Hidden Mickey 5: Chasing New Frontiers

by David Smith

  Just as he was passing the Mansion’s exit without seeing anyone who might have been the letter-writer in the vicinity, he saw a female security guard walking along the main path towards Critter Country. Blain had seen the attractive guard a number of times patrolling the area. The dark brown-haired guard was wearing a Critter Country security outfit, dark brown corduroy skort with a tan blouse that was tucked into the waistband. A walkie-talkie was attached to her belt and a thin wire ran up to an ear bud. As he walked past the tall security guard, Blain smiled at her but was more preoccupied in looking for someone that might be looking for him.

  The guard smiled back.

  “So, I guess you don’t want your birthday gift after all, Blain?”

  Blain pulled up and turned around. “Excuse me?” he said as he turned and faced the brunette. He looked at her name tag which read “Janette”.

  “I guess you aren’t interested in the present I had for you.”

  Blain smiled, realizing that Janette must have been the note-writer. It was a pleasant surprise.

  “How can I turn down a birthday present?” Blain asked, now playing along. “That would be just rude of me, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes, it would,” Janette replied, and then added, “Follow me.” It was a statement, not a choice that she gave him. Blain was thinking that she was probably very good at her job.

  Walking behind Janette, Blain casually was observing her walk, enjoying the gentle sway of her hips and long, sexy legs that moved under the chocolate-brown material of her costume. She walked back toward the exit to the Haunted Mansion weaving expertly between guests as she led Blain against the flow of exiting traffic. She looked over her shoulder back at Blain and said, “I hope you like what I got you.”

  “How did you know it was my birthday?”

  Janette smiled and tapped her walkie-talkie. “I have friends in Admin.”

  “Ah,” Blain said but didn’t ask her anything else.

  Blain didn’t know what to expect, only that he was intrigued by the obvious outgoing personality of Janette as she led him to the ride exit. He had never gone into the ride through the exit and Blain was puzzled as to where Janette was taking him.

  Blain was certainly not shy among his fellow co-workers, but he also was aloof when it came to the females of the Park. Since he was still new, he didn’t feel comfortable approaching any of the girls working there for dates. But now, he was thinking, maybe he didn’t have to. Of course, he also thought there was a chance he was being set up for some prank. He still couldn’t tell.

  Janette was long legged and while she certainly possessed feminine features, she was a good candidate for security, especially if you were looking to hire a female to maintain security. Blain had seen the way she patrolled the New Orleans area with a confident walk, and a look that seemed to command respect. She was obviously older than Blain, probably in her late twenties or even early thirties, Blain figured. Older or not, Janette was very attractive.

  Blain also noticed she didn’t have a ring on her left hand.

  Before reaching the actual structure where guests came out of the ride, Janette turned to the right and came to an iron gate off the exit.

  “Ever been back here?” Janette asked looking back at Blain who was watching her reach her hand inside the bars of the gate where he saw her fingers push up on a secret button under the latch mechanism.

  “Can’t say that I’ve ever been given a tour of this part of Haunted Mansion,” Blain replied as Janette pushed open the gate. “Afraid I’ve only taken the nickel tour, just like the guests.”

  A few curious tourists looked at the mismatched, costumed pair, watching the two cast members who obviously didn’t look like they worked that particular attraction; Blain in a canoe costume, her in a Critter Country security guard outfit. The mystique of seeing two people, like Blain and Janette, walking into a mysterious behind-the-scenes area, only added fuel to rumors that there were secret passages beyond the areas which the guests were allowed.

  As Blain was about to find out first hand, indeed there were.

  Janette held the gate open for Blain who followed her through. As she closed the gate and made sure it latched shut, Janette said, “You are in for a treat.”

  Blain’s narrow gaze of Janette’s sly smile told Blain his ‘treat’ was not on any official tour program or was part of the Haunted Mansion ride itself.

  There was a concrete walking path that went straight for a few feet then turned left for ten feet before branching in two directions. Straight ahead, the path continued to the corner of the Mansion and then turned left it where it skirted the back of the Haunted Mansion and led to a back door where a break area for the ride operators was located. The short path that branched to their right led to an obscure structure that resembled a crypt—had the small, squat building actually been in a cemetery.

  Instead of following the path straight ahead, Janette walked the few steps to her right and reached out for a large, round metal ring, hanging in place of a handle on the door of the small crypt-like structure.

  “This way,” Janette said opening the door and walking through it.

  As Blain entered the door, he glanced back out the way they had come, seeing still a few curious guests standing in front of the metal gate they had come through, watching. He smiled to himself, knowing the questions that were probably formulating in the heads of those guests.

  Letting the door close behind himself, Blain was surprised to find himself standing on a ten-foot deep landing that then led to steps that descended at a steep angle underground. Janette had moved towards the first step that led down. Blain saw that the walls surrounding them were painted bright white, a striking contrast to the dark, foreboding olive green exterior of the mansion and the dark, surrounding foliage.

  “This is bizarre,” Blain said, taking in the bright interior walls leading down the dozen steps. A hallway looked like it extended beyond the last steps, its destination blocked by the sloping ceiling above the stairs. It reminded Blain a little like being in a hospital stairway; clean, almost shiny white walls, concrete floor that was polished smooth, an almost sterile appearance. He was curious where the hallway led out beyond the last steps. It was obvious that the passageway led deeper underground, under the foundation of the Haunted Mansion structure.

  “Kinda weird, isn’t it?” Janette said, stepping down onto the first step. “Blain, come here.”

  Looking at Janette, Blain smiled. “Uh, yes?” He wasn’t sure what was coming, but he was certain nothing bad would happen to him here. On the contrary, he was most curious as to what Janette had in store for him.

  Blain walked over to where she stood; Janette was close to six foot three, and she had legs that seemed to make up almost half that height. Add one-inch heels on her shoes and she was a good two inches taller than Blain. Her crushed, brushed denim skort came up at mid-thigh; certainly modest, especially within the conservative Disney tradition. But, even within such moderate costume design, Janette’s long legs had a striking sexiness to them. With Blain on the step above hers, their eyes were almost level with each other.

  Janette had intriguing eyes that suddenly hinted of mystery and intent. “Happy birthday, Blain,” she whispered to him as she reached up and put her arms around his neck. Lowering her mouth to his, Janette gently kissed Blain, her lips unhurriedly closed in on his. Blain felt the warmth, wetness, and underlying desire that the kiss beguiled him with.

  While Janette took Blain completely by surprise, he reciprocated her kiss, certainly enjoying the spontaneity of the moment. Blain put his hands on her waist, his fingers feeling her curves down along her hips. A gentle shift, they moved against each other, Janette leaning into his embrace.

  After a moment, Janette backed off but kept her arms around his shoulders. “I know I’m being rather forward,” she said without any hint of apology.

  “Nooo,” Blain said with mock authenticity. “I get this all the time,” Blain said, then t
ook his left hand off her waist for a moment to look at his watch. “In fact, I’m due for another birthday kiss from one of the girls at the French Market in ten minutes,” Blain joked.

  Janette laughed. “French Market, eh?” Janette took Blain’s hand and placed it back on her hip. “I guess I better hurry…I certainly don’t want you to be late.”

  It was Blain’s turn to laugh. “Oh, I’m sure she won’t mind waiting a while longer.” Blain then pulled Janette back toward him.

  Blain and Janette returned to the Haunted Mansion exit and passed through the gate with the secret latch and melded into the crowd of people who were milling about the area. Blain turned to his left towards the canoes, Janette to her right.

  “Hey, Janette,” Blain called back.

  Janette turned and smiled. “Yes, Blain?”

  “Thanks for the present. Can’t wait for my next birthday.”

  Janette smiled. “Might not have to wait that long,” she said, and then added, “You should see how I celebrate the Fourth of July.”

  Blain laughed. “I’ll bring my lounge chair.”

  Janette smiled, “Happy birthday, Blain.”

  “Thank you, Janette. See you later.”

  * * * * * *

  Blain, walking through the Park and past the Haunted Mansion today, he was thinking back to that moment with Janette. The memory of that “First Disney Kiss” still brought a smile to his face, even now, one year later. He looked at his watch as saw it was almost ten. He picked up his pace so he wouldn’t be late for his shift on the canoes.

  11:45am

  “Okay, let’s stop splashing,” Blain said as he stood up in the front of the canoe, addressing some junior high girls who were doing very little paddling and a lot of splashing with their wooden paddles sitting in the first two seats of the canoe. Blain arched his back, feeling his now-wet shirt clinging to his skin. While it was quite warm for June, the large trailing wet streak along Blain’s back, courtesy of the two girls who were sitting behind him, was still an annoying shock when a large splash hit him. The girls, who were no more than thirteen, looked like a pair of disobedient puppies who knew they had done wrong.

  “We…are…sooo…sorry,” said the girl in the front seat to the right of Blain, her eyes wide with both fear and attraction; she was pleased the canoe guide with the large arms and charming smile, handsome face, and whose nametag labeled him as “Blain” was now facing her and her friends. Ignoring the fact that Blain was considerably older than the three girls, they had tried to get Blain’s attention while in line waiting for his canoe. Drew Gregory, the dock foreman on the ride that afternoon had rolled his eyes when the girls specifically asked to wait for “The canoe with the blond haired guy.” Drew knew exactly who they were talking about, even though there were three guys working the ride that day with blond hair.

  “You girls know that ‘blond haired guy’ you seem so intent on meeting is twenty-three years old,” Drew asked as the girls were waiting in the queue area on the loading dock.

  “Yeah, so?” the precocious young teenager said as if she didn’t see a problem.

  Drew had just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

  The girl sitting next to her friend who had apologized for splashing Blain was covering her mouth in an ‘I-can’t-believe-we-just-did-that’ expression plastered on her face. A third girl, the one behind the other two, sitting alone on her canoe seat, Blain observed, was actually plastered with more water than he was; her hair was wet and water was streaking down her forehead and cheeks. Compared to the splash he had received on his back, the third girl must have caught a heaping of river-water from one or both of her friends in front of her.

  Blain kept a straight, serious look on his face even though the look on the girl’s faces made him want to laugh out loud. “Well, it looks like your friend got the worst of it,” Blain said nodding at the girl behind the front pair.

  “Carly! What happened?” One of the girls in front exclaimed as she turned around in her seat looking over her wet friend sitting behind her.

  Carly looked down at her tank top and was a little embarrassed by the fact her top was now very wet.

  Blain just shook his head. “I hate these junior high graduation days,” he muttered to himself then addressed the other thirteen passengers in the canoe in an authoritative voice, “Okay folks. Let’s put the pedal to the metal and start paddling.” Blain was about to sit back down when he looked down the river behind the canoe. He then said to the canoe guests, “And if any of you need a little encouragement, just take a look behind our canoe.” All sixteen guests in the canoe simultaneously looked back and saw the giant steamship “Mark Twain” moving toward them. While the sight of the large, white, three-decked steamship was ominous, Blain knew that the ship actually traveled so slow that even if no one on the canoe paddled, he and the canoe operator in the back could easily paddle the canoe faster than the larger vessel. However, the ruse worked and everyone on the canoe suddenly sprang to life and began to dig in, albeit a most unsynchronized attempt at paddling as a group.

  As the canoe began to glide faster, Blain turned back to the front of the canoe, ignoring the three girls behind him who were trying to get his attention as only thirteen year old girls could do. Blain sat down and dug in, taking long, slow, deep drags in the river with his paddle, making the canoe propel forward even faster. His strong, muscular arms, back and shoulders were more interesting to the girls than any of the scenery they were passing. The front girl nudged her friend with a knowing look as they admired Blain’s physique from behind. The one whispered something to the other and they both giggled while continuing to paddle.

  After another five minutes, when the trio of girls figured out that Blain was seriously not interested in them, they frowned and started to paddle more diligently with the rest of the guests, with a look of resignation etched across their faces. They suddenly wanted to get off the now “dumb ride” and see if they could scope out some boys on one of the other attractions.

  The next trip around Tom Sawyer Island, Blain was in the back of the canoe and Darren Stafford, his partner for the day, was now in front giving the spiel about how to hold the paddle, followed by a short discourse on how to paddle including the most important advice of, “keeping the river in the river and not in the laps of the person behind them” drawing a few laughs from the guests.

  For Blain, as the rear steering member, the trip was much easier than being the front guide who was responsible for not only spieling along the trip but also for paddling the majority of the ride…which, in most cases, was paddling the majority of the weight of the canoe since most guests were either too uncoordinated or simply too lazy to paddle. And, some guests actually believed the canoes were on some track being pulled along by a cable or that there was a motor underneath the back of the boat.

  As the rear guide, Blain could paddle if needed, but mainly he used his paddle as a rudder, guiding the canoe along the river wherever he wanted. For the most part, Blain could sit back, slip off his moccasins and put his bare feet up on the empty seat in front of him or hang one over the rail trailing his toes in the water, and basically soak up the sun.

  Passing what used to be the burning settler’s cabin on the right—now a ‘politically correct’ intact cabin with a small garden in front—Blain and Darren’s canoe glided along with a relatively well-coordinated group of guests. Further up on the left was the Pinewood Indian Village, “Called the Pinewood Indian Village because…that is what they are made out of, pinewood,” Darren described to the guests in the canoe. Laughing at Darren’s deadpan joke some slowed their paddling or even stopped; a few took out cameras and began clicking off pictures of one of the oldest scenes in Disneyland. The village featured teepees that were lined in a semi-circle around a central fire pit, a buffalo hide that was strung up on a wooden frame between two teepees and small, wooden canoes that were tied up along the shore. A young Indian boy mannequin was poised on the bank of the river nea
r the canoes with a perpetual gaze on his face. Old “animatronic” Indian figures around the village were depicting Indian life eons ago; they could be seen with archaic mechanical movements of arms or heads that were probably no different than when Walt Disney had the village first placed there after the original “live” Indian Village was moved out of what would be New Orleans Square.

  Blain looked at the village, as he had done hundreds of times before, feeling a little reflective, remembering the same scene as a kid when his parents would take him to Disneyland. Nothing had changed in at least twenty years, Blain figured, as he steered the canoe to the right around the bend and away from the village. In fact, the “Pinewood Indian Village” had not been changed since it was first added to the river scenery well over forty-five years ago. If anything, the village now seemed smaller to Blain as the trees that served as a backdrop to the scene were now full and very, very tall. Blain remembered seeing pictures of the village and how the teepees were all about the same height as the surrounding trees. Today, the pines and birches that now grew like a curtain of green behind the village stood well over thirty feet tall.

  Darren had given the guests a little encouragement to resume paddling and they moved at a steady pace around the back side of Tom Sawyer Island, passing now, on their right, the ‘Ancient Injun Burial Grounds,’ “where just the other day, I saw them bury a V-8” Darren joked with dry humor that about half the guests in the canoe got. The sounds of civilization could now be heard as the canoe rounded another bend and came up on the suspension and barrel bridges where kids were happily playing and running on and around.