Reflections of My Life: The Serpent of TOTs

The Serpent of TOTs

"It has now been five days since the king cobra has escaped from his pin at an Orlando snake sanctuary," the news anchor on the television broadcasted. "The snake, as you might recall from our previous reporting, was being cared for after it was removed from its previous owner as an illegal pet." Now the picture changes to a middle-aged man dressed in cargo pants, a dirty shirt, and a large, rustic hat to block the sun. A reporter shoves a microphone in his face, and he begins to speak with a southern drawl.

"Naw, snakes are like escape artists. They don't like cages. I had a coupola snakes get out from time ta time, but nothin' quite like this. They do not travel far and like to keep to familiar huntin' grounds. I reckon he wouldn't have gone more dan a coupola miles."

The picture changes again to show a zoomed-in map of western Orlando. A black star dictates where this exotic snake reserve is. Not much else is shown on the map, aside from roads and white squares made to represent houses and businesses. Unintentional, or otherwise, it was hard to miss the big, bold, black letters that seemed to be mere inches from the star that reads "Walt Disney World." The reporter behind the desk did not mention the words and he did not allude to what purpose they served on the screen. He did not have to. The message was clear, and it was all anyone could talk about.

The buzz circulated across all media. News sources were panting a picture of the world's most venomous snake terrorizing tourists at Disney World. Memes on social media depicted a king cobra wearing mouse ears while a Mickey-shaped ice cream treat was entrapped in its windy tail. My colleagues on Sunset Boulevard Attractions were not spared from the talk. "What would happen if it bit someone here?" some would gossip, "What if it bit one of us?" another would ask with genuine fear.

A timer beeps on my phone letting me know that my fifteen-minute break was up. I slowly rose with a tired sigh. The weight of my utility belt, as I liked to call it, tempted me by pulling me back to the chair. The television sat high on the wall and continued the story as I refilled the water bottle that was clipped to my belt-loop. I type my unique code into the computer and it returns the act with an assignment: Special Right. The attached printer, much like one at a restaurant, prints off a laser-etched copy of what was on the screen. I was to replace one of my colleagues so that she may take her break. I push open the door to exit the pathetically small room that is our breakroom and exit into the unforgiving sun. I begin my walk past small towers of tech equipment and head into the little entrance that leads to house-right close to the stage.

I was not particularly worried about the cobra. At any given time, there are six different species of venomous snakes inhabiting Florida. Some of them are quite aggressive and live within Disney grounds. There are also alligators, so there are threats at every corner.

I push open the hanging fabric cover that blocks the entryway and make for my target. I had off the sheet and she takes it without looking at it. She then removes the radio from her belt and detaches her earpiece from the auxiliary input. The radio is handed to me as not a single word is exchanged between us. The exchange has been done so often that the transaction is automatic. It has been roughly an hour and forty-five minutes, so she is expecting her break.

The Theater in the Stars, or TOTS as we like to call it, is home to the Beauty and the Beast Live on Stage show. It is a condensed adaptation of the hit Broadway musical that was based on the original animated movie.

The show is about fifteen minutes into its twenty-five minutes runtime. Special Right is a comfy position to be in during showtime. When the door to the theater opens, and everyone rushes to a spot, the Cast Member at the top of the house, House Right, directs guests traveling in wheelchairs and scooters to spots at the top of the house. Should these guests prefer a spot closer to the front, the House Right Cast Member would direct them down a winding and twisting ramp that leads to my position. It was my job then to play a game of Tetris and stack the guests in the first couple of rows in the front. In the middle of the front row, house center, there was a long stretch of space between two benches. This is where we could fit guests who wished to stay in their chairs or scooters. The house right and house left side had similar setup but much smaller. The Special Right Cast Member had to fit everyone while using all the available space. It is a fun position to flex strategic muscle. It reminds me a bit like loading rides; an activity I miss greatly.