Another reason the boats were slow other than for the geriatrics is because they make too much noise for the gators. In case you do want to see some gators without the thrill of a fan boat, the park rangers give you directions to a road parallel to a river filled with leathery, snappy faces. No, and I don’t mean the geriatrics from the previous post. Bonus points if you get that reference.
That gator was less than 10 yards away from us. I rolled up our window.
Meanwhile, this dumbass, who coincidentally has the same red Corolla we did, opened their car door to get a better view of the gators. The gator is that little brown bump in the lower right corner. Two questions for this Darwin Award Nominee. First, we saw how slowly geriatrics move after the infamous soda incident; what chances do you have of surviving when that fast critter comes charging toward you? Second, how does taking one step out of the car improve your picture shot when you could just press “zoom”?
This gator started swimming over to us then dipped under water half way. We didn’t see it resurface for at least three minutes. I bet it wanted to get its revenge for its sibling that became our tasty gator cheesecake.
That's right. Swim away.
A lively hood ornament.
Dinner was ready for us when we came back to Ft. Lauderdale. I got some pictures of everyone shacked up there, except for Chris. He was being a punk.
Bill, my step-mom's dad
Mary, Chris's mom. She was staying with them while her house was being renovated.
Ken, one of their friends, with Brie.
Brie being hyper.
Pinot with his mustache.
