When my parents got divorced, my brother and I were still young enough to believe that there might be something we could do to bring them back together. We spent the summer of ’77 coming up with one elaborate plan after the next, hoping that they would fall back into each other’s arms. The most elaborate of those scams involved playing dead. We arranged ourselves on the floor—arms and legs at chalk-outline angles—and waited to be discovered. The fantasy ended the way all of our fantasies ended: the four of us at IHOP feasting on pancakes and the waitress bringing free helpings of extra whipped cream.
The other scams—equally as earnest and proving to be just as ineffective—involved broken washing machines, bizarre mall abductions, missed phone calls and official letters from the government. But as wild as our young imaginations were, we never—not once!—ended up at Disney World. I mean, to end up at Disney World, the land of magic and make-believe and Goofy and sunshine, well, that would just be too idealistic, too silly, too much.
Philadelphia mom, Bonnie Sweeten, it seems would beg to differ. While our fairy tale didn’t end at Disney World, Sweeten’s fairy tale did: with her in handcuffs. Not exactly what you dream of as a child–from Mickey’s wonderland to the Orange County Jail–but Sweeten had come upon tough times, and based on the recent embezzlement discovery by her employer, times were about to get tougher.
The story began on Tuesday when Sweeten called 9-1-1 from what she claimed was the trunk of an SUV driven by two otherwise nondescript “black men.” The whole thing just got more bizarre: Sweeten had “borrowed” her friend’s ID to get onto the plane; had left her 8 month-old at home; had withdrawn $12,000 from local banks to fund her escape. $12,000. That’s it. I’d imagine after a few Big Gulps and the price of admission, Sweeten didn’t have much of her booty left.
But it’s got me wondering about how–if I knew my days outside of the clinker were numbered–I’d like to spend my time. This isn’t about disappearing; it’s about living it up. Sweeten chose Disney World; I might choose Rio with its pulsing life or all those canals of Amsterdam or Paris with its Moules Frites and tiny cafes. How about you? Ah reader, do tell.
I’d jump on a horse (with a really comfy saddle, of course) and ride through the mountains. No better way to see the world than on top of a horse, in my opinion.
And I’d be fantasizing that with the help of my stead I could outrun the law at the same time. But then again, it would be my luck to get eaten by a mountain lion shortly into my adventure!
You’re a great writer, Nicole!
It would off to Holland..the land of tulips and windmills to see the countryside. Although, I rather think I would like to hold onto the fantasy, as reality always seems to be not quite as delicious. Besides, toting around the 4 little ones might prove to be a bit cumbersome out there 🙂 and I go nowhere without my girls…so, long live the fantasy.
Hobokken, who would ever think to look there???
Maybe Skiatook, it is lovely in the summer…………
Debbie, thanks so much for your kind comment! Horses–I love! Ah but Holland would be tempting. As for Dr. Sooner & Ms. Alaska, you gotta aim a little higher! You know the old saying “Shoot for the stars, you might reach the sky; shoot for the sky, you may never get off the ground?” Well, “Shoot for Hoboken, you might never even get out of Newark!”
Somewhere wild and Canadian I think. With low population density and good views. I like the idea of a horse, but the baby’s probably to little for that. Maybe a bike and a trailer? I’ll wait till she’s old enough to ride in one before making my great escape. Maybe Saskatchewan, those fields of sorghum would be good to look at. Don’t they grow sorghum there? And I’d eat all the donuts I want.
Good thing you weren’t around to advise Frank Sinatra, but then again Ole Blue Eyes did eventually follow Horace Greely’s old advice and went west, Palm Springs I believe.
Miss Alaska’s thoughts weren’t half bad, but I don’t know if you would ever make Skiatook since you would have to pass through Owasso. Just think, it’s Friday in October night at Owasso Memorial Stadium. Garth Brooks has just sung the National Anthem and it is time for kickoff in the Memorial HS vs. Owasso HS football classic. It might even be Homecoming with the pretty girls in their frilly gowns sitting on the back of old ’58 Chevy Impala or ’59 Cadillac convertibles. I get goose bumps remebering the last time I was in the Sooner state for Homecoming in that neck of the woods.
N! I was in NJ when the “Amber Alert” cut into the episode of “Fresh Air” my aunt and I were listening to. Amazing how quickly the news got out, folks got rallied– you could just imagine the pitch forks and torches– and then unraveled to show, well, how quick we are to pick up pitch forks.