Italians, Disney World, and The Scarlet Macaw

This story is crazy and random, but when I saw "Scarlet Macaw" listed as a challenege, I knew it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. Eventually, the infamous Scarlet Macaw will make it's debut as our main character, so hang tight! This story begins with my family of crazy Italians who decided to drive from Rhode Island to Disney World.

It was October 2002. My family packed up our entirely-too-large suitcases into my mother's giant green Honda van and headed for 95 south. A van full of Italians is a comedy show in itself; parents arguing in the front, the kids bickering in the back, and whole lot of, "Ayyyyye we're lost. Do you know where ya goin'!!??!?!"

I don't know if it's just my family, or most Italian Rhode Islanders, but for some reason, driving everywhere was the ONLY way to travel. Three days in a van on the highway was the all-time perfect family adventure. The only issue for this trip? Unbeknownst to us before departure, that van was anything less than drive-able.

We made it all the way to the tip of North Carolina when, suddenly, the van lurched and chugged to a halt. Next thing we knew, we were pulled over on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Since it was 2oo2, cell-phones did not have great reception. No cars were passing by. We were totally stranded. My dad, being a handy-man and master electrician, popped the hood to see if he could quickly fix the glitch. No luck. An hour passed.

It seemed like all hope was lost. There was alot of huffing and puffing from my dad under the hood and a lot of arguing. Out of nowhere, a large tow truck pulled up and two men jumped out. These men were straight out of the country woods–straw hanging out of their mouths, carheart overalls caked with mud, thick boots, missing teeth, and large tattered hats. I'm not sure if this is an offensive term or not, but for the sake of description, these men were the defintion of real life hill-billies. The kind you see in movies.

"Ay, you folks need help over here?" One of the men bent down at tapped the car with his kuckle, "Looks like you need some new parts. Let us tow you back to our place and we'll fix er' up."

Just imagine how the conversation sounded–thick southern twangs mixed with my families loud italian slang.

"Okay. Okay. Okay. Alright. Yeah. We'll have you look at it." My dad was reasoning as he replied.

They hooked up the van and we all hopped in the tow truck. About 20 minutes off the highway, we pulled onto a long, dirt road. At the end of the road, there was a small white cottage, a large oak tree with a tire swing, and no sign of life in sight. Suddenly, the door to the cottage swung open. Two kids ran outside, followed by an old woman in a flower-patterned night gown. She was waving a spatula. A spatula.

"You kids! Always causin' trouble!" She wailed. When she saw us, she flashed a smile, "Welcome! Come inside! Let's have some fresh squeezed lemonade!" We all exchanged skeptical glances and upon silent agreement, decided to walk toward the cottage.

My dad walked around the cottage with the two men to work on the van, while my mother, brother, and I stepped inside. On any normal day, walking into the homes of our fellow Italian-american families meant alot of Victorian decor, lacy wall-paper, and Holy statues littered around the room.

But here...well...dead animal heads. Everywhere.

The entire scene screamed "HORROR MOVIE." This family had about 10 large busts of a deer, a few stuffed bunnies, a raccoon, a snake, and I'm pretty sure the lamp was made of human skin. We were only kids and we were horrified. As we were gawking at the display of animals hung on the walls, a little boy walked up behind my brother and I.

"Hey," He whispered. "Wanna see my bird?"

"yeahhhhh, wanna see the bird?" his sister mimicked.

We shot nervous glances at our mother who nodded as if to say, "Go ahead." We followed the kids to the backyard, past the old tree the worn out tire swing, and past the rows of hanging glass bottles and wind chimes. They were clanging in the wind. There were no birds in sight.

"Where are the birds?" I asked shakily.

"Back here." The little kid smirked.

In the far corner of the yard, behind a row of bushes, there was a small shed. He tip-toed up, and slowly pryed the door open. We gasped when we stepped inside. It was as we had stepped out of one world and into another. Very Chronicales of Narnia. The entire inside of the shed was a tropical rainforest. At the end of the magnifient plant-ridden room, there was a marvelous red, yellow, and blue bird. We stood there, in awe, as it chewed at its feathers. It was beautiful.

"We're not supposed to be in here. It's my dad's secret forest room. And this is my dad's bird."

My brother and I stared at the creature across the room.

"What is it?" I gasped. It looked like a parrot, but I wasn't sure. I'd never seen one in real life before.

"It's a Scarlet Macaw." The boy whispered.

Suddenly, we heard a loud thwack as the screen door to the main house slammed shut. "You kids better not be near that bird, I'm comin' to get yew!!!" The woman was running towards the shed waving her spatula. We all looked back in absolute horror. The bird started screeching, "EEEEEK DANGER DANGER." What?!?!?!?!

"RUN!" The kids shouted.

My brother and I were in shock and as we rounded the corner of the house, we smacked into one of the older men. "Did.... ya'll....kids....sneak...to... see MY MACAW?" he sneered. Terrified, my brother and I ran back to our parents just as the van was getting ready to hit the road. Talk about perfect timing. Everyone said goodbye and we hit the road. We sat silently in the back seat the entire ride to Disney World.

Flash foward to Animal Kingdom.

After a fun few days wandering around the wonderful world of Disney, we finally came to Animal Kingdom. Lions. Tigers. Bears.... Birds....

As we entered the tropical bird area, my brother and I overheard one of the park workers giving a tour, "This is the Scarlet Macaw," the voice explained.

We froze.

"Oh wow-za, a Scahhhhlet Macaaawwww!" A thick southern accent wooed from the crowed.

My father, hearing this accent and thinking it was the funniest thing in the world, turns to my brother and mimicks, "HAY! DID YEWWW SEE THAT SCARLET MACAWWWWWWWW."

Wide-eyed, terrified, and shook with PTSD, my brother and I stood frozen.

Yes. Yes we did see the Scarlet Macaw. We saw it beyond the walls of Disney World, in a forbidden shed. We heard it cry danger. We ran from the wicked woman and her spatula. We saw the Scarlet Macaw and we will never be the same.