Spencer and I went to Orlando for our anniversary this year. It seemed like something "interesting" or funny happened every day. I think I'll start with the biggest and most interesting one first although it happened last.
We were happily heading back to NC when we realized that the
Daytona Speedway was right off of I-95. Spencer thought it would be a great place to see, so we took the little detour.
There is a $24 charge for an
Imax show, a guided tour of the place, plus a few other things, but we were ready to get home. All Spencer wanted to do was see the track. A lady emp
loyee there kindly told us that we could go up into the grandstand for free, so we happily headed out there. We climbed all the way to the top, and looked out over the horizon. It's a huge track. As we were gazing over the horizon, Spencer noticed that a big gate (in the middle of the grandstands) was open. It looked like it would take us to the infield. Thinking that would be pretty neat, we we decided to head over that way. After discussing whether the route under or on the bleachers would be best we took the cooler route, the one down under. We climbed back out onto the grandstand right next to where the gate was when a golf cart came flying around the corner, and screeched to a halt. It sure made me jump. When the security guard jumped out, Spencer said, "I guess we're not supposed to be here, huh?"
"You're right about that, and I'm going to throw you out!" replied the security guard.
"We didn't know that we are not allowed to be here. No one told us that we couldn't be," was our reply. (Let me mention that we were always respectful although we were definitely spoken to otherwise.)
The security guard pointed to a group in the first section that we had been in originally. "Do you see those people over there? Do you see them over here? NO! They are where they are supposed to be! You don't see THEM trying to come over here, do you? Didn't you see that sign that said no spectators beyond this point?"
"No sir, I didn't." I replied respectfully.
"YOU didn't see that sign?
"No, sir."
Spencer said, "I saw it, but I thought it was for when the races were going on because it said spectators."
"NO! Spectator means you. We have that sign to keep you safe. YOU are a spectator, and I'm going to throw you out."
(I'm not exactly sure what we were spectating since there was absolutely nothing going on. I guess if we were waiting for the track to melt from the heat, that would have made us spectators.)
"OK, I guess we'll leave then," I
replied.
"NO! I'm going to throw you out!" was the retort. "You can come back tomorrow," He said as he let us through the unlocked gate. Spencer all the while was taking pictures. I guess we made his day. It must have been boring around there, or something.
My recommendation to
Daytona would be to look up the definition of spectator and change their sign to say, "Authorized
personnel only beyond this point." Oh, and maybe they could let their employees inside tell people that they are only allowed in the very first section of the grandstands. That would have been nice to know.
That was definitely a first for me, and hopefully a last. Spencer kept teasing me about stopping at all the race tracks that we passed on the way home. I've never really had the desire to go to one, and now that this happened, I don't have the desire to go to another one.
These were
evidently the original bleachers from the first section that was built. I got a kick out them.
I guess this is what getting thrown out of somewhere looks like.
"You can come back tomorrow."
For our special meal, we ate at the Melting Pot...a fondue restaurant. It was expensive, but I had found a $25.oo gift certificate online which helped out a lot. One day we're going to go back for dessert.
Some of our appetizers to be dipped in cheese sauce.
We chose a spinach cheese sauce
Ghirardelli's ice cream we split. Very rich, but good.
Free appetizer due to a coupon we found in a tourist book. It was good, but the pizza was the best.
Picture of us taken by the gentleman. 
