While Tragic Waters may be a somewhat pathetic destination for tourists, it turns out to be a pretty fun place to work. Surprisingly, I actually enjoy playing Eager Beaver. Of course, I could never admit this to Bec and Mel after being such a drama queen about it. But it’s a blast dancing around as a cartoon character. You get to be goofy, and kids love you.
At least most kids do.
Right now, a little girl is eyeing me nervously while her mother tries to get her to pose for a picture.
“Please don’t eat me, Mr. Beaver,” she says with a gulp as I put my arm around her. She’s scared, and it’s hard to blame her. After all, she’s five and there’s a giant woodland creature with freakishly large buck teeth kneeling down beside her. Shouldn’t she be scared?
But her mother has run out of patience. Sunburned and frazzled, she’s just trying to make it to the end of the day. “Just shut up and smile!” she barks.
Now frightened of both the giant beaver and her mother, the girl grimaces just long enough so that it looks like a smile in the picture.
Ah, the sweet beauty of a family vacation.
We’re at the end of what’s called a “meet and greet.” Three times a day we dance onstage to a few songs. Then we go out into the audience, shake hands with a bunch of kids, and pose for family pictures. (Most of which are much more pleasant than this one.)
The best part of being Eager Beaver is that unlike the contestants on American Idol who flame out in front of millions of people, I get to stay completely anonymous. No matter how silly or stupid I act, nobody knows that it’s me inside the costume.
Don’t get me wrong. The job also has its drawbacks. You don’t really know what heat is until you’ve worn a fur costume in the middle of the Florida summer. One day I had my hair pulled back with a rubber band and the rubber actually melted into my ponytail. My mom had to pick the pieces out with a lice comb.
The other drawback is the parade.
This year is the park’s fiftieth anniversary, so the parade has been renamed “The Golden Jamboree.” It’s really the same old parade, except the pirate float has been redecorated to look like a giant birthday cake. (Actually, it looks like a pirate ship with frosting, but at least they tried.)
During the parade, we’re supposed to follow the cake and dance around to music played by a mini marching band. The guests follow along too, and the whole thing ends at (get ready to gag) the mermaid lagoon, where the mermaids are waiting. Then they have a firework show. (Notice I didn’t say “fireworks” plural. They just shoot off one lousy firework. Disney World, this isn’t.)
My problem is that I still haven’t fully gotten the hang of looking through those eye slits in the helmet. I keep slamming into the giant birthday cake float. One time I bounced off of it so hard that my tail wiped out two members of the band.
Today I march close to Grayson so he can make sure I don’t wander off course. I also want to be with him when the parade ends because after work he is pulling off the greatest practical joke in history.
We’re talking pure evil genius.
It all started the other day, when we were practicing our routine in the hallway outside the locker room. I did it totally wrong and fell smack on my butt right as Crystal and one of the mer-chicks walked by.
Rather than help me up, she just looked down, laughed, and made a totally rude comment to her friend. Already flustered from the fall, I just sat there and took it. Typical Plain Jane.
Grayson saw the whole thing and he was fuming. It got us talking, and I wound up telling him the whole Crystal-Jane saga. When I finished, he just smiled and asked me a simple question:
I didn’t even answer. I just smiled and nodded. He took over from there. For the past three days he’s been writing incredibly romantic letters and slipping them into her locker. Then we hang out and watch her read them.
Every day she does the same thing. First she reads the letter. Then she grins from ear to ear, thinking about it. Finally, she looks around and tries to figure out which guy is her secret admirer.
Today Grayson is delivering his final one. He won’t tell me what it says, but he promises that it’s a winner.
I rush in from the parade and quickly switch into some street clothes. Then I head out to the hallway, where all the lockers are. Grayson is sitting at a table pretending to read the employee newsletter.
I sit down right next to him and pick up one too.
“Did I miss anything?”
“Nope,” he says under his breath. “But she’s coming right now.” He nods down the hall, and I see Crystal walking our way with a big smile on her face.
Even though she just got out of the water, she looks immaculate. Her makeup’s perfect, and not a hair is out of place. I can’t help but smile. It’s just like my Bikini Jane moments. She’s primped for this. She wants to look her best for this guy.
“You might want to get your camera phone,” Grayson suggests. “To show the friends you told me about.”
Great idea. I act like I’m making a call, and point the camera right at her locker. She opens it and beams, obviously thrilled to find yet another letter.
She looks both ways to see if anyone’s watching. Then she starts reading, and I start taking pictures.
First her eyes open wide. Then her lips thin and whiten. She balls up the letter and throws it to the ground. My last shot is of her perfect little butt stomping out to the employee parking lot. She looks so mad that I almost feel sorry for her.
Almost.
Finally, when she’s gone, I turn to Grayson. “What did you write?”
He nods over to the crumpled note on the floor.
I go over to the locker wall and pick the paper up off of the floor. As I read it, I start to laugh my butt off. Its perfect in its simplicity:
“Sorry, I thought this locker belonged to somebody else. Please ignore the last three notes.”