I swear, I had a dream
about this last night and I had to write about it.
What
I Did On My Summer Vacation, 2067
By:
Louis O’Dowd Garcia-Wellington
Grade
11
Instead
of going to the space station for Gravity Camp like all my friends, I had to
work. At first, I was bitter and
resentful toward my parents, who are always trying to teach me self-reliance
any way they can. Then, they told me I
would have to work the Time Travel Visitors Week at Disney World. They pay is pretty good, there are a lot of
pretty girls that work there and the entire job also counts as a history
credit.
About
eight years ago, after scientists at Stanford perfected time travel, Americans
went crazy for it. The rules were
simple; visit anywhere for a day and you could only watch and enjoy. No interference or passing on of lottery
numbers. Nothing that would affect the fabric of time. Travelers were monitored, and after a few
hiccups (as you know, the Statue of liberty is still nude) we went back and
forth in time in droves.
Like
with most miraculous achievements in technology, we got bored. Travels dwindled. Americans looked ahead again to the first
flying car, which has still not been invented.
A
year ago, one of the original researchers at Stanford went on an undocumented
trip. He told no one about his
experiment. He came back an older man
only moments after he first disappeared.
He told his story to his colleagues; he had been traveling through time
confronting historical figures.
As
this was outlawed, his colleagues were furious.
They demanded a reason. They
demanded to know what he was up to. The
researcher told them he informed these pivotal people in history about the
future. He shared as many details about
the modern world as he could. He also
asked them if they would like to travel back to 2066 or so and see the world he
came from. Almost all of them said yes.
But
the strange part about all of this? When
asked where they wanted to go, they all answered: “Disney World”.
Which
brings me to my job.
July
10 -16 , 2067. Time Travel Visitor’s
Week. A few thousand park attendants at
the Magic Kingdom, closed to the public, a few hundred photographers and
cameramen, and people from all walks of life and time periods meandering around
the happiest place on Earth wondering where the bathrooms were.
I
was a guide. I’ve been to Disney a few
times, and I know the nooks and crannies of the park pretty well. The gateway was set up at the front of the
park, just under the train station.
Sunday morning, we awaited the researchers. They would escort each
person through the time portal smack dab into the smell of popcorn, roasted
peanuts, and the view of a giant fake castle.
First
though the gateway? Teddy Roosevelt. He
was definitely from his Rough Riders period; the tailored uniform was a
giveaway. I was a little underwhelmed.
Not because of his significance, but that he himself seemed
underwhelmed. However, after about
thirty seconds of scanning the welcoming committee (and their Disney info
iPads), he shrieked with joy. A cute
blonde girl from Georgia took him up to the train. After that, they were pouring through the
gate. Presidents, authors, scientists,
musicians…it was insane. For some
reason, Da Vinci stepped out, paused, and stepped right back through the
gate. We never saw him again.
I
got Medger Evers, Henry VIII and Abigail Adams on my first day. (John Adams also wasn’t into it.) It really
wasn’t much of a job, to be truthful. Once
they got a hang of everything, it was like a surreal family reunion. These people usually admired each other, and
while standing in line to get on the Jungle Cruise, you’d have a quartet of
writers chatting about God-knows-what and holding up the line. Hemingway just jumped into the water, he
almost broke his neck.
I
saw Pierre and Marie Curie eating turkey legs in Frontierland. I saw Gene Krupa and Jimi Hendrix at ‘It’s A
Small World’. All of the musicians broke
off into little groups. They usually
weren’t big on the rides; they just wandered around eating ice cream and
caramel corn. Van Gogh just laughed at
everything. The idea of a fake mountain
with a fake train running through it was the craziest thing he could imagine.
They
closed the Hall of Presidents after George Washington complained. The story was that he wasn’t a fan of the
portraits. The line for the Raceway
bumper cars was packed all day. Somehow
cars with lawnmower engines were more impressive than anything else.
Here’s
what made it worth it. This is the sight
you wish you could see, and I actually saw it.
Gandhi, Martin Luther King and Abraham Lincoln on the Tea Cups. You know, the cups that spin around and make
you sick? These guys were giggling like
nine-year-olds. They went three times in
a row. Thomas Jefferson wanted in, but Lincoln’s
legs were too long.
MLK
eating cotton candy. Lincoln in line
with Winston Churchill and Picasso at the Haunted Mansion. Stupid.
Insane. Wonderful.
After
seven straight days of madness there was only one unpleasant incident. (If it ever comes up, don’t invite both of
the Wright Brothers anywhere. Just one
or the other.) I was paid well, and I
got a few numbers. Two girls from
Georgia, one from California, and some detailed help from Albert Einstein on my
AP Physics summer assignment.
That’s
all I did.
