Camping Near Disney World

A Hellish Vacation

Photo by STEPHEN SHEPPARD on Unsplash

The following is a story from my memoir “To UnEat and Elephant”

Camping Near Disney World

One spring break, while we lived in Michigan, we decided to drive to Florida to visit Disney World. We took pride in our ability to travel on a budget. It was a game we played. Campgrounds were cheap, and we had to buy groceries anyway, so as long as we cooked food on our camp stove, gas was usually our biggest expense.

We’d explored to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and Washington D.C. We’d even gone to the Smoky Mountains, but Florida was as far from our home state of Washington as we could get. We were drawn to it like a moth to the flame. We told ourselves that driving to Florida and checking out Disney World would be amazing.

Our trip through Indiana and then Tennessee was uneventful, with the exception of a little snow. We were delighted to warm up camping on the sand dunes at Hunting Island State Park in South Carolina. We also had fun driving through the garden district in Savannah, Georgia. So far, this spring break was everything we’d hoped it would be, and we felt smug about all the money we’d saved by camping.

When we got to Florida, we planned to stay in a State Park for three nights while we explored Disney World. We told ourselves that the exotic world of the Everglades with Spanish moss hanging from the oaks over our tent would show us the best of both worlds—natural Florida and the polished theme park experience of Epcot and Disney rides.

My concerns began when we arrived at dusk. New places in the dark always make me nervous. Dylan walked to the pay station while I ran my flashlight over the sign and read the campground rules. Dylan came back with a ticket to set on the car dash.

“Okay, let’s get the tent set up.”

“Um, not so fast. Did you read this sign?”

He came closer. “What’s it say?”

“It’s warning us about alligators, rattlesnakes, scorpions, and fire ants.”

“Fire ants? I’ve never heard of fire ants.”

“Me neither, but if they’re listed in that company, they can’t be good.”

“I’m tired. Let’s get to bed and worry about this in the morning.”

“Right, but since we’re pitching our tent in the dark, how will we know if any of these creepy things are in our campsite?”

Just then, two men walked out of the bushes. The reflective patches on their uniforms told me they were park rangers. They were close enough that we could hear their conversation as they stopped under a light next to the bathrooms.

“Hey, Jim, you have a tick on your arm.”

I stared in horror as they shook off their shirts and checked each other's backs. When they noticed we were watching them, one laughed.

“It’s tick season! Beware!”

I was going to ask why he thought it was funny when his co-worker asked, “Are you guys here to see the launch?”

“What launch?”

“The space shuttle’s taking off at dawn. Lots of people here heading out to watch it. We can tell you the best place to view it.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were that close.”

“Yeah, being this close is only a concern if it blows up.”

“So what are fire ants?”

After a short lecture, I was afraid to use the restrooms. It seemed the natural state of Florida was one huge creepy crawly mess.

Dylan set up our tent while I sat shaking in the car. He finally convinced me to come sleep on my foam pad inside the tent. Surely, we’d be safe as long as we zipped the screen.

Before we went to sleep, I prayed. “Dear Jesus, please protect us from alligators, rattlesnakes, scorpions, ticks, fire ants, and the Space Shuttle Discovery.”

As we snuggled into our sleeping bags, Dylan teased me for my fears by saying, “I hope you didn’t miss anything.”

The shuttle went up without incident while we slept through it. We enjoyed our day at the Epcot Center. On the second day, we had fun on the rides. Now that we had survived two nights in the park with no incident, we congratulated ourselves on how smart we were to camp and save our money for Disney World.

While we were riding The Haunted Mansion ride, they stopped it in the middle of the ride and told us to get off because a tornado was headed our way. Thousands of people were getting on the monorail. I was terrified to get on, but it was the only way back to our car. I’d never been in a tornado before and hoped to stay safe. Riding up in the air did not seem safe. The panic rose in my throat, but I moved with the crowd.

We were relieved to get off the monorail, but we were standing under a large metal roof when we heard a loud crack of thunder. Then the lighting began flashing, and hail the size of grapefruit fell. There was nothing we could do but huddle under the metal roof, listening to the sound of thousands of baseball-sized hail hitting it. If the roof was so hard hit, we wondered what was happening to our cars.

When the storm passed, we walked through melting ice balls, past car after car, with their windshields and back windows punched out by the hail. We were relieved to see our windshield was only cracked.

Glad to be spared, we headed to our campsite, where our tent had collapsed, and our sleeping bags were floating in six inches of water. I was preparing to sleep in the car when Dylan decided to call his mom.

She graciously paid for a hotel room so we could take warm showers and sleep in comfortable beds that night. Since we foolishly had no savings or backup plan, we were grateful for my mother-in-law’s generosity.

When we returned to the University, our windshield crack had taken off in several directions. We were dismayed to watch it spread with every mile until it resembled a giant spider web.

As we stared at the windshield, Dylan gave me some advice.

“The next time you pray about rattlesnakes, scorpions, alligators, fire ants, ticks, and the Space Shuttle, please add tornados, floods, and hail to the list.”