I’m headed to Orlando to see The Mouse. My flight is scheduled to take off just after midnight and land in Chicago at 6 a.m., followed by a three-hour layover and another 3 hour flight. Needless to say, it will be a long 12 hour journey, followed by the hectic pace of two grandchildren. I will enjoy reliving some of my childhood fantasies about space, pirates, castles, knights, magic, fireworks, and adventure. It’s about as daring of an outdoor experience that I’m willing to risk, and probably the only place on earth where I would climb a mountain or go on a safari. I’ve been there dozens of times from the time it was built in 1971, including my 50th Birthday celebration with Eeyore thanks to my current wife. Eeyore and all the popular Disney characters joined me for lunch at the Crystal Palace. My son has gone since he was a baby, and as a current Florida resident, holds a family annual pass. It was a frequent stop when my former wife and I were in the floral business as we would fill our van with plants from nearby greenhouses and walk the park all day before the 20-hour drive back to Indiana. I especially enjoy the “Pirates of the Caribbean,” ride at Walt Disney World, and will avoid “It’s A Small World,” where several family members of mine were once trapped for hours inside, forced to listen to that annoying song over and over again.

I’m currently watching the History Channel series, Knightfall, a look at the final days of Knights Templar during the 14th Century. I’ve always been fascinated by brave knights in shining armor and the quest for the Holy Grail. These were manly men who fought battles with heavy swords, weighted down by protective steel body suits. I have trouble moving comfortably in a winter coat, let alone 15 to 25 pounds of extra weight. Even carrying a backpack is a cumbersome task for me, as is the suitcase that I’ll be lugging around the airport later today. As I watch these knights in action, their efforts “in the interest of God” to protect and perhaps eventually hide the grail has led to history’s greatest treasure hunt. The other History Channel program that I am currently watching.,The Curse of Oak Island, is a modern day quest for this same treasure that has consumed the lives of two brothers and all of their financial resources. It’s one of those shows that is best watched with the remote in the fast-forward mode, since the same information is repeated over and over throughout the five seasons. Key pieces to the puzzle have been found, including ties to the Knights Templar, but the mystery persists in the interest of “good” television. Who doesn’t love a good treasure hunt?

I enjoyed my weekly Leadership Meeting at Buffalo Wild Wings and stopped by the library afterwards to pick up the DVD of Empire of the Air, another Ken Burn’s documentary about the industry that earned me my retirement pension. Today’s surprise “guest speaker” at lunch was the Production Manager for the radio station where I finished my career. The “guest speaker” is really just someone that is not a regular attendee, so this assures us that it won’t be a repeat of the same conversation from the prior Friday. Our discussion today centered around “what could go wrong?” on the job (See Post #113). It reminded me of a promotion that I was involved in coordinating with the release of the odd movie “Polyester,” from John Waters back in 1981. Our radio station gave away tickets on the air to listeners for what was billed as “scentsational,” the “first movie that really stinks.” It starred Devine as housewife Francine Fishpaw, and Tab Hunter as lounge-lizard Todd Tomorrow. The gimmick was an Odorama scratch-and-sniff card that was presented to everyone in attendance, similar to the distribution of 3-D glasses. When I first arrived at the theater, it was obvious that dishonest winners had made additional copies of the passes and that ticket-takers had not paid attention to the red station stamp on the back to prevent such forgery, so unfortunately the lobby was packed and well over capacity. The manager of the theater happened to be dating the production manager of our station at the time, so she was more than cooperative in accommodating everyone, and quickly added additional presentations of the movie. Once everyone was seated, numbers 1-10 would flash on the screen during the movie and audience members would then scratch-off that corresponding circle on their Odorama card.  The resulting scent would then immediately permeate the air, adding a unique dimension to the viewing experience. The first few odors were pleasant like pine and pizza, however, when a dozen roses was presented on the screen and the number started to flash, a pair of ratty old sneakers was deviously swapped, and the audience reacted with a  moan. From that point on participants were reluctant to scratch, especially when a toilet scene filled the screen. When all was said and done, fragrances of model airplane glue, gasoline, a skunk, natural gas, air freshener, leather car seats, and even flatulence  were each released. It was a one-of-a-kind experience, as the movie itself really did stink. Years later, the theater manager let me know that she found numerous boxes of the cards in the attic, since the box office numbers weren’t great. We both got a laugh out of the memory, and I shared the story with the Leadership group.  We also had some good laughs about our experiences at the station here in Portland.

I hope I get a better movie on the flight tonight and that fellow passengers refrain from taking off their shoes, subjecting all of us to an Odorama-like experience. I’m also planning to get some sleep on the plane in preparation for being Disney grandpa this weekend. Meanwhile, my wife can catch-up on her lack of sleep from playing nursemaid to her sick mother last week, and spend some time with our pups at home. It’s another “divide and conquer” effort involved in any marriage. She would love to join me at Walt Disney World, where we’ve shared many enjoyable vacation days. Unfortunately, she has to work next week, so her “knight in tarnished armor” will be on his own for a few days.