It was a Friday night last February, the best night of the week and the best month of the year to be out on the town in Central Florida.
Mokie Joe and I had pulled off Interstate Four and into the friendly confines of Downtown Disney, looking to find the Mouse Factory's version of an "Authentic Irish Pub".
We parked the Miata in Dumbo-37, and, after a brisk 40 minute walk, were each parked behind a pint of Guinness in the Shane MacGowan room of the "Staggering Banshee" pub.
An audio-animatronic Celi Band was belting out traditional Irish music, (imagine a combination of the Chieftains and the Hall of Presidents), while highlights of Ireland's '90 World Cup appearance flickered on small TV screens above the ornately carved bar.
The TV appearance of Jack Charlton apparently made MJ think about a show called 'Samurai Jack', and he asked what I thought of it.
"I don't know Jack about Samurai", I said, chuckling quietly at my own cleverness. "Unless it's those guys who dress in black and get into your house by crawling on the ceiling...no...wait...that's Ninjas... never mind."
I was afraid I knew where this was going, talk of turtles and such, when something else grabbed my attention.
She had just entered through the bat wing doors and was standing by the green phone box leaning against the life sized statue of Michael Collins. Glittering pink hair, as if she shampooed with, well, glitter, and a shiny navy blue body suite that should never have passed the notice of Disney security caught my attention. No sooner had I said "Whoa, check out the pink haired babe" to Mokie, than she was sitting at our table!
"Why don't you check out the competitor's rates online instead?'" she said.
"Uh huh", I said...always the one with the snappy comeback.
She seemed small, almost fragile, with irritatingly quick body motions. Her face was animated, yet somehow without dimension. Maybe it was too much makeup...or perhaps she was just badly drawn.
As she began her clipped, one sided conversation about actuaries, binders and commutative contracts, the full horror of what was happening struck me.
"My God!" I thought to myself, "she's...a...an insurance agent!"
This was more horrible than if she were selling something else...Amway, HerbaLife...Jesus...anything but insurance!
As I slowly began to back away, I noticed Mokie Joe was just as slowly moving in.