When I was nine years old, I asked my dad for a new aluminum baseball bat that I’d been eyeing for weeks at the local sporting goods store. Since this was obviously a very long time ago—depressingly long ago, in fact—it would be reasonable to wonder why I would remember this bat. Believe me, this was one sexy baseball bat.
When the large, rickety van that would take us to the docks of the famous Yellow Water Cruise splashed through the flooded parking lot and came to a stop, our driver and soon-to-be boat captain shared this: “After last night’s rain a 15-foot crocodile was sitting right up there in a puddle in the parking lot when we came into work this morning.” Yes, when it comes to tourism gigs, his is a bit different than the guy who checks tickets at Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride at Disney World. Before jumping out, he gave strict instructions to remain in the van until he opened the sliding door and told us to proceed straight to the “cage of death.”