Spring Break In One Day

We had our traditional one day off in March yesterday (after a horrible start, we're now 13 and 7; meaningless unless your team lost 93 games last year). I decided to follow the schedule and do nothing. No workouts. No baseball. No sparring verbally with teammates or management. It was going to be a day of solitude, just me and my X-Box.

Was...

I was awakened at 7 am by Vanessa rumbling around the room. I asked her what her deal was (in those exact words, which she loved [I'm being sarcastic]). She reminded me - REMINDED ME - that we were pulling Alyssa and Grace out of school for the day and driving up to Disney World in Orlando. Right away. So move.

So long solitude, hello crowds.

I must admit, although you can probably tell, I didn't want to go. I didn't want to go so badly I'd forgotten we had planned this ten days ago when I got into an argument with the girls, who were mad I'd forced them down here to Florida only to never see them. I'm a jerk. I'll admit that too.

We got out of the house quickly. Not to beat the crowds. To beat Connie, Vanessa's stalker friend who won't leave. We pulled out of our rented driveway in our rental car, drove down our rented streets, past the rent-a-cop providing semi-insufficient security at the guardhouse, and sped away. In the rearview mirror, I could see a woman in a miniskirt and heels racing after us, arms waving, breakfast danishes falling to the sidewalk. Right before I turned the corner, I saw her make a beeline for the guardhouse. I was happy we'd told him we were going south and flying to Miami for the day. I hoped that would throw her off our scent.

We hopped on the highway and drove north, all four of us relieved that it was just the four of us in our spacious team-paid rental car and the fifth Beatle had been left behind. I was so happy, I let Alyssa sing about it, which she did. Horribly. She's taking up harmonica too, by the way. 'Nuff said.

We had breakfast at a waffle house, the girls begging me to park in back, out of view of the road. They "premonissed" (not sure if that's a word, but it sounds good) that Connie would pick up our trail soon enough. Both Vanessa and I, because we're mature parents, told them they were being silly. I made an extra effort to hide, I mean, park the car behind a dumpster just the same.

Food eaten and digesting, we were off again, driving toward the world's greatest theme park. In traffic. There was an accident up ahead which slowed us down for an hour. Sports car on its roof, resting between highway and median. Nice car. Recognizable. Two ambulances, four fire trucks and five state trooper vehicles cut the four-lanes into one. I couldn't see anything specific, so we continued onward. "Maybe we should switch cars with the one on its roof," Alyssa said. "That way Connie'll think we're in a hospital."

"No," Vanessa said in her "Now your imagination is running away with you" voice.

"Yeah," I said in my "Not a bad idea, Alyssa" voice.

We arrived in the Walt Disney World parking lot after paying $25 for the privilege, hopped a monorail and were off to the Magic Kingdom. I've been coming down to Florida for 20 years and think Vanessa and I had only brought the girls here once, when they were little kiddies. I could see in their fifteen year old eyes an excitement fifteen year olds are generally too cool to show. I didn't say anything and let them feel, thinking to myself, 'You are mature, Mr. Scott.' My outward, physical smile lasted as long as it took to read this sentence.

"Sh*t," I said. "Sh*t," Vanessa and the girls said simultaneously.

There, in front of us, was J.D. Bryant, our gifted and talented new third baseman, along with his wife Karen, gifted and talented anchor of ABC's Morning Comments, the top-rated show amongst the white female demographic of 27-43 year olds. They had their three kids with them, names unremembered. J.D. and Karen, when together, are wonderful people in small doses. About 30 seconds worth. Then it's best to move along. They bicker as a couple. They don't fight. They bicker. Little quips. Little shrugs. Little eye rolls. But these "littles" add up to a consistency that will drive you nuts.

"We should spend the day together!" Karen said! (worth two exclamation points). She's a very chipper gal, especially in the mornings when TV cameras are pointed her way.

Vanessa, who'd been saddled with a stalking friend for the last 9 days, thanked Karen for the offer (Karen is very liberal in her political views; Vanessa, if possible, would be part of a vast right-wing conspiracy if anyone let her.) But she (Vanessa) said we were meeting our friend Connie in Cinderella's castle in 20 minutes. But thank you.

At that point, J.D. and Karen were besieged by a group of autograph seekers, who thankfully didn't recognize me in my sunglasses, Hawaiian shirt and straw cowboy hat (yes, I word pants). We waved and skipped away, happy to have now avoided Connie, the Bryants, and groups of autograph seekers.

The next few hours were fun. We had a nice lunch. We saw Kai Goto and his family, but they kept moving (Kai looking a little harried), so an exchange of waves was enough. They were followed by about 30 Japanese photographers. Looked like fun.

We saw Paul Hudson and his kids. Raina, his wife, is suing him for divorce (and many millions of dollars [American]). I know as many details as the NY Post will publish, which is to say I know as much as you. He looked happy to be out and about and with his kids. But even as he hugged Vanessa, I could see a few stray onlookers, who were probably hoping to make a few bucks, taking pictures with cameras or cell phones. The guy can't even catch a break on a day at the theme park with his kids.

We had just left him when it happened.

Quietly, under her breath, Grace said the one word none of us wanted to hear. "Connie." We looked up. There she was, Connie, being driving on a Disney World golf cart by a security attendant. We couldn't run or hide. It was too late. She was coming straight for us.

"Go,"Vanessa said. "I'll deal with this."

We told her we wouldn't leave her. It wasn't fair to her. Seriously, Vanessa aged about 10 years in the ten seconds it took Connie to thank the golf cart driver, turn, and smile.

"I didn't think I'd ever find you!" Connie said!! (If you'd heard her voice, you might've added another exclamation mark.)

"Neither did we," I said. "Know what I'm saying?"

She did, but pretended she didn't. I wished the security guy would come back, armed, so he could escort this woman off the premises at gunpoint. But no security guy. No guns. No golf carts. Just Connie, smiling her sad smile. If she had given us some space, maybe I would have allowed myself to feel bad for her. Then I thought -

"It's not our fault your unhappy," Vanessa said. (Which I was thinking. It was kismet!!!!) "You've got to let us go."

"What do you mean?" Connie said, although she knew.

Vanessa tried to use her manners. "Go home, Connie," she said. "Go home now and talk to your family. You can't be with us anymore."

"Hello again!!!!" It was Karen Quinn, J.D. and the kids. Had they snuck up on us too?

"Dude," J.D. said to me. "Comere." (He was saying, "Come here," but he combines words a lot.)

Vanessa nodded. She was probably going to try to have Connie stalk Karen now instead. Not a bad idea. Meanwhile, J.D.'s three boys were oogling Alyssa and Grace, who were paying attention to text messages on their phones. I made a mental note (that I'd quickly forget) to remind my fifteen year old daughters that boys look at them a lot, so kicking these boys in the cajones is a viable option.

"Diju hear 'bout Lyman?" J.D. said to me. I shook my head. "Bad car crashnstuff. He'sinna hospital." (He said, "Bad car crash and stuff. He's in a hospital.")

J.D. didn't know any details beyond that. But we both wondered what would happen to our starting right fielder, a man the team expected 25 home runs, 90 RBIs and 20 stolen bases from starting in two weeks.

"You're kidding!!!!!" Karen and Connie were getting along. Vanessa had an evil look in her eye. "You've GOT to tell me about this!!!!!" Karen was enraptured by something Connie had alluded to. Vanessa took this as our cue.

My nuclear family of four left the Bryants with Connie, who was now allegedly going to dinner with them in Treasure Island. Don't ask me how Connie had traveled to Disney World or how she was getting back. I didn't know and didn't want to ask.

We decided to go before Connie decided to latch onto us again. We passed Kai and his family and the 30 Japanese photographers. He looked exhausted. The season hasn't even begun and the guy's held more press conferences than I have had in my career. Talk about an unwanted burden.

We hopped the monorail to the $25 parking lot, constantly looking behind us. No Connie. We got off the monorail, ran down the stairs, turned and ran back up, hopping another monorail and getting off at Epcot. We let two pass before jumping onto another and circling the entire park (I purposely left my hat at one stop and sunglasses at another to confuse the woman), arriving back at the rip-off parking lot. We split up then as we deboarded. The three girls (Vanessa included) ran to the car. I stood and watched other monorails come and go. No Connie.

The squeal of a set of rental car breaks told me I had but seconds to spare. I threw myself into our car, Secret Service style, and let Vanessa speed off at up to 7 mph. We all sat very low, pretending we were in our 80s (lots of those people in Florida at this, and pretty much any time of year). We reached the exit followed by a myriad of different cars. We hoped Connie wasn't in any of them.

After parking three restaurants down from where we ate dinner, I took a taxi back to the car while my familial companions hid behind an Exxon restroom across the street. I picked them up, returned our rental car (complaining it was "too roomy") and got something a little...different from what Connie expected. The rent-a-cop at the guard house of our rental home complex swore he hadn't seen Connie and swore he wouldn't let her in or tell her he'd seen us. I gave him a $50 bill and told him I'd find him and kill him if Connie bothered us for the rest of the night. I dropped everyone off at the house and parked my new rented big black Hummer down the street, hoping to keep this woman completely off our trail.

No lights that night. We were all in bed by 8:30. When the doorbell rang around ten o'clock, Vanessa and I both pretended we were asleep. As I wondered how I'd find and kill the security guard, Vanessa and I both knew that somehow this woman had to go.