January 13: Janx Spirit, Kilimanjaro Safaris, the Daily Poutine

Back to Ford Prefect . . .

In fact, Ford Prefect was a roving researcher for that wholly remarkable book The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.


Human beings are great adapters, and by lunchtime life in the environs of Arthur's house had settled into a steady routine.  It was Arthur's accepted role for squelching in the mud making occasional demands to see his lawyer, his mother or a good book; it was Mr. Prosser's accepted role to tackle Arthur with the occasional new ploy such as the For the Public Good talk, the March of Progress talk, the They Knocked My House Down Once You Know, Never Looked Back talk and various other cajoleries and threats; and it was the bulldozer drivers' accepted role to sit around drinking coffee and experimenting with union regulations to see how they could turn the situation to their financial advantage.  

The Earth moved slowly in its diurnal course.

The sun was beginning to dry out the mud Arthur lay in.

A shadow moved across him again.

"Hello, Arthur," said the shadow.  Arthur looked up and squinting into the sun was startled to see Ford Prefect standing above him.

"Ford!  Hello, how are you?"

"Fine," said Ford, "look, are you busy?"

"Am I busy?" exclaimed Arthur.  Well, I've just got all these bulldozers and things to lie in front of because they'll knock my house down if I don't, but other than that . . . well, no, not especially, why?"

They don't have sarcasm on Betelgeuse, and Ford Prefect often failed to notice it unless he was concentrating.  He said, "Good, is there anywhere we can talk?"

"What?" said Arthur Dent.

For a few seconds Ford seemed to ignore him, and stared fixedly into the sky like a rabbit trying to get run over by a car.  Then suddenly he squatted down beside Arthur.

"We've got to talk," he said urgently.

"Fine," said Arthur, "talk."

"And drink," said Ford.  "It's vitally important that we talk and drink.  Now.  We'll go to the pub in the village."

He looked into the sky again, nervous, expectant.

"Look, don't you understand?" shouted Arthur.  He pointed at Prosser.  "That man wants to knock my house down!"

Ford glanced at him, puzzled.

"Well, he can do it while you're away, can't he?" he asked.  

"But I don't want him to!"

"Ah."

"Look, what's the matter with you, Ford?" said Arthur.  

"Nothing.  Nothing's the matter.  Listen to me--I've got to tell you the most important thing you've ever heard.  I've got to tell you now, and I've got to tell you in the saloon bar of the Horse and Groom."

"But why?"

"Because you are going to need a very stiff drink."

Ford stared at Arthur, and Arthur was astonished to find that his will was beginning to weaken.  He didn't realize that this was because of an old drinking game that Ford learned to play in the hyperspace ports that served the madranite mining belts in the star system of Orion Beta.  

The game was not unlike the Earth game called Indian wrestling and was played like this:  

Two contestants would sit either side of a table, with a glass in front of each of them.

Between them would be placed a bottle of Janx Spirit (as immortalized in the ancient Orion mining song, "Oh, don't give me none more of that Old Janx Spirit / No, don't you give me none more of that Old Janx Spirit / For my head will fly, my tongue will lie, my eyes will fry and I may die / Won't you pour me one more of that sinful Old Janx Spirit").

Each of the two contestants would then concentrate their will on the bottle and attempt to tip it and pour spirit into the glass of his opponent, who would then have to drink it.

The bottle would then be refilled.  The game would be played again.  And again.

Once you started to lose you would probably keep losing, because one of the effects of Janx Spirit is to depress telepsychic power.

As soon as a predetermined quantity had been consumed, the final loser would have to perform a forfeit, which was usually obscenely biological.

Ford Prefect usually played to lose.

Okay, so I am now back on Betelgeuse, if Betelgeuse is full of snow and ice and has temperatures that hover around 25 degrees.  That's right, yesterday morning, I was sitting at a pool, watching my kids swim, and enjoying 75-degree sunshine.  Today, I'm firmly ensconced inside a house and dreaming of palm trees, alcohol mixed with fruit juice, and people wearing Mickey Mouse ears meandering around me.

So, let me make a time jump.  Sit down.  Pour yourself a Janx Spirit.  And join me, for a few more moments again, in the Happiest Place on Earth . . .

Friday morning, we slept in, had breakfast, and then walked to the bus stop to hop a ride to the Animal Kingdom.  First up, Kilimanjaro Safaris, a jeep ride around a bunch of habitats and animals.  Rhinos.  Giraffes.  Lions.  Flamingos.  Crocodiles.  After that, a quick jaunt to Avatar land for Flight of Passage, which everyone rode (including my wife, despite some misgivings).  Lunch at the Rainforest Cafe--garlic noodles with chicken and a margarita.  By the time we were done eating, we jaunted over to DinoLand and took a ride on a time traveling vehicle for a Dinosaur encounter.  By that time we got back, the sun was setting.  The Rivers of

Light Show.  Beautiful.  A little trip to the Himalayas for Expedition Everest and an encounter with a Yeti, and finally, we closed out the Animal Kingdom with the Na'vi River Journey.  Right up my wife's alley.  No sudden drops.  The boat moved less than one mile per hour.

Then it was off to Disney Springs for some shopping and a stop at the Daily Poutine.  I stuck with the traditional--fries, cheese curds, beef gravy--and a watermelon lemonade laced with some kind of alcohol.  Delicious.  The Disney Store--some last minute souvenirs.  My daughter picked up a pair or Levi jeans and some honeycomb.  On the way out, we stopped by the Daily Poutine again.  Just because we could.

Yesterday morning started with packing and pool time.  Soaked up as much sunshine before we had to reenact Planes, Trains & Automobiles with a mad taxi ride and dash through the Orlando airport--including a 40-minute TSA inspection.  My insulin pump held me up a little--I needed to prove that it wasn't going to explode or anything.  On the flight to Minneapolis, I watched Crazy Rich Asians and the documentary RBG about Ruth Bader Ginsberg.  Great films.  We had a three-hour layover in Minnesota before our flight to Marquette.

When we finally touched down in Marquette, it was six degrees, and the snow crunched under my shoes.

And now, here I sit on Sunday afternoon, checking my Disney Ap to see what the wait times are for Space Mountain and the Haunted Mansion.

Time for Saint Marty to face reality.