people stared at them. Whining childr en stopped
whining . Bryan looked taken aback.
Wade though t, What a geek. Why on earth would Bryan give a rat's ass about Dad's approval? And does he have to be so bloody pathetic about itì The loudspeaker's neuter male voice loudl y described a
Polynesian wonderland off to the left, and a vast Rocky Moun tain-style timber lodge off to the righ t. Wade though t abou t his father. What would the world have to offer Ted Drummond , and the men like him, a man whose usefulness to the culture had vanished somewhere around the time of Windo ws 95? Golf? Gold? Twenty-four-hour stock readou ts? Sailboats? Extra decades of li fe? Past a certain poin t, what is there for a man's man in this society? Or, for that matter, here in Florid a — a land of massive science
projects cooked up by people like his father and his gol f buddi es — a place vividly in decline, yet brashly
on the way up. Wade ri fled through his mental snapshot index of the region, his images of dumbed-down theme park att ractions, crack dens, the space shutt le, malls bursting with doodads, freeways tangled like electric cords and the nigh tly evening news that felt like a recurring fever dream. He though t of the
burning sun and the beautiful, deadly creatures that lurked beneath muddy waters like bruises waiting to surface.
Wade's pocket buzzer went off and he took a 3TC capsule swigged down with the dregs of a can of Orange Crush. He felt seasick and chalked it up to the monor ail ride, now entering a large A-frame
concrete building he'd seen on TV thir ty years before. The hotel had once seemed like the future, and now it looked like . . . just another building . He'd never expected to see the structure in his li fetime, yet here he was.
The monor ail stopped at the Magic Kingdom and they disembarked. Wade remembered his conversation with Beth before leaving for Disney World : 'No freaky shit, got it? I don ' t care what deal you set up for your dad, but you are not to be an accompli ce. Do you read me? And I don ' t care how much money we
owe the fertili ty clinic or whoever — I don ' t want you in the pen or on the lam. Read me?' 'I'll be fine.'
'Don' t eat junk food. You kno w what the clinic said abou t junk food.' 'I kno w.'
Ted and Bryan stood in a patch of shade that lowered the temperature not even a smidge. Around them churned a foam of tw o-parent families. Wade got to thinking : How many of these fathers whispered like pigs into the ears of temps in the off ice supply room? How many were spending their noon hours in
motels? And the mothers — how many were starting to drink Chardonnay with their lonely lunches in the ki tchen? How many felt trapped and unloved? How many were almost sick with jealousy over ' that brigh t young gal who's just turned the marketing department upside-down with fresh ideas?' — That brigh t
young gal with a future as big as Montana and legs like Bambi's mother's?
His father's voice interrup ted his reverie: 'So where do you kno w this Norm guy from?' 'Kansas City.'
'What does he do?'
What does Norm, do? 'Norm is Norm for a living. He's based in Tampa now.' 'He's late.'
'No, he's not. We're exactly on time — a sligh tly different thing.'
Pow! A parade burst out of nowhere, like a living room turning into a surpri se party.
'Give this place a mute butt on and it migh t be OK,' said Ted. His voice picked up. 'Geez, look at the knockers on Miss Mermaid.'
'I never understood the deal with mermaids,' Bryan said. 'I mean, how are you supposed to actually do it
with one? And I mean, she's got a great rack and all, but she's half fish.'
'Bryan, she's a goddamn cartoon, you moron .' Ted was indeed not in a Bryan mood. Soon the tw o were focused on Beauty, floating by them, seated atop a mobil e balcony along with Beast.
Where's Norm?
Wade was feeling dizzy. The glare and the crowds were swamping him. I'm in Walt Disney World. I never
though t I'd be here, yet
whining . Bryan looked taken aback.
Wade though t, What a geek. Why on earth would Bryan give a rat's ass about Dad's approval? And does he have to be so bloody pathetic about itì The loudspeaker's neuter male voice loudl y described a
Polynesian wonderland off to the left, and a vast Rocky Moun tain-style timber lodge off to the righ t. Wade though t abou t his father. What would the world have to offer Ted Drummond , and the men like him, a man whose usefulness to the culture had vanished somewhere around the time of Windo ws 95? Golf? Gold? Twenty-four-hour stock readou ts? Sailboats? Extra decades of li fe? Past a certain poin t, what is there for a man's man in this society? Or, for that matter, here in Florid a — a land of massive science
projects cooked up by people like his father and his gol f buddi es — a place vividly in decline, yet brashly
on the way up. Wade ri fled through his mental snapshot index of the region, his images of dumbed-down theme park att ractions, crack dens, the space shutt le, malls bursting with doodads, freeways tangled like electric cords and the nigh tly evening news that felt like a recurring fever dream. He though t of the
burning sun and the beautiful, deadly creatures that lurked beneath muddy waters like bruises waiting to surface.
Wade's pocket buzzer went off and he took a 3TC capsule swigged down with the dregs of a can of Orange Crush. He felt seasick and chalked it up to the monor ail ride, now entering a large A-frame
concrete building he'd seen on TV thir ty years before. The hotel had once seemed like the future, and now it looked like . . . just another building . He'd never expected to see the structure in his li fetime, yet here he was.
The monor ail stopped at the Magic Kingdom and they disembarked. Wade remembered his conversation with Beth before leaving for Disney World : 'No freaky shit, got it? I don ' t care what deal you set up for your dad, but you are not to be an accompli ce. Do you read me? And I don ' t care how much money we
owe the fertili ty clinic or whoever — I don ' t want you in the pen or on the lam. Read me?' 'I'll be fine.'
'Don' t eat junk food. You kno w what the clinic said abou t junk food.' 'I kno w.'
Ted and Bryan stood in a patch of shade that lowered the temperature not even a smidge. Around them churned a foam of tw o-parent families. Wade got to thinking : How many of these fathers whispered like pigs into the ears of temps in the off ice supply room? How many were spending their noon hours in
motels? And the mothers — how many were starting to drink Chardonnay with their lonely lunches in the ki tchen? How many felt trapped and unloved? How many were almost sick with jealousy over ' that brigh t young gal who's just turned the marketing department upside-down with fresh ideas?' — That brigh t
young gal with a future as big as Montana and legs like Bambi's mother's?
His father's voice interrup ted his reverie: 'So where do you kno w this Norm guy from?' 'Kansas City.'
'What does he do?'
What does Norm, do? 'Norm is Norm for a living. He's based in Tampa now.' 'He's late.'
'No, he's not. We're exactly on time — a sligh tly different thing.'
Pow! A parade burst out of nowhere, like a living room turning into a surpri se party.
'Give this place a mute butt on and it migh t be OK,' said Ted. His voice picked up. 'Geez, look at the knockers on Miss Mermaid.'
'I never understood the deal with mermaids,' Bryan said. 'I mean, how are you supposed to actually do it
with one? And I mean, she's got a great rack and all, but she's half fish.'
'Bryan, she's a goddamn cartoon, you moron .' Ted was indeed not in a Bryan mood. Soon the tw o were focused on Beauty, floating by them, seated atop a mobil e balcony along with Beast.
Where's Norm?
Wade was feeling dizzy. The glare and the crowds were swamping him. I'm in Walt Disney World. I never
though t I'd be here, yet
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