p.s. Hello Mr. Troll?
You need to get going on your trip report here.
Yes, yes, you are correct. Sad thing about life is that stupid thing called "work" that keeps getting in the way!
Anyway, I'm off today, so I have a little time for this last installment of the Troll's Trip Report.
Yes, you read that right -- last installment.
Not that I don't have lots more stories and memories to share -- we did go to FW dozens upon dozens of times growing up -- but I've run out of photos to share.
The photos really help the story along, don't they?
But anyway, as I mentioned, Leslie and I bought some pulled pork BBQ sandwiches from the takeout menu at the Meadows rec area.
Have I mentioned that lunch options at the Fort are extremely
limited?
You just have to wonder!
I mean, considering the suits made sure there was some kind of grub stand every ten steps when they built Animal Kingdom, you'd think they'd apply at least a dose of that same marketing panache at the Fort.
But no.
If you want lunch, it's a takeout window.
Take it or leave it.
At least the BBQ was really, really good. Man, oh, man was it good. They wrapped it in a pita wrap instead of a traditional bun, which I really liked. Say what you will about the prices, but at least it's good.
I forgot to mention an observation I made about the Fort in previous installments: Basketball courts.
Notice that the net has slipped out of two of the net hooks. It needs to be rehooked.
Most of the basketball courts now are on a smooth concrete slab. This one, however, is still asphalt:
Look at all them cracks! Hope you're not wanting to play a serious game of one-on-one on this court. That ball will be bouncing every which way.
Actually, I like the cracks. Why? Because it suggests to me that this asphalt is a Fort original!
If memory serves me correctly, all the basketball courts in the Fort were asphalt. I may have dribbled a basketball on this very court!
And that basketball?
It was Mr. Disney's basketball.
Why do I say that? Because back in the glory days, there used to be a square wooden box attached to the post of each basketball court, and in it would be a basketball!
Ready to be used!
For free!
No need to bring your own ball!
Mr. Disney had thought of everything!
I remember walking up to the basketball court the very first time -- I was by myself and probably around 8 years old. I saw that basketball sitting in that wooden box unattended, and I just thought the world of it. I remember shooting hoops at the Fort for hours on end.
I sucked, of course, but it was great fun all the same.
Great fun -- all because Disney management had paid attention to detail and placed a basketball at each court, just in case someone wanted to play and didn't have one.
The wooden basketball holders and the free-to-borrow basketballs are long gone.
Why?
I'll tell you why.
Kenny Cart thieves!
Yes, you see, we couldn't just have something nice, like free-to-borrow basketballs at each court. No, no, no! The Kenny Cart thieves would put an end to that. We're not allowed to have anything nice, you see. Instead, the Kenny Cart thieves would steal the free-to-borrow basketballs and ruin the setup for everyone.
But then I wondered, how much would it cost the Fort management to provide free-to-borrow basketballs at each court?
Let's do the math.
You can buy this basic basketball at Walmart for $7:
Now, how many basketball courts are there at the Fort (TCD?)? Let's say four.
OK, let's say the Fort management places the free basketballs at the courts again. And let's also suppose that the Kenny Cart thieves steal two of the basketballs per day.
2 x $7 = $14
$14 x 365 = $5,110
Not to mention that Walmart would probably give the Fort a bulk basketball discount.
So that's $5,110 to provide free-to-borrow basketballs at the Fort.
Maybe if the Fort would start selling Fort emblazoned merchandise, open up a real arcade, and provide better dining options for lunch, they'd make more money and could afford the $5,110 for free-to-borrow basketballs?
Anyway, in a previous post I mentioned that one year my uncle Wayne came with us on a trip to the Kingdom and stayed with us at the Fort.
Our custom was to always check out and go home on Sunday. But before we'd leave the Fort, Pop would always get us up early and take us out for one final activity, like sailboating, speed boating, or tandem bike riding.
This trip, Uncle Wayne wanted to go to Discovery Island.
I had never been, believe it or not.
I think Pop had a sixth sense for things that suck.
Like he never took us in to see the Tiki birds.
And in 1999, when Pop was 73-years-old, he and I visited Animal Kingdom for the first time.
It also was Pop's last time.
You see, as he and I exited the Animal Kingdom after our first visit, Pop proved that even in his advanced age, his sixth sense still worked fine.
"Animal Kingdom
sucks," he pronounced.
And I, regrettably, had to agree.
Anyway, back to Discovery Island.
Uncle Wayne wanted to go, so Pop agreed to take us there for our Sunday outing. So there we all were, ready to go with bells on. I was just bursting with excitement! I was...I can't remember...nine or ten, and there was a Disney park I hadn't seen yet. There'd be fresh attractions and rides and shows and parades and
fun!
I imagined pirates and swashbucklers and shipwrecks and treasure chests and cannons and forts and fun, fun,
fun!
Instead I got this:
And this:
And this:
And this:
And this was the big attraction:
I was like, "Are you serious? Are you fricking kidding me?! A bunch of birds and a stupid snake? Where's all the pillaging and drunkenness and murder and townsmen locked in burning jails and auctioning of captured women?!"
Where's the
fun?!?
Instead my father pays $12 for me to come see a stupid parrot that I could see for free at the corner pet store?!
I felt like Peppermint Patty at Charlie Brown's Thanksgiving dinner.
Robbed! Robbed we were!
To this day, I hate that Discovery Island. I shed no tears for it as it suffers the same agonizing death that my beloved River Country endures. Die, Discovery Island, die!
Oh, yeah, I would call your attention to this:
Let's examine this closely. First of all, that pirate sure looks a heck of lot like Linda Blair in her title role in that phobia-inducing unholy specter, "The Exorcist."
Second, how the heck did my dog Zoe get inside the ride? Did she scratch out of the Aliner and go out for some trip reporting of her own?
Never mind. Let's get back to that visit to Discovery Island.
Needless to say, I was greatly relieved when that boat launch flying that misleading pirate flag pulled up to the dock and got us off that mosquito infested, parrot soiled sweat box and took us back to the happy Fort.
But I wasn't happy.
For I knew that I was leaving the Fort.
My heart grew heavy and a lump formed in my throat.
In my child world, there were only two other days that compared to the heavy-heartedness of leaving the Fort: The last day of summer vacation and the day my mother would take all the Christmas decorations down.
I remember riding the tram back from the dock at Clementine Beach to our loop, dreading the fact that we had to pack up and go. I watched all the happy things go by: The rose bushes, the wooden fences, the footpaths, the playgrounds, the free-to-borrow basketballs...
I rued in envy the new arrivals as they were just beginning their happy vacations as I was ending mine.
As the Florida pines rolled on by, Pop said to Uncle Wayne, "We sure hate to leave this place..."
Amen, Pop.
Amen.
I tried to console myself in the knowledge that we'd be back again in the future many, many times, but it didn't work.
That lump just grew bigger in my throat.
And so it was with the same heavy heart that I found myself collapsing our Aliner on the day before Thanksgiving, 2010.
Again I tried to console myself in the knowledge that we'd be coming back for more.
But again it didn't work.
And so this marks the end of the first Troll's Trip Report, but it won't be the last.
I hope you enjoyed reading along as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
Thanks for reading along, and a special thanks goes out to everyone who had nice things to say.
I especially want to thank Mrs. Troll for not only tolerating the trip reporting and the fastidious picture-taking, but actually enjoying, encouraging, and helping out with it!
I love her so much.
And we loved the
Fort so much, we just bought a new-to-us little hybrid travel trailer:
So watch out, Fort Fiends! The Trolls are heading in to invade your turf!
