It began, as so many stories do, in a gas station - early November, 1998. Tom Vilsack had just won the governor's election and two young "non-Democrats" - Cory Cramer and Jason Darrah -were ready to pack it all up, drop out of school and move to a tropical island somewhere. At the time, it seemed like the only solution.
Well, it wasn't our ONLY option...somewhere between moving to a tropical island forever and merely staying at home there was some middle ground. We finally settled on a road trip to Key West for spring break. A reasonable compromise.
As the months zipped by and the plans for the trip were made, we decided to drive straight from Ames to a little state park outside of Tampa. We'd camp there, get up the next morning and finish the trip into Key West. Other than the twenty-some hour drive to Tampa, no sweat.
The time came, we hopped in the car and took off...through SE Iowa, NW Missouri, Hannibal, St. Louis, Paducah - getting sleepy - Nashville, Chattanooga, northern Georgia, Atlanta (where we almost died in a gang war - ask me about that sometime), Macon, Valdosta - very sleepy now - Gainesville, Ocala and Tampa. We had traded off driving duties throughout the drive, but I was pooped. We stopped for lunch somewhere outside of Tampa but then had to drive on a little further to get to this state park.
As we approached this state park, I was completely exhausted. I just wanted to pitch the tent and fall asleep for 18 hours or so. As we pulled up, it looked like a really neat park. I believe they were large Cyprus trees that lined the road with Spanish moss hanging low over the road. Pretty cool. We pulled up in front of the visitor's center where we needed to check in. Cory hopped out to go claim our reservation - I stayed in the truck to catch a cat nap.
He emerged from the visitor's center and got into the truck. "Well, are we all set?" I asked.
"Yep." As if I wouldn't catch it, he coolly continued, "we just need to go up this road a ways, park and hike a few miles."
"Uh, what?" Now typically, I like hiking - I love hiking. But I was on a "civilized" vacation, had driven twenty-some hours - with very little sleep, and all I wanted to do was crash. "Are you kidding me? HIKE for a 'few miles'"?
"Yeah, it's no big deal...it was cheaper."
At this point I was ready to go to a hotel. Mumbling something under my breath about how I would never let Cory pick the spot again, I put it in reverse and backed out. We drove by the neat little campground with the neat little campers and fire rings and shower houses and piles of firewood. Up the road into empty Florida wilderness.
"Turn here," Cory said. I pulled into a little drive and small parking lot. Right next to a little lake...A little lake that was FULL of alligators. When I say "full," I mean dozens and dozens of beady little eye balls all staring out of the water at us. Alligators flopping around in the water - "death rolls," is what I believe they are referred to on Wild Kingdom. There was no fence around the pond, no mote keeping them from leaving the lake. There was absolutely nothing between us and these gators except the shoreline. The only thing keeping them from crawling out of the water and eating us alive was their own lack of hunger. Awesome.
We sat in the car and stared at them out the windshield. "You are kidding me...!"
Ever the optimist, Cory says something about it not being a big deal - after all, we only needed to hike a "few miles." I'm usually a pretty good sport and up for about anything, but I was literally exhausted. I was in no mood to hike miles into the jungle, wrestle alligators and fight off God only knows what else - just to pitch a tent for the night.
"Okay, let's go." I went to the back of the truck and grabbed my stuff - threw on my pack, sleeping bag under one arm and a tent under another. Off we went into tropical Florida jungle. It was a well beaten path and the hiking was relatively easy, but with each passing step I grew more grumpy, schlepping through the jungle with my sleeping bag and tent underneath my arms. Cory, of course thought it was funny and laughed at me the whole time.
Then things got even more interesting...I happened to be ahead of Cory a few steps on the trail when a pack of wild armadillos came running down the trail towards me. "What the heck is this?" I asked. As a guy from Iowa, to that point in my life I hadn't ever seen an armadillo - let alone 20 of them running directly towards me. Since then of course, I've lived in Texas where there are armadillos everywhere. Let me tell you, the armadillos in Florida are much, much larger than the ones you see dead on the side of the road in Texas.
Anyway, I stood there for a second plotting my next move...What's the best defense to fight off a pack of man-eating armadillos? I braced myself for the attack and my impending demise. When they were about three feet from me, they scattered and ran into the jungle. I took a deep breath, looked back at Cory, "You call this a vacation? This is a stinkin' swamp!"
Again, he laughed and mumbled something about a Tony Orlando concert in Miami...Whatever. Finally, we came around a little bend in the trail and there it was...our little piece of heaven in the Florida swamp. I dropped everything and sat in the sand. Exhausted, I set up my tent, unrolled my sleeping bag and passed out.
The next morning I woke up rested, refreshed and rejuvenated. I had a completely new outlook on life. I unzipped the door to the tent, stuck my head outside and took a deep breath of the fresh jungle air. Ahhh!! I smiled at the new morning. "What a day. This place isn't so bad."
We packed up our stuff and began to hike back to the car. There was an added spring to my step. The armadillos were still on the trail on the way out. We got to the car and stopped by the lake to watch the alligators for a while. They were still there, too. Just floating and watching us with their beady little eyes sticking out of the water - waiting for their next meal, no doubt.
We hopped in the truck and headed south...Good old Tom Vilsack. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have this story and may have never been almost attacked by a pack of wild, man-eating armadillos.
