Categories
Travel

I Tried to Get Romantic at Sweeney Todd

Don’t let the cartoons fool you. It’s not a comedy.

9/29/23

I first saw the Tony-Award-winning Sweeney Todd on Broadway in 1979. That’s almost 45 years ago. I saw it again last night at Theater West End in Sanford, Florida. A lot of changes have transpired in my life between those two performances, the most significant of which has been the person I now attend shows with.

Back in 1979, it was Susan. She lived in Lower Manhattan. I lived in the Bronx. We met in the middle for shenanigans. Sometimes it was Lincoln Center. Sometimes it was Carnegie Hall. But Manhattan’s Theater District was our favorite haunt. NYC is an amazing place to catch live theater. I got lucky with Sweeney Todd. Knowing me, I probably bought the tickets because they were the least expensive.

Of course, I’d seen commercials for the show on TV, which spotlighted the show’s two stars, Len Cariou and Angela Lansbury. It looked like a horror movie set to music. “Oh, good,” I thought. “Maybe Susan will get scared and cuddle tight with me all night.”

But my drive-in delusions of having Susan pressed up against me were exactly that: delusions. For those who don’t know the plot, Sweeney Todd is the story of a barber falsely imprisoned by an evil judge who takes possession of the barber’s wife and child. When the barber regains his freedom, the bloody mayhem begins, and I mean bloody.

On stage, both in 1979 and last night, high-pitched sound effects accompany many of the murder scenes, as well as copious amounts of fake blood. When I saw the show with Susan, I was unprepared for the carnage. I pulled my arm from her shoulder after the first murder scene.

“Holy cow!” I said. “You see that?”

Susan just laughed. Spoiler alert: She was the tough guy in our relationship. I spent the rest of the show pushed back deeply in my seat and leaning toward her for safety. It was like watching a scary movie, except in this movie Jack the Ripper sings.

Fast forward to last night. Would I have the same visceral experience I had back in ’79? My guess was “no,” largely due to my maturation and my years of media exposure to true-life serial killers. The 2007 release of the Sweeney Todd movie (with Johnny Depp in the starring role) had also helped desensitize me, or so I figured.

I turned to Donna as the theater lights dimmed and felt confident. Donna was definitely an upgrade on Susan. She also would never tolerate an arm around her shoulder. When she’s focused on the arts, distract her at your own risk.

The opening song of Sweeney Todd (music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim) is one of my favorites. It summarizes the arc of the madman’s life. But hearing about what will come never quite prepares you, not with the harrowing tale of “Sweeney…of Sweeney Todd…the demon barber of Fleet….Street!”

Last night’s performance did not disappoint. There wasn’t a weak singer in the cast, although the performances by the actors who portrayed Anthony, Tobie, and Mrs. Lovett were especially memorable. And, of course, who could forget the agony portrayed by Sweeney Todd himself. As the actors mingled among the audience during the performance, I said to myself, “Don’t make eye contact with Sweeney. Don’t make eye contact!”

Catch the show wherever you can see it, whether with this ensemble or another. It’s worth the chills. For me it was a reminder that it’s not about the journey or the destination but about the company. Thanks for buying the tickets, Donna. Wanna’ cuddle?

#Aichmophobiaisthefearofsharpobjects

Categories
Travel

Turbulent Days Ahead

As if things weren’t bumpy enough up there….

9/28/23

This week eight passengers aboard a JetBlue flight bound for Florida (of course, it had to be Florida) were hospitalized when their plane hit severe turbulence. We’ve all experienced turbulence, but severe turbulence? Yikes! I’m sure it must have felt like the plane was falling apart.

But as many times as Donna and I have experienced turbulence, not once has a wing detached and flown by our window. So, what are the odds of that happening?

It turns out that airplanes are designed to withstand rough conditions, and it’s rare for aircraft to incur structural damage because of turbulence. So, while it feels like the end of the world for passengers, the biggest threat you face with turbulence isn’t the plane crashing to its fiery doom but injuries to your person from being unbelted.

Although turbulence can cause severe injuries, experts emphasize that staying seated and keeping your seatbelt on as much as possible during flights is the best way to reduce risks.

But reducing turbulence-related injuries isn’t the same as reducing turbulence. The injuries that occurred this week are part of a troubling trend. In March, a Lufthansa flight experienced “significant turbulence,” in which seven people were taken to area hospitals. A month later, an Avelo Airlines flight dropped 300 feet. Three flight attendants suffered injuries. Then, in August, a Delta Air Lines flight ran into turbulence so severe that 11 people were hospitalized.

So, why are planes suddenly being swatted around in the sky? (I thought Mr. Blue Sky was our friend.) The culprit, as you may have already guessed, is the same one at the center of so many other environmental woes: the climate crisis.

According to a recent study, the climate crisis is leading to more turbulence during flights, driving up costs and increasing the risks for passengers and crew. The study found that warmer air, caused by carbon emissions, is creating bumpier flights around the world with severe turbulence in the North Atlantic up by 55% since 1979 and is costing the airline industry $150-$500M annually in the USA alone.

So, you’re telling me no more cheap airline flights? And that Arizona trip that we have coming up, you’re telling me it’s going to be bumpy all the way? Yikes indeed. Just don’t do any barrel rolls over the Grand Canyon. Can you at least do that much for us?

#whosaidtothrowcautiontothewind?

Categories
Travel

The Worried Look On My Doctor’s Face

My doctor had something on his mind other than me.

9/27/23

I don’t like going to the doctor. Why? Make up a reason, and we’ll go with that. The point is there are so many reasons that it would be a tedious exercise to list them all.

So, I’m sitting in his office yesterday, and he’s going over my numbers. It’s been a year since I’ve seen him, so I’m curious about what he has to say. My weight is about the same and so is my blood pressure, 111 over 78. My blood oxygen level is 96, within the normal range of 95 to 100 (although Donna will say it’s not high enough). The doctor listens to me breathe, presses down on the various areas of my body, and pronounces me fit to continue blogging. (Darn it! I was hoping for a sick day.)

Finally, he asks how my deep vein thrombosis (DVT) is doing. The pace of the examination slows down after that. He stops writing and we talk. It’s been about 3 years since I was first diagnosed with a blood clot. Since that time, I’ve been on and off my medication several times. (I want to make a joke about being off my meds, but I can’t. Just insert laughter here.) Just when I think I’m all cured, the clot comes back, always in my legs but never in the same spot.

“I give up,” I tell him. “I don’t have any expectations of ever stopping my medication, not with the history of clots in my family.”

That kind of admission would’ve made me sad in the past, but not anymore. I’ve accepted my genetics.

The doctor launches into a long dissertation about how the clot is unlikely to reach my heart, and then he stops. Something he said has reminded him about another patient who was referred to him, a referral that he refused.

“He was referred to me by a cardiologist with a cardiology problem. I’m not a cardiologist. But those big HMOs don’t care about anything except me completing the referral. It’s all about the money.”

Hello? I’m in the room and you’re complaining about how your profession engages in bloodsucking? Not cool. But he’s on a roll, and I don’t stop him.

The next thing I know he’s telling me about how one HMO fired him, or should I say released him from his contract, for not generating enough money. The doctor sighs and goes on to talk about slowing down. He’s contemplating retirement for the first time, or at least thinking about hiring another doctor for his office so he can work less hours. He complains about all the paperwork he has to do and the hours he works in the evening after he leaves the office, and suddenly I’m looking at someone who’s stressed out.

I remember that feeling. I debate asking him if he wants to sit down and maybe put his feet up. Should I take his blood pressure? He’s not looking well. He used to have more hair, and the frown lines on his face are more pronounced. At home he probably fantasizes about taking a good, long nap. I remember all of that.

He talks about one day being able to take long vacations, and his spirit lifts. His attention shifts back to me, and he asks which pharmacy he should send my prescription for blood clot medication to.

When he informs me that I’m past due for a physical, I know he’s back in full doctor mode. That’s when I decide to make my exit. Like I said, I don’t like going to the doctor. I’ll catch him in the new year, that is unless he’s retired. Everyone should get to experience that.

#Dr.SeussispartofmyHMO

Categories
Travel

A Place For Uppity Wives

9/26/23

Uppity wives. You can’t live with ’em. You can’t live without ’em. No, I’m not talking about my wife. I’m talking about other people’s wives. I’m also talking about history and how men used to have their wives committed to institutions like the one pictured above just for looking at them sideways. Involuntary institutionalization was a very common happening in the early 1900s (anyone who’s watched any Turner Classic Movies knows that), right up until around the 1960s when the deinstitutionalization movement led to the closure of hundreds of psychiatric hospitals. (Think One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, which was set in the 1960s.)

But before that wrong was righted, American insane asylums (the less cute name for sanitariums) became famous for some very horrible practices: electric shock treatment, lobotomies, forced sterilization, and other dubious experimental treatments like insulin shock therapy. And, apparently, the majority of people in asylums didn’t medically need to be there, or at least it wasn’t their idea to volunteer.

Up until the 1960s, the majority of patients in U.S. mental health facilities were admitted involuntarily. That’s because the laws back then allowed families to commit their relatives with little to no supporting evidence. By contrast, about 71% of the people in psychiatric institutions today are there voluntarily.

But during the sanitarium craze, a wife could land in an asylum for no reason other than disagreeing with her husband. Parents also routinely committed their children on the grounds that they were uncontrollable. Worse, institutions were incentivized to sell the idea of confinement to people with problem relatives. And it wasn’t a quick in and out. The institutionalization could last for years.

Which brings me back to the Turner Classic Movies I mentioned. I’m not equating TCM to the History Channel. I’m just saying you could learn a lot from some of those old black-and-white movies. For example, whenever one of those husbands with the thick, handle-bar mustaches committed their wives, it was always so they could spend more time with their mistresses. How unoriginal.

But, apparently, some people still get nostalgic for the days when you could lock up your partner on nothing more than your say-so. Some people would love to do it to their ex-partners. Take the Pennsylvania State Trooper who was arrested last week for allegedly having his ex-girlfriend illegally committed to a psych ward. He is facing multiple charges for falsely claiming she was suicidal and serving her with an involuntary mental health commitment.

That’s pretty ballsy but also pretty stupid. Of course, the psych ward saw no indication that she needed to be committed. So, now who’s the psycho, Mr. Officer?

We can’t go back in time and undo all the harm that’s been done to all the innocent people who suffered forced institutionalization. But, at least on this day, justice prevailed.

#isitacrimetobecuckooforCocoPuffs?

Categories
Travel

Floridians Are Proud of the Silliest Things

Chomp, chomp, chomp.

9/25/23

There are two types of people who visit Volusia County beaches in Florida: those who have galeophobia, the fear of sharks, and stick close to land, and surfer dudes who have no fear of sharks. Volusia County, my home county, by the way, is “shark bite capital of the world.” It’s where swimmers and surfers are most at risk in the state, with 343 recorded shark bites from 1882-2023, more than double that of neighboring Brevard County. So, maybe those surfers who choose to snub their noses at Volusia County sharks should rethink that practice before they get those noses bit off.

Wait. Did that just happen? As it happens, two weeks ago a surfer was bit in the face in those very waters I’ve described. He was just surfing along, ignoring the danger, and then…crunch!

I heard the crunch,” said the surfer, who received about 20 stitches for his troubles. “It felt like a bear trap crunching on my face. I had a feeling I was going to get bit… I really did. Honestly, I had intuition.”

Let me get this straight: You felt it was going to happen, but you went into the water anyway? So, he was gifted with intuition but also a lack of common sense? What a shame.

Anyway, as you might guess, when the face-bite victim was asked if he’d go back in the water, he had this to say:

“Heck yeah, I’m going surfing again. Because I love it. There’s nothing in the world that makes me feel better than surfing.”

How about breathing and being able to see out of your face? I hear those are pretty neat things.

I’m one of those people who have a shark phobia. So, during our last cruise, when we stopped at Ocean Cay in the Bahamas (see my post, “Ocean Cay“), I was thrilled to see netting in the water at the beach. Apparently, “shark barriers” have been installed around all of the island’s beaches as well as the lagoon entrances. Nothing is foolproof, I suppose. But when you’re in the water anywhere near Bimini, which is ranked among the top places in the world for shark encounters, any protection is better than none.

The odds of being bitten by a shark, of course, are statistically slim. But, in general, I think all of nature has gotten pretty sick of humans and would love to take a bite out of the nearest one.

According to the Florida Museum of Natural History, there are other animals more likely to attack people. Dogs, for example, are over five times more likely to fatally bite a person than a shark. The Florida Museum also compared the number of bear-related fatalities to shark-related fatalities from 1900 to the present in the U.S. and Canada and found that bear-related fatalities outpaced shark fatalities by over 4.5 times. And although shark bites (509) occurred more often than alligator bites (442) in data compiled up to 2021, alligator attacks are significantly more deadly. Twenty-six alligator bites have resulted in deaths in Florida compared to just nine shark-related fatalities.

I may just have developed three new phobias.

#youcan’tgetbitwatchingthenaturechannel

Categories
Travel

Macy’s 34th Street

Reprinted With Author’s Notes

9/24/23

Most everyone has visited Macy’s Herald Square. And if you haven’t, what are you waiting for? The department store has been around since 1902. So, most people have had ample opportunity to stop by. It’s one of the last turn-of-the-century department stores still in existence, the location of the Miracle on 34th Street movie, and the site of the annual Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. It also boasts a wooden escalator. So, it’s got a lot of history and tradition. Where do I fit in? I’m the guy who besmirched all that history and tradition.

The summer of 1982 was a whirlwind of disappointment for me. I’d just graduated from college with a B.A. in Journalism and was ready to take the world by fire, only to discover that nobody cared. If I could’ve written my own newspaper headline, it would’ve read, “We Like Your Spunk….What Else Ya’ Got?” No one was hiring anyone in journalism unless you had experience.

I hit the pavement, got real cozy with the want ads, and burned up the phone lines with inquiries. I couldn’t imagine any job being harder than finding a job. Finally, I got a call from Macy’s Human Resources. (I didn’t remember applying there, but okay.)

“Customer service? Sure, the business of servicing customers has always interested me. I’ll be right in.”

I grabbed a shirt, ran to the ironing board, threw on a sport jacket, and rushed out to my car. I’ve never arrived on time to an appointment in my life. That day was no exception. I drove to Macy’s, parked my car at a parking meter, looked down at myself, and dropped all my coins. I’d forgotten to put on a tie.

On top of that, I was five minutes late. But before there was a MacGyver, I was MacGyver. I spotted a high-neck sweater from the back seat of my car. (Who knows how long it had been back there? Wintertime would’ve been my guess.) Next, I whipped off one the socks I’d been wearing and stretched it out because it was pretty short. I tied it around my neck and pulled the sweater up as high as I could. It looked okay in the mirror. Only the knot of my sock-tie showed, so I hightailed it to my interview.

Between the running and the adrenaline generated by my Ocean’s 11 attempt to deceive the HR guy, I was sweating bullets by the time I sat down for my interview. The guy barely looked up at me. I felt like a genius. He rubberstamped my application and pronounced me fit to work at Macy’s.

Then he dropped a bombshell. First, I had to meet with the head of the Customer Service Department.

“Right this way,” he said.

I could feel my sweater start to droop and hunched up my shoulders to keep it positioned correctly. I didn’t dare reach up to see if the knot of my sock-tie was holding up.  Although I did consider pulling the fire alarm and making a break for it.

When I sat down across from the head of Customer Service, he just stared at me. The jig was up. A fresh bead of sweat dropped into my eye.

“You know, you remind me of someone.”

I chuckled but in a very customer service kind of way to show that I was the serious-minded type.

“Have you ever done this before?”

I almost said, “You mean come to an interview with a sock tied around my neck?”

“No, sir. But I’m a real people person.”

Why do people say that? There are no real people who like other people for no good reason on the planet. I expected to get thrown out. But the head of Customer Service just smiled, like he was used to dumbass responses like that. I’m sure he’d heard them all. My sweat started to subside.

When he went on to describe the job and what my hours would be, I knew I’d pulled off the perfect heist (me and my sock-tie). I was dazed by my success and stared at the photos of famous Macy’s executives on the wall. I would never be on that wall, but I deserved to be. Macy’s had been open since 1902, and it had taken them 80 years to come up against a desperate character like me. Rowland H. Macy would’ve turned over in his grave if he knew.

#I’mnotsureIfooledanyonewiththesock

Author’s Comments: I love to tell this story because it’s one of the few times in my life when I can say that I got the best of “The Man.” NYC is a tough town, so you have to celebrate your victories where you can get them. Jobs were hard to come by when I graduated college, and I really needed the money. Plus, when I put that sock around my neck, I believe I’d just gotten engaged and my first child would be born less than three years later. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do.

Categories
Travel

Florida Brightline Off to Rocky Start

“FLORIDA IS STARVED FOR TRAIN SERVICE”

Florida’s public transportation system is almost nonexistent.

9/22/23

Growing up in New York City, I took it for granted that public transportation was available anytime I wanted it. Most people I knew owed a car, but no one ever felt they had to drive. Driving was a convenience we enjoyed, but public transportation was always an option. It’s why New Yorkers are so entitled. They expect service for the high taxes they pay.

Fast forward to our move to Florida in 2002 and the culture shock we received. Where were the buses? Where were the trains? You mean I have to walk a mile in 95 degree weather to get to the nearest store? Did I just step off a plane or out of a time machine?

It’s like no one told Florida that they were allowed to have a modern infrastructure. The bridges were old, the highways were in shambles, and the streets flooded with every storm. Why would a state of over 21 million people put up with that? It’s because Florida is predominately a state of small cities. It’s the third most populous state in the country, but none of the cities have populations over one million.

Small-town mentalities create small-town expectations. So, in 2012 when it was announced that Brightline, the first private intercity passenger rail line in the U.S. in 100 years, would eventually link Miami and Orlando (the nearest big city to where I live), I’m sure a lot of people caught the vapors.

Even I didn’t know what to think. I never thought I’d ever get to see trains that can reach speeds of 125 mph in my neck of the woods. Those speeds qualify it to be called high-speed rail. Yippee! Progress at last.

By the way, it will take the train about 3 1/2 hours to make the trip from Miami to Orlando, which is about a half-hour time savings than if you drove. And for a limited time, Brightline is offering one-way SMART fares starting at $79 for adults and $39 for children, which I assume means that fares will go up after the trial period. Yippee?

The first train was originally scheduled to start running on September 1, 2023. But delays forced the date back a week and then another. Finally, it was announced that the train would start rolling out of the station today.

But, no, that’s not how Florida rolls. We like to tease out our accomplishments as slowly as we can. Although the train did indeed finally begin service today, it was promptly delayed by a crash involving another Brightline train headed southbound to Miami from West Palm Beach. Police confirmed that a pedestrian was hit and killed.

Eh. I think that technically still counts as progress. Let’s see if the train can make the trip tomorrow without any fatalities on the line.

#whereisThomastheTrainwhenyouneedhim?

Categories
Travel

The Horrible Stephen King

“WHERE’D THAT BLOOD STAIN COME FROM?”

Stephen who? Oh, yeah. I think I might’ve read one or two of his books.

9/21/23

Today is Stephen King’s birthday. The king of horror is 76 years old today, and I’ve been a fan of his for as long as I can remember. I think most people who’ve never read his books probably think he’s some kind psycho to be able to imagine so many horrible scenarios. I just see him as a fellow nerd who probably talked to himself a lot as a kid. Just me?

To my knowledge, none of his books has ever given me nightmares. But I will admit he’s made me squirm quite a bit or stare countless times into the shadows.

Thank God I don’t usually read King’s books late at night in bed. I do most of my reading on treadmills, or in planes, trains, and automobiles. Travel and reading go hand-in-hand with me. And only Donna has kept me company on more trips than Stephen King. Over two dozen of his books line my book shelves, but I’ve read at least 40 of them.

And, still, I probably wouldn’t be considered a Stephen King superfan by superfan standards. Depending on which website you consult, he’s written over 60 books, although his own website only mentions that he’s published over 50 books, which, I imagine, saves him the trouble of having to revise that page every six months (about how often I receive word of a new Stephen King release).

But not all of his books are horror stories. In fact, one of his most enjoyable books isn’t scary at all. On Writing, A Memoir of the Craft, is filled with writing tips, trivia, and even a few confessions. For example, if you’ve ever read Cujo, a book about a rabid St. Bernard that won the British Fantasy Award in 1982 and was made into a film in 1983, you may have stronger memories of the book than Stephen King, who freely admits that he barely remembers writing the book. Sadly, he spent most of the ’80s on an extended drug and alcohol binge.

But I’m glad the author of Carrie, Misery, ‘Salem’s Lot, The Green Mile, and The Shining recovered in time to be able to take me on so many wild rides. Stephen King not only encouraged me to be a voracious reader but to devour the imaginative tales of other horror writers, like Anne Rice and Dean Koontz.

“You learn best by reading a lot and writing a lot,” he says in his memoir. “And the most valuable lessons of all are the ones you teach yourself.”

I definitely learned an unforgettable lesson when I read and fell in love with Stephen King’s It, which is about a supernatural killer clown that lives in the sewer. (See my blog post “Clowning Around.”)

I learned that if it walks like a killer clown, talks like a killer clown, and acts like a killer clown, it probably is a killer clown, whether we’re talking about the road-rager who just cut you off on the highway, or the person who shouts at people in the street, or the politician lying their pants off on the news.

Watch out for those killer clowns, America.

#happybirthdayStephenKing

Categories
Travel

How Many More Summers?

“NOTHING FUNNY ABOUT TIME”

Don’t count your summers. Live them.

9/20/23

There’s a reason songwriters choose to write about summer more than any other season. That’s because summer holds a very special place in our hearts. For example, if you take “summertime” out of the lyrics of Will Smith’s famous song and substitute “autumn time,” it’s just not the same song. More than any other time, we anticipate the arrival of summer and seek to fill it with memories.

Families with children know what I mean. Those golden days of summer are meant for playtime, July 4th, barbecues, days at the beach, and trips to fun places. We count the days until the kids have to go back to school. But no one ever counts the summers, especially those of us who’ve seen the majority of them.

Donna and I were talking about something she read, about people who measure the passage of time not in years but in summers. It cast a whole new light on the numbers and gave me a new appreciation for summer.

She also told me about a conversation she had with a good friend of ours. He suffered a loss this week. A friend that he’s known forever suddenly passed away from a heart attack. Even though we understand that tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone, such losses can have us questioning so much about how we spend our time. This weekend (September 23) marks the end of another summer. I say, it’s time to stop putting stuff off.

It’s up to you to figure out the best ways to spend your remaining summers, but here’s some prevailing advice that I agree with:

Take some risks. If you haven’t done it yet, do that side hustle, start a business, run that marathon, write that book… or blog!

Take time to travel. Yes, cruises count.

Take your money and spend it. Spend it on experiences instead of stuff. Make memories with friends and family.

Take care of your health. Go to the dentist. Get your exercise. Eat well. 

If there’s something you’ve been longing to do, do it. And if the things you’re doing don’t add value to your life, don’t waste any more of your precious summers on them. Use your head.

As Socrates once said: Wonder is the beginning of wisdom.

And if that doesn’t get you motivated, just remember another bit of age-old advice from Funny Travel Tales: It’s NFL Time!

#Ijusthadtogoandruinthemood

Categories
Travel

Bear On the Loose At Disney

“EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!”

This is not a drill!

9/19/23

I can’t tell you when my relationship with bears began. In other words, I have no relationship with bears. The closest I’ve ever been to a bear is when I worked at the American Automobile Association in Heathrow, FL. I saw it in a parking lot as I was walking to my car. (See my blog post “Animals Gone Wild.”)

When I reported the bear to security, I expected a SWAT squad to appear with tranquilizer guns. After the bear was relocated, I reckoned I’d receive a commendation for my bravery in, you know, spotting the bear.

But that’s not what happened. I was basically told to go away and stop harassing the bear. That’s because black bears are protected in Florida by the Bear Conservation Rule, which states that it’s illegal to “take, possess, injure, shoot, collect or sell black bears or their parts or to attempt to engage in such conduct except as authorized by the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission rule or by permit from the Commission.”

But, apparently, other peoplefor example, people with moneyhave the power to make bears go away, even when they’re just peacefully hanging out in trees, which is exactly what happened yesterday when a black bear was spotted at Disney (yep, the same Disney with a net worth of  $156.59B).

A representative from the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission said, “In most cases, it is best for bears to be given space and to move along on their own, but given this situation, staff have captured the animal and are relocating the bear out of the park to an area in or around the Ocala National Forest.”

No word on whether a Disney bus was used to transport the bear, which was a female, but I’m sure the animal received VIP treatment, even though the bear sighting caused parts of Disney’s Magic Kingdom to temporarily shut down. Speculation is that the bear was likely in the theme park looking for food. During fall, which starts on Saturday, bears look for food and eat up to 20,000 calories a day to pack on fat reserves for winter.

Yet when I ask for free samples, I’m escorted from the park. How fair is that? I heard a rumor that as soon as word got out that a wild female bear was on the premises, Baloo the Bear climbed out of his costume at Disney’s Animal Kingdom. Whether it was mating season or not, I’m sure he wasn’t taking any chances.

#I’minthemoodforlove