with razor toothed reptile, I’m glad to find that by the time I get back from my run the Rep has already been and gone and I haven’t had to deal with her. I don’t know about you, but when I’ve spent thousands of pounds to go on holiday and get away from it all, the one thing that is never on the agenda for the first day is having half my day wasted by an under informed sex maniac whose only interest in seeing you is the commission she’ll earn selling you overpriced trips, and who’ll then not be seen again during my stay despite it quite clearly stating on the notice board that she will be in reception between 4.30pm and 6.00pm.” Funny though, that’s how most of us start it.

It turns out however that this one did have some useful information for us. Information so important that a meeting is called, the sacred text of St Lisa of Chislehurst is reverentially laid before us, and the British Museum novelty souvenir pen of correction is sought out from it’s holy resting place at the bottom the Marillion bag and is primed for service……..but more of that later.

The best thing about today is that there is a big blank next to it in the Itinerary (or, as it was never known, the Sacred Text”). It simply says “Rest day, Brunch?” What with the jet lag and all, it was thought best that we have a lazy morning in bed (or out running..) and afternoon round the pool (or in bed). We like that, but we like the idea of a big fat American style Sunday Brunch even more. The Frommer’s is consulted and before you know it we’re in the car, the Sat Nav is primed, and we’re on our way to the brilliantly named Celebration, Fla. And like all last minute, off the cuff, stick a pin in it and see what comes up decisions we make on the trip, it turn out be a belter.

As we pull our battle bus into town, it’s as if we’ve passed through a time warp back to the fifties. It’s all clapperboard fronted houses and pastel colours, there’s a proper high street with cafes and bars and real shops, and there’s a brilliant looking, retro fronted flea pit right in the middle, which thankfully still features those staples of any old cinema – 10 screens and Dolby digital surround sound. But best of all, is the fact the town centre is spread around a lake. A lake with a sign. A lake, with a sign, that says “Do not feed the Alligators”. It’s just fantastic. I’ve been in Florida less than twenty four hours and I’ve already found the place I want to live.

As we wander around we can’t escape the feeling we’re on a movie set. There’s the church, exactly like the one Slash walks out of before playing the guitar solo in the November Rain video, there’s the clock tower that could have Doc Brown hanging from it just as Marty McFly powers the Delorean down the road desperately trying to hit 88 miles an hour, there’s the aforementioned lake, full of snapping Alligators from Live and Let Die…..all we need is a storm and some forked lightning behind hotel and all your horror film nightmares could come true.

After our quick scoot round, we hole up in the Market Square Café, which not only boast Milkshakes and Malts on the windows like a proper fifties diner, it’s also appropriately styled with red leather and chrome stools up at the counter, and cosy booths to snuggle up in at the rear. The menu is handed round and it’s good, hearty, some may even say heart attack fare that’s served up here. I select the steak and eggs and am amused when Conor turns his nose up at the kids menu and demands an American cheese omelette, rather than the beans on toast he’s offered. However, the real star on the menu is the brilliantly named Baked Potato omelette. You get an omelette with a baked potato chopped up inside it, sour cream and chives on top and a portion of Hash Browns, which is basically a chopped up, fried baked potato, on the side. It’s a breakfast fit for a truck driver and so my wife orders it. The rest of the food is suitably massive and by the time we’ve drunk a lake of coffee and groves of orange juice we’re fit to burst. A few laps round the village pond are in order. But first….


…..the fountain. Opposite the flea pit style cinema and laid and in the style of a compass pointing the way to all the local landmarks is a display water fountain. Ok, it may not be a match for Bellagio’s but it’s pretty cool in the way it goes on and off, firing varying patterns of surprisingly cold water up into the air. Now, as we know kids are attracted to water like flies to road kill it’s no surprise that this fountain is full of them, screaming in pleasure as they run in and out of the powerful jets. As soon as our two see this, they’re off and running. Fully clothed, they’re straight in and soaked to the skin in seconds. If only we adults could get away with it, it would be marvellous. Coz it’s 101°F and 90% humidity and it just looks so much fun.


Having eventually rescued the kids from the joys of ice cold water soaking through their pants, it off for a brilliantly soggy walk around the lake. There’s turtles, storks, ospreys and every exotic bug imaginable to be seen, but despite our best efforts, not one single Alligator. No matter how close we, or indeed Shark Bait, get to the edge.

Despite this one disappointment, we have a great time, ending up back in the Market Square an hour later and chilling out by sitting in the rocking chairs (I kid you not) assembled under the sun shades around the lake edge. Actually, this is probably a great bit of population control by the local town council. Think about it. Old people, a bit tired after the dual exertions of eating a large meal and walking around the lake, decide to catch five minutes respite in a chair by the side of the pond. The gentle rocking motion send them off to sleep and as dusk drops and the temperature falls, the gators slip silently out of the lake……..

Of course as was bound to happen, the jet lag, combined with the soporific effects of heat and walking takes it toll and we head back home. It’s been superb, and we’re already planning to come even if it’s only to look for those elusive gators which, let’s face it, are so much more fun to have in your village pond than ducks or geese.