When last we left off, I had procured some souvenir mugs in an attempt to compensate for the sauna of the afternoon sun. Of the many elements that are common to seemingly all Disney Trip Reports, weather tops the list. While a few wintertime travelers are taken aback by a stray cold front, the overwhelming majority report on the grueling heat and oppressive humidity. The summertime weather in San Antonio can be woefully similar. Thus while we were grateful for the shade afforded us that June evening in Sea Lion Stadium, we were still in dire need of a restorative.
Luckily, a hearty of helping of Mug root beer did the trick. Thus properly refreshed, we were enjoying a rousing performance of the Cannery Row Caper. As I mentioned at the close of the last chapter, the first half of the show went hunky dory. (Whatever that means.) We were all enjoying the cheesey dialog and corny plotline when suddenly tragedy befell us.
The two sea lions in the show were supposed to swim out to the glass, lean up on it and do that barking noise that their species is so well known for. One of them did it just as rehearsed. The other got too much spruce in its caboose and went flying over the wall and into the audience. Luckily there is a wide walkway between the front row and the tank and there was no one right there close.
Two pages immediately blocked the aisle, and the trainer ran down and gave a hand signal. Apparently the critter understood as it leaned up on the wall and pulled itself right back into the tank. The entire thing was over in about 20 seconds. (Approximately 3 seconds less time than it takes to put down your souvenir mug of root beer, reopen the backpack and pull out, power up and focus the camera that you stowed before the show having rationalized that you've seen it before, have plenty of pictures already and just want to sit and enjoy it.).
The trainer seemed a bit rattled and gave us a “That’s never happened!” The animal was immediately sent backstage to be looked after. We were all a little nervous when the critter did not appear in the rest of the show. There was however a hearty cheer from the crowd when it did come back out for the final bow and seemed wholly recovered. (Or wholly swapped out backstage with a different seal lion, it’s hard to say which.) Anyway, there were two of them at the end and both were in good spirits and that seemed to be agreeable to the audience.
With this show now off the list, we headed out to the catch the water ski show which was about 5 min away from starting. I knew we wouldn’t make it to the first couple of minutes of the show, but come on, it’s a ski show. There isn’t much plot line to catch up on, and by “much” I mean there is none.
Once upon a wonder year, the show’s water borne performers had an entire stage show that went along with their aquatic acrobatics. (Anyone else remember Beach Blanket Ski Party?) There were costumes, musical numbers, corny yet humorous plot lines, the whole nine yards. That ain’t so any more.
You get a narrator.
Some dude, standing in the center of the beach saying things like, “And now Brad’s going to do a triple Hungarian Butt Spritzel with a half twist!” To which an overheated crowd would give a half hearted “woo”.
Go Brad...I should have followed my first instinct and left the camera in the bag again.
That was pretty much the entire show. Narrator dude tells us who’s coming out and what they are going to do and then we watch them do it. Wow. Hope the writing team didn’t stress themselves out too much there.
Luckily I had stopped to refill our mugs on the way into the stadium so at least we had the entertainment of sipping our beverages.
After being fully underwhelmed, we backtracked slightly and took in the Penguin house. Because there is apparently nothing that quite lifts the spirits like the olfactory stimulation that is wafted out of a building after it has been wholly sullied with penguin poo. This of course led to a desire for corn, namely of the grilled variety, and thus the Roasted Corn stand with its buttery ears and founts of bubbly refreshment became our next stop.
After our third round of refills and some golden grilled heaven were properly dispatched, we headed over to our final stop of the evening: Shamu Stadium. I had hoped to catch Believe, but the traffic debaucle on 410 had rendered that plan inoperative. Thus we settled on Shamu 2.0, also known as Shamu Rocks. It’s not a bad show, it’s just got a different vibe than Believe. BUT, we were cool with it and managed to score a spot well above the splash zone. While we waited for the show to start, my fame was recognized and I found myself on the Jumbotron.
Can you spot this Biscuit in this picture?
The show itself was good, but I had forgotten about the “no trainer in the water” policy that was adopted after the Orlando incident. Not that I would wish someone to risk life and limb for my entertainment value. But it does change the dynamic of the show. It still has some good moments though.
Notice how the angle of the sun striking the stadium interacted with the shower
of whale spit to create an almost angelic aura about this creatures head.
With our Sea World dance card thus filled, we headed out to meet my parents for dinner. Of course we didn’t make it out of the park before finding our way into a gift shop and spending thirty minuets playing the “I can’t decide” game with the girls. Thankfully, we did finally manage to procure a couple of mementos and then booked it out to the car.
We were staying at the Comfort Suites just off of I-10 near Six Flags Fiesta Texas. Not so coincidentally there was a Zio’s a couple of blocks away and it was there that we met up with Nana and Papa. In typically Biscuit tradition there was much joyous greeting and a few moments of seat shuffling before all were settled and ready to get down to bidness.
For starters, we ordered up a Baked Formaggio (described in the menu as: “A blend of five cheeses and Italian herbs baked in our brick oven, topped with kalamata olive relish and served with grilled Italian bread.”) For an entre, the girls both got the kids Fettuccine Alfredo while First Lady Biscuit and I split the Chicken Alfredo. (Mushrooms on the side as FLB doesn’t care for them, but I’m not willing to give them up. After all they don’t reduce the price of the dish if you cut them out and I figure if a feller’s paying for some ‘shrooms, he ought to get to eat ‘em.) It was nifty as always and we topped the meal off with an Oreo Mountain dessert.
It was mighty fine and tasty all the way around.
Upon returning to the motel, the girls got ready for bed and then we headed over to Nana’s room to have her read them their devotions. Having thanked our Lord for a fun day together and invoked His provision over our next day’s activities, we bid Nana and Papa goodnight and headed off to bed.