Gator Country

Orlando: Fast Food, Rednecks, and a Red Rental Car

As soon as I get off the plane, I head towards the food court in the terminal, thinking I can grab something to eat before I get my luggage. The food lines are too long though, so I buy a bottle of juice from a beverage cart and head for the carousel. I get my bags and hop on the shuttle for the rental lot.

A short balding guy in a cheap suit gets in with his wife, who smells heavily of whiskey. He helps her sit down after she almost falls over putting her suitcase on the shelf. She’s dressed in black tights and a low-cut blouse, showing off a body that you could tell had once been beautiful, but is now showing the ravages of alcohol and time. The guy tells me they’re going to Disneyland. A group of inner city kids with a couple of chaperones climb on board next, the boys pushing and cussing, the teachers trying to make them behave while stowing their luggage. Mercifully the door shuts, and we’re off. Welcome to Florida!

The bus drops us off in front of the Hertz building. It’s steamy hot; I’m sweating as I drag my luggage up the sidewalk to the entrance. At the desk I sign the paperwork for the econo-car I reserved through Hotwire.com. I decide to live dangerously and skip the extra insurance coverage. I hop in the little red Ford Escort and head for the highway.

The car cruises pretty well on the highway for a four-cylinder, and the AC blows good and cold, a necessity in Florida this time of year. The traffic grinds to a halt on the 528 just outside of Orlando. I look over; I’m next to a billboard advertising Universal Studios tours. Hmmm… stuck in traffic, Universal Studios, I’m starting to feel just like I’m back in LA!

I’m looking for some road food. My belly’s growling; I haven’t had a decent meal all day. The last thing I had to eat were those summer sausages and crackers they served on the plane. (The girls were making fun of me then; I couldn’t figure out how to get the stupid plastic wrappers off the little sausages.) A ways down the road I spot a burger place, stop in and pick up a basic combo.

Standing in line for my burger and fries. The locals in the place know each other, and the cashier. They have a definite accent, say things like “Well Claire, whatcha fixin to do when you get off work?” and most of them have bad teeth. Yep, looks like I’m in redneck country. I’m wearing my usual jeans, t-shirt, and a baseball hat. At first glance people would probably think I was a local too, that is unless I started talking. No time to hang around here, though, I gotta get to my sister’s place before 6:30. She has something to do at the school tonight; I’d like to say hi to her before she goes. I wolf down the rest of my food and get back on the road.

The maps and directions I printed out from Mapquest are pretty good; I’m not having any trouble finding my way. Looking at my watch I realize I probably won’t get there in time, because of the traffic jam earlier. I pull into the driveway at 6:35; my sister’s van is already gone. Oh well, I’ll get to see her later. I just hope my brother-in-law has a cold beer in the fridge for me.