Sometimes Dead Men DO Tell Tales!

by David W. Smith

  “Well, I led them to the Keel Boat dock, figuring it was time for the Gullywhumper to come back. We didn’t have to wait long. I could hear the banjo music and the pilot asking everyone to remain seated while she tried to dock the boat so it ‘wouldn’t keel and somebody get keeled’. Then she added something about women drivers and ‘why do you think they call them Keel Boats’ which had everybody laughing. Well, the boat barely nudged the dock as she landed it just as soft as anyone could. She reminded the passengers, ‘Those of you comin’ up from the bottom, watch yer top. And those of you comin’ down from the top watch yer….uh…watch yer step, yeah, watch yer step.’ When the last person was gone, she took off her hat to wipe her face with the sleeve of her shirt. I saw two things at that moment: the prettiest brown eyes I’ve ever seen…and her nametag said her name was Beth.” Adam stared into the fire, the corners of his mouth turned up in a private smile.

  “She must have noticed me standing there staring at her ‘cause she gave me a cute little smile. She told me later they were trained to smile sweetly at the guests.” He didn’t mention it felt like a bolt of lightning hit him squarely in the chest.

  “Well,” he continued, “we all took the next boat, but it was Beth’s turn to be on the dock. Our new guide wasn’t near as funny as Beth. But, I didn’t care. As we passed the Hungry Bear, I gave a little wave to Bruce the Moose. When we got back, Beth wasn’t on the dock. Talk about disappointment! One of the blondes had to go ‘fix her face’ as she put it, so we headed for the restrooms over by the train station. Well, I was standing outside waiting for Lance and the girls and who do you think walks out of the ladies room? It was Beth. Now, I’m not usually forward with women, but I had to say something. Her head was down so I stepped in front of her so she’d run into me. She turned all red and said ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.’ I said ‘Obviously’ or something stupid like that. She tried to go around me but I stepped in front of her again. Before she kicked me, I quickly explained how much I liked her spiel. That perked her right up. She gave me that cute little smile again and thanked me and told me to come back and see her again some time.”

  “And you did, didn’t you?”

  Adam gave a sigh. “Well, the blondes wanted more of Lance and less of me, so they wanted to go to the Haunted Mansion. I knew I’d be stuck in a doom buggy all by myself so I wished them a good ride and headed back to the Keel Boats.”

  “Was she glad to see you?”

  “Well, I asked her out for the following night and she said yes. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

  “So, what happened to Lance and his blondes?”

  Adam shrugged. “Never saw them again. Lance never said a word, but, that’s Lance.”

  “How’d he like Beth?”

  “Totally smitten. They started bantering like an old married couple. Had me worried there for a while until I saw they’d always be good friends and nothing more.”

  “Not what you hoped for yourself, right?”

  “Heck no! Did I ever tell you about the night she stole a canoe and we went on a picnic on Tom Sawyer Island?” Adam sat back with a grin. “And that, my friend, was only the beginning!”

  SPRING, 2002

  “Holy Crap!”

  Ducking into an empty stall in the men’s room, Adam hurriedly locked the door. Silently apologizing for the ruined cushion and his impromptu hiding place, he pulled the leather-bound book out of his shorts. It was old leather, cracked with age, the black color having faded to a dark gray. There was no embossing or markings on the outside cover, front or back. The binding was about three quarters of an inch thick, but the way the front edges came together showed some pages were missing.

  His heart—which still hadn’t returned to its normal beat—pounded harder as he opened the stiff cover. Immediately he saw what he had guessed was correct: There were numerous pages that had been ripped out of the front of the book. The first four yellowed pages proved to be blank. He slowly turned through these empty pages until he found writing. His eyes widened as he began reading the first page.

  “Holy Crap!”

  FOUR HOURS EARLIER

  Seated in the Fantasyland Theater that early Sunday morning were two hundred and twenty participants this year’s Mouse Adventure—a unique and rambunctious romp through Disneyland by dozens of teams in what is fondly described as a cross between a scavenger hunt and a car rally—only on foot. The enthusiastic participants were already divided into seventy teams for this spring’s running of the race. The vast majority of runners were Disney aficionados, people who immersed themselves in all things Disney. The Mouse Adventure was a sort of proving ground to tout their knowledge—and subsequent bragging rights for those who won their divisions. The majority of the teams came from Southern California. However, the event drew many avid fans from all corners of the country.

  The teams began gathering right after Disneyland opened at 8 a.m. to scope out the competition and impatiently wait for the race to begin. Off to the side of the stage was Mickey Mouse dressed in safari gear. A group picture was attempted at 9 a.m. And at 9:15. It proved difficult to get two hundred and twenty people all facing in the same direction at the same time and not talking. At 9:30, the emcee, Steve, welcomed them as quest packets were passed out. The quests were divided into two levels: Beginner and Advanced. First-time questers were encouraged to start at the Beginner level. Returning questers usually did the more difficult Advanced level.

  Steve quickly ran down the rules, reminding the teams that they had until 3 p.m. to run as many quests as they could. They could only use the Disneyland Park souvenir map given to all the guests entering at the main entrance turnstiles for reference—no hand-held devices, notes or cell phones. Team members had to stay within ten feet of each other at all times. There would be no asking the Park’s cast members for help—as they have been known to give out wrong answers. Yes, there were Mouse Adventure people throughout the Park to watch for any breach in the rules. Steve reminded them to have their answer sheets turned in at the Opera House on Main Street before the 3 p.m. deadline because the doors locked at 3:01.

  The teams were already leafing through the twelve pages of quests, plotting their strategy, and Steve knew this would be a good, competitive year. However, his eyes kept going back to a team off to the side. Teams were allowed four people maximum. Here was a group of five—four women and one man. The women had on identical bright blue T-shirts with Team Bad News Canoes screen-printed on the front. The man, in a brown polo shirt, was obviously not on their team. Steve made one last announcement:

  “Just a reminder, people, that there is no fraternizing between the teams, either…. That means you, Team Pecos Bills. Last warning.”

  When he heard his team’s name mentioned, Adam Michaels’ head shot up from the quest he was reading. “What the……” His race partner, Lance Brentwood, was not next to him. The pile of papers Adam had given him to sort sat on the bench untouched. Half-standing from his bench, Adam tried frantically to locate his partner. He finally spotted Lance as he was ambling back to his seat.

  “What do you think you’re doing!?” Adam’s words came out in a hiss when Lance was close enough to hear.

  Lance looked totally unrepentant. He grinned over at the group of women who were still blushing furiously. Whether it was from being singled out for the warning or from whatever Lance had just said to them, Adam had no idea. Lance gave them a final wave as he sat back down and picked up the Trivia page. “Did you see that redhead?”

  Adam cut him off. “Are you trying to get us kicked out of the race before it even starts? Sheesh, Lance, I....” Adam glanced back at the women and, more specifically, the redhead who easily stood out. “Wow, she is cute.” He sounded almost apologetic.

  “Got her number.” Lance reached for a piece of paper he had stuffed in his shirt pocket.

  Adam stopped his arm. “Leave it. We’re still being watched.”

  Lance shrugged, unconcerned, his focus
already back on the race. “Hey, it looks like we get to go into Club 33 and Walt’s apartment this year.” In almost the same breath, he changed the subject. “Do you know how many carrousel horses there are?”

  “We do? Wow, I’ve never been in either of them!” Adam’s head jerked up towards the stage. “Wait a minute, what did Steve just say?”

  “‘Have fun’,” Lance quoted, his eyes on one of the Word Jumbles.

  “No, before that. I think he said something about Walt’s apartment.”

  “Dunno. Hey Adam, look at this.” Lance pointed at a two-word jumble. “Trust Sora. That has to be Star Tours.”

  The two men looked up when a rousing cheer broke from everyone around them. It was 10 a.m. The Race was on!

  With no set pattern, the runners could do any quest in any order. As the crowd surged out of the Fantasyland Theater, some turned left and headed for either ToonTown or the Disneyland Railroad station. The majority turned right and headed toward Matterhorn Mountain. The mountain would be the dividing place for the rest of the Park. Those going to Tomorrowland would go left around the mountain. Fantasyland was off to the right. Main Street was straight ahead. Frontierland and Adventureland would veer off to the right from the Main Street Hub.

  Adam and Lance were speed-walking toward Sleeping Beauty Castle. “How about Critter Country first? There’s a multiple-choice question there and a Canoe Quest where we ride the canoes and collect a token to turn in with the answer sheets. It’s worth eighty points. It might be a good idea to get the canoes out of the way early and not have to go that far into the Park later in the day.”

  Passing Ariel’s Grotto and the Main Street Hub, Lance had a grin on his face. “Want to do Walt’s Apartment before we head to the canoes?” He was watching a particular group of bright blue shirts heading down Main Street.

  A lot of racers headed in that direction, moving against the flow of Disneyland guests coming up Main Street from the entrance. Adam quickly shuffled through the papers and looked over that quest. He grunted and shook his head. “Well, they only let in two teams at a time. We’d probably have to wait a long time. Let’s come back later.”

  With a good-natured shrug, Lance took the Canoe Quest sheet from Adam and looked it over, reading aloud the questions: “How many seats in a canoe? How many riders can a canoe hold? The canoes have been in how many different lands since they started running? Name them.”

  “So, do you count the canoe guides or is it just passengers?” Adam led them through the Frontierland stockade gate and past the Shootin’ Exposition.

  “Probably a trick question. I’d include the guides.” They were now passing the Golden Horseshoe. Unlike the thousands of guests who visited the Park, Adam and Lance barely took notice of their surroundings. To their right, the Mark Twain Riverboat was loading passengers for her trip around Tom Sawyer Island. The large white Disney icon sat pristine at her dock, paddlewheel rotating slowly to maintain the mooring ropes tight as people embarked. The Sailing Ship Columbia, with three tall masts and authentic rigging, was berthed just beyond the old Keel Boat dock and would come out later in the day if the Park became busier. This full-scale replica of the first ship to carry the American flag around the world was an afterthought of Walt’s. Looking over the busy river with his Frontierland manager, the manager thought Walt was going to criticize the number of objects moving people around Tom Sawyer Island: the Mark Twain, two keel boats, six canoes, and three Tom Sawyer Island rafts. Instead, Walt had insisted that what the river needed was “another BIG boat.”

  Adam and Lance moved quickly along the riverfront, avoiding the growing line in front of Pirates of the Caribbean and dodging families taking pictures along the river. The smell of popcorn permeated the air as the men passed the brightly-painted cart just past the French Quarter restaurant. Lance was tempted to stop and buy some as his slender frame was just a front for a voracious appetite.

  To their right, laughter came from a canoe half full of sporadic-paddling guests as they splashed by on the Frontierland river—also known as Rivers of America. Four of the passengers, two seated in front of the other two, all teenage girls, were engaged in a water fight with their paddles. Smiling to himself, Adam glanced at the sky. It was a beautiful spring day. The low morning coastal clouds were in the process of burning off and the temperature would probably settle around a warm eighty-degree high.

  Bringing his mind back to the quest, Adam thought about the canoes. “What about the different lands?” He saw that Lance was reading a different quest. “The canoes are in Critter Country now. It was called Bear Country before that,” Adam ticked off on his fingers. “That’s two. What was it before Bear Country?”

  Having just passed the Haunted Mansion, Lance’s attention was drawn to the screamers on Splash Mountain. A log was just starting its fifty-two-foot plunge with the riders either holding their hands up in the air or holding on for dear life. “I’m not sure. Did the Indian Village count as a land?”

  “No, that was just part of Frontierland.” Intent on the quest, Adam was oblivious to the plunging log of screaming guests. “Oh, I guess that’s the answer. Frontierland would be the first actual location. I’ll write down 3.”

  The entrance into Critter Country was striking with the reddish orange rockwork of Splash Mountain on their left and the granite façade separating Fowler’s Harbor on the right. Years ago, this area was the entrance to Bear Country. Before Splash Mountain was built, the area had been the low-key area of the Park with most guests only entering the land out of curiosity or for the musical attraction, The Country Bear Jamboree. Now closed and boarded up with a new attraction being built inside, Adam knew the Jamboree was still a popular attraction at Walt Disney World on the east coast. Adam felt a wave of nostalgia as he had enjoyed the show when it was operating.

  No other teams were seen as they entered the ramp going down to the canoe dock. Lance looked over longingly at the two-story Hungry Bear Restaurant just beyond the exit of the ride. “Fries?” Always hungry, always hopeful.

  “No time. Didn’t you eat breakfast?”

  “Yes, but I might give out on the trip around the island. Paddling’s a lot of work, you know,” he tried beseechingly, all the time knowing his big brown eyes and dimples had no chance of swaying Adam away from his determined path. That tactic usually only worked on his female friends.

  “Poor baby.” Adam was unimpressed. “You’re taller than me. Look over the people in line and see if you can count the number of seats in the canoes.”

  While they waited in the short line for Davy Crockett’s Explorer Canoes, Lance counted the number of seats: twelve. When the full canoe pulled away, the first seat behind the front guide was purposely left empty, so there were eighteen guests and two cast members as ride operators. Lance totaled the two lines and filled in the final answer as twenty riders before he grabbed a paddle and got into his assigned seat. Because of his 6’ 2” height, he was positioned in the back near the cast member steering the canoe. Adam was a few rows in front of him, the race papers stashed in a protective cover.

  Using the tow ropes, the two guides pulled the canoe to the end of the loading dock and gave the passengers a quick lesson in paddling. “Raise your paddle over your head, flat end over the water…not over your partner’s face….” The front guide drew a few laughs as he demonstrated how to cup the end of the paddle with one hand and where to place the other hand near the business end of the paddle. “On the count of three, reach forward, pulling the water toward the back of the canoe…and not into the lap of the person behind you!”

  Away from the dock, they floated slowly past the lower level of the Hungry Bear Restaurant where guests were enjoying an early lunch. When a French fry flew over his head, Adam looked over at the tables. Three laughing young women, probably in some sorority, were hurling French fries to the smiling, encouraging Lance. About half of the fries hit their intended destination; those that fell short of the canoe—and Lance—were fought
over by the flock of well-fed black mud hens and mallard ducks that always hovered around the restaurant. Kids hanging over the rope railing were enamored by the ducks. The three women were more interested in Lance. Adam just shook his head. He had to admit Lance had his ways.

  Once they got out of throwing range of the women and Lance remembered they were on a race, he dug in with his paddle. The canoe shot forward. Mike, the guide in the back, chuckled at Lance. “I like it when you Mouse Adventure guys ride. Less work for us!”

  They rounded the first bend, nearing the Settler’s Cabin. Tony, the front guide, was standing, facing the guests. “Off to our left,” pointing out a solitary Native American sitting on a spotted horse, “is Chief Auto Parts. Looks like he traded in his old bronco and got himself a new mustang.” Next they slid past the Settler’s Cabin. “We’re now approaching the dangerous Keel Boat Rapids.” Adam gave a sigh at the name of the rapids. Don’t go there. Don’t look at the cabin, his mind warned him. Focus! Guide Tony continued, with dead-panned, mock seriousness. “Careful we don’t hit any rocks ‘cause we might just keel over and somebody might get keeled!” They rounded the bend in the river across from the Pinewood Indian Village—“because that’s what they are made of—Pine Wood” and the riders were given a break from paddling. After floating past the wrecked Mine Train on the left, they dug in again—much to the delight of the people on Tom Sawyer Island who were shouting helpful suggestions. “Stroke!” one teenager yelled. “You’re going to have a stroke!” His buddy next to him added, “Take the Mark Twain next time! You see the same stuff!”

  As the canoe rounded the final bend and headed toward the canoe dock, they passed the rafts crisscrossing each other, taking people to and from Tom Sawyer Island.