Yes, That Car Costs More Than My House

Duloc Manor is a modest place. It's a cute little triplex with plenty of space for me, my husband, our assorted cats, and bird. We luckily bought it before the real estate bubble had its nuclear bust and plunged people who were once awash in excess equity into the depths of Upside Down Mortgage Hell. It's worth about the same now as when we bought it, which is a big positive in these dark recession days.

Today, hubby had a chance to drive a sweet Lamborghini Superleggera (pictured below) at the media preview of the new Exotic Driving Experience at Disney World:



The experience kicks off officially on Jan. 16 at the Walt Disney World Speedway, which is also the longtime home of the Richard Petty Driving Experience. You can still drive a NASCAR vehicle if you want pure speed, but now you can book a few rounds in a Lamborghini, Ferrari, Porsche, or Audi and feel a combination of land-flight on the straightaway and superior handling on a new course addition.

Prices start at $199, although the car my husband tried costs $339 to drive. Out of curiosity, I looked up its MSRP online, and it starts at $260,000. Yes, that gorgeous hunk of sports car costs over a quarter of a million dollars. If I sold Duloc Manor right now for market price, I'd still have to rustle up some big bucks to put that baby in my garage. Oh wait, I wouldn't have a garage anymore! Still, I'd look pretty cool living in it over in the parking lot near Publix where all the truck cabs and campers hang out.

The Porsche, which is the $199 car, is a relative bargain-basement vehicle with a $100,500 purchase price. That's still pretty rich for the blood of someone who drives a four-year-old Saturn Vue and who makes the car dealers cringe when she whips out her paperwork and boldly declares, "I'll pay you a little over invoice, but I won't pay for the overpriced tint and pinstripes, so you're going to have to throw them it in since they're already on the car. That ridiculous rip-off 'dealer fee' had better be deducted somewhere in the paperwork, and don't whine that you're not making any money when I know you get a holdback."

Still, even though I'm an automotive miser when it comes to my personal vehicle, I can certainly admire the power and majesty of high-end exotic cars that would do a dozen rings around my sputtering Vue before I could even press the accelerator.

I let my husband drive the Lamborghini today because he didn't get to go to Mainstreet in Motion last year. Mainstreet in Motion is a massive test drive at Epcot, sponsored by GM but featuring cars from a wide variety of manufacturers. I got to drive a muscle car there, although the short course, set up in the parking lot, didn't give me space to really open it up. Hubby was able make the Lamborghini show its stuff, since the Exotic Driving Experience uses part of the existing speedway track to feel the raw speed, as well as a new addition where you can test the handling.

I posted a video of hubby's ride experience in my Examiner column. I'll admit to feeling just a bit jealous as I watched him whip around the course, but he's a die-hard NASCAR fan so I figured he'd have the most appreciation. I know there's a big difference between race cars and exotics, but with guys it usually still comes down to speed, and the exotic cars at Disney have plenty of that.

Now we're back at home, slumming it at Duloc Manor. Just down World Drive, there's well over a million dollars worth of automotive luxury waiting to welcome the first paying riders on Monday. The kids have Autopia at the Magic Kingdom and Test Track at Epcot, and now the "big kids" have a car ride, too.

The Dark Icon

Since Downtown Celebration's earliest days, it had a bright neon icon: the Art Deco-style towers of the AMC Celebration movie theater. Like neighborhoods of the past, Celebration featured its own movie theater. Its sign became a symbol of Celebration, appearing in countless tourist photos and news stories about the town.

With only two screens, the AMC Celebration was downright tiny by today's MegaUltraPlex 100 Screen monstrosities. It reminded me of my childhood in Chicago, when it seemed that every city neighborhood and suburb had its own movie house.

I grew up going to movie theaters with names like the Roseland, State, Normal, and Lyric. They were small affairs, with only one screen each, but their artery-clogging butter-clotted popcorn was a taste treat unlike the sterile kernels served up today, and you got a double feature for your money.

If you went to a weekend matinee and liked the movies (or just wanted to hang out with your friends), you could stay to see them again and no one would kick you out. The seats were ragged, the floors were sticky, but those old-time movie theaters were neighborhood staples.

Alas, as the years progressed, they closed down one by one as the March of the Shopping Mall Cineplexes ground them down under its boot heels. For a while, you could still find one or two ancient theaters struggling for survival, but they'd be showing second-run dollar-admission fare that was already released on DVD.

The AMC Celebration was an anomaly, especially with the Downtown Disney AMC theaters just a hop, skip, and jump away. Even in its earliest days, it was never crowded, and the handful of people dwindled each time I went there. The last time I ever saw a movie there, I think there was only one other party in the whole theater.

Its fate was sealed just as surely as the fate of those other neighborhood venues. The AMC Celebration finally shut its doors for good. It was soon a blight on the face of downtown, with ripped, faded posters and a general look of abandonment and despair. Worse yet, someone threw the switch on the famous neon beacons. The unofficial town icon was dark, shabby, and desolate.

In a way, I supposed it was somewhat appropriate. The pre-real estate bubble Celebration I'd known many years ago had given way to a post-bubble wasteland. While it certainly doesn't look as bad as some Florida neighborhoods, it's not uncommon to see at least one unkempt, disheveled foreclosure on just about every block. You'll see a row of pristine homes, and smack dab in the center of them is a place (or two) with faded paint, a jungle lawn, mildew-encrusted stares, and blank, empty-eyed windows. Celebration might be just eight miles from the Magic Kingdom's gates, but it's certainly no Fantasyland immune to economic troubles.

There's been an ongoing local outcry about the theater. It remains empty and lonely because of a rumored legal battle between AMC and Lexin, the downtown's owner. Nothing else can locate there as long as it's tied up in strangulation-tight red tape. Meanwhile, the icon stayed dark, a victim of cruel circumstance and the economy.

Then one day, as Christmas was approaching, the people of Celebration looked up into the sky and saw a miracle. No, it wasn't the Christmas star, It was the Art Deco towers once again shining in all their neon glory. I don't know how or why, but somehow they got turned on again. Perhaps it would've just looked to shabby to have them darkened for the nightly holiday snowfalls. Tourists who come to Celebration want to embrace the fantasy of the “Disney town,” not be slapped in the eyeballs with the reality that we're just a hard-hit place like anywhere else in this recession.

I have no idea what the theater's ultimate fate will be. Since I've moved to town, Downtown Celebration has been a veritable revolving door of businesses, with shops closing their doors with roughly the same frequency as gators are spotted in the lake. Thus far, another shop usually springs up to replace the casualties, but you can see obvious vacancies now, in addition to the theater.

In the meantime, the icon still lights of the night, a memory of what once was...and, dare I hope, what might be again in the future.

V 3: Attack of the Sentient, Oversexed Floridian Lizards

If you're a science fiction buff, you might remember the corny 1980s science fiction series V, featuring humanoid aliens who were really lizards in disguise. They pretended to be benevolent, but they actually had an insatiable taste for human flesh, much as a boa likes to eat a mouse. The original V had two parts and then became a TV series. If you're not as oldy-moldy as me, then you know it as a 2009 reboot.

I used to doubt that there were sentient alien lizards among us until I moved to Florida. If you live here, or if you vacation at Walt Disney World, you know that the sunshine state is overrun with small, skittish lizards that love to hang out on sidewalks, walls, and wherever else they feel like it. They look innocent and not-too-bright. In fact, they have so little brain power that when you're biking, you might accidentally run one or two over because they're not good at getting out of the way.

Well, at least I thought they didn't have brain power, but now I'm starting to wonder. We have a ton of them in our yard, and a month or two ago I noticed that one of them was hanging out on the window of my family room, right where the cats sleep on their perch. At first I thought it was coincidence, but soon I realized that the lizard was purposely tormenting my cats! It would sit just above them, a smirk on its little lizard face as they went crazy trying to get at it. They'd smack against the glass, and that lizard wouldn't move. It knew full well that they couldn't get to it.

Okay, you're saying, that's pure coincidence. The lizard just happens to like hanging out in that spot. That's what I thought at first, although it seemed odd that its head was always pointed down as though it wanted to watch the poor cats' acrobatics. Then I noticed that if they ignored it, it would move around to attract their attention. Once it got them agitated, it would be still and watch the show. It hasn't been around in a while now, no doubt because of the cold temperatures. Alternately, perhaps it was called back to its home planet.

The alien lizards here in Florida apparently come from an oversexed society, and they've created an interesting mating structure here. My hot tub in the backyard apparently overlooks an official lizard hook-up site, which happens to be the corner of my house, which is next to the hedge. My husband and I will be soaking and relaxing, and suddenly a lizard will appear. The little horny creature will stare down at the hedge while doing an odd, bobbing dance. Then it puffs its throat out into an enormous bubble. Apparently, in lizard parlance, a giant throat puff is equivalent to what people say about guys with big noses, or big feet, or whatever bodily feature is rumored to be linked to a big...well, you know what.

The lizard mating ritual typically goes on for a few minutes before the creature gets lucky and launches itself down into the hedge. I don't know what happens then, but I assume the hedge is the reptile equivalent of a singles bar, or perhaps more like a brothel, and some female lizard has just agreed to a romp in the leaves.

Not all the lizards who use the corner-of-the-house pickup spot get lucky. Some dejectedly head back up the building after their elaborate ritual, but most seem to score. I'm waiting for the lizard vice squad to show up someday and slap a pair of tiny handcuffs onto one of the lizard Johns.

Maybe I'm reading way too much into the lizard antics here. After all, given their size, their brain can't be much larger that a fingernail. Still, I've witnessed some interesting things while out in the yard or looking out the window. If the lizards suddenly speak someday and claim to have a cure for cancer, which they'll give me in exchange for unfettered access to my hedge, I'm not taking them up on any offers of a free spaceship tour.

I'm busily adapting some of my most popular old blog entries into a Kindle book, but in the meantime I've got a few other titles out, including credit repair, becoming a travel agent, and tips and tricks for visiting Disney/Orlando. I've also started two new blogs to go with two of the books: Free Credit Repair at http://freebadcreditrepair.blogspot.com and Starting a Home-Based Travel Agency at http://ownatravelagency.blogspot.com

No Sympathy

When I woke up this morning, the outside temperature was in the 30s, and all four of our resident cats had sought refuge on the bed, creating a big, warm human-and-cat pile. Yes, our heat pump is on, but that little electric contraption is no match for sub-freezing temperatures. This sort of weather needs a big, bellowing gas furnace to keep the cold at bay.

The sad thing is, I get no sympathy when I complain to family and friends back home. Right now, as I type this, it's 19 degrees in Chicago. Instead of looking out at palm trees and green grass, they're starting at a barren waste land. Eventually (although it might take days) it will warm up into the 70s here. Their "warm up" there will probably be in the 40s. I'm sure they'd trade places with me in a heartbeat.

Of course, my concept of "cold" is very skewed now, since my once Heinz-ketchup-thick blood has thinned out to the consistency of cherry Kool-Aid. I handle the heat and humidity like a pro, but let the mercury drop below 70 and I'm shivering like I'm at the North Pole.

I guess I should be grateful that no matter how cold it gets, it's unlikely that I'll ever seen snow again, outside of the theme parks, the Gaylord Palms snow event, or the "snoap" that rained down from the light posts nightly in Downtown Celebration for the holiday season. I just hope things warm up here before January 21, or these brave souls doing the Polar Plunge at SeaWorld might just end up floating around encased in blocks of ice. Me? I'll be the one in the Eskimo parka cheering them on from the sides.