Gangs roam Disneyland. Turf wars and occasional fisticuffs occur however Disney tolerates these activities.
Fashioned like biker gangs, these Disney gangs have vests, patches, probation and initiation rites. At last count, there are almost 100 separate gangs. It’s all fun and games until some gangs interact. Especially if they’re “DUI” or “Disney Under the Influence”. Yes, Virginia , Disneyland has places where beer is sold. These folks take Disneyland very, very seriously. With Park Passes in hand, they roam the park. They have been known to “claim” certain park benches or areas in the Park. “The Main Street Elite” for example claim um…Main Street.
There are many Disney social groups. The “Bikers” admit that they are on the weird end of the spectrum and like to emphasize that they there benign. They conduct fund raisers. Disneyland itself tolerates them because their number one rule is it fact, Disneyland’s number one rule.
“Do not damage the Disney Fantasy”
Gangs have sung to children on their First Visit. They pick up trash. Their code of conduct demands everyone follow park rules and not become “Treasured Guests”, Disney’s code word for disruptive visitors. Most “gangs” can be seen pushing strollers as they bring their kids to experience the “Magic of Disney”
The Dark Side
Like people everywhere, there are assholes that screw up the Good Times for everyone. A civil lawsuit filed in Orange County Superior Court has revealed a dark undercurrent to the pastime. Of course they did, it is California. The head of one club has accused another of using gangster-like tactics to try to collect “protection” money for a charity fundraiser at the park. The walk was due to take place on September 11, 2016, to benefit families of the firefighters killed during 9/11.
It sounds like a Mob movie set in a theme park. The Main Street Fire Station 55 accused the White Rabbits of extortion, invasion of privacy and intentional infliction of emotional distress.
Apparently, the White Rabbits offered to provide security for the fundraiser parade the Fire Station 55ers were holding for the low, low price of $500. That triggered the Rabbits and the fur flew.
Do you belong to one of these Disneyland social groups. If so, we’d love to hear from you in the comments below. Represent.
ON NOVEMBER SIXTH, 2019 I WENT FROM BEING A SASQUATCH BELIEVER TO A SASQUATCH “KNOWER”. NOTHING I’VE READ OR WATCHED HAD PREPARED ME FOR THE ENCOUNTER. IN NINTH GRADE A FRIEND OF MINE GAVE ME A BOOK ENTITLED, “STRANGE CREATURES FROM TIME AND SPACE”. IT IS A TONGUE IN CHEEK NARRATIVE OF ALL THINGS THAT GO BUMP OR GLOW IN THE DARK. BIGFOOT WAS AMONG THEM. I WAS ALREADY A UFO “KNOWER” BUT THAT’S ANOTHER STORY.
OVER THE YEARS, MY OPINION OF BIGFOOT WAS SKEPTICAL AT BEST. I WATCHED ALL THE DOCUMENTARIES. THEN I WATCHED “SCIENCE MEETS SASQUATCH” AND MY SKEPTICISM STARTED TO FADE. I BOUGHT THE BOOK AND BECAME A BELIEVER. THE BELL CURVE GRAPH OF SASQUATCH FOOT LENGTH APPEALED TO THE MATHEMATICIAN IN ME. NUMBERS DO NOT LIE.
IN 2017, WE MOVED FROM LAS VEGAS NEVADA TO CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA. I HAVE BEEN IN AND OUT OF CHARLESTON FOR ELEVEN YEARS AND WANTED TO RETIRE THERE. MY GRANDCHILDREN LIVE THERE. MY DAUGHTER WANTED TO GO TO COLLEGE IN SOUTH CAROLINA. I WANTED TO RETIRE TO A PLACE THAT REMINDED ME OF WHAT CALIFORNIA USED TO BE WITH TREES AND AN OCEAN. THE PROSPECT OF DOING SOME “SQUATCHING” WAS IN MY MIND. THE MARION FRANCIS NATIONAL FOREST BECKONED TO ME. ACCORDING TO THE BFRO, THERE ARE NOT MANY BIGFOOT SIGHTINGS IN SOUTH CAROLINA. I THINK THAT’S BECAUSE THEY’RE CALLED “BOOGERS” NOT “BIGFOOT” AROUND HERE. THE LOCALS HAVE STORIES OF THE ASHLEY RIVER “SWAMP MONSTER”.
WHEN WE SETTLED INTO OUR NEW HOME, I DID NOT THINK I’D STUMBLE ONTO ANY BIGFEET. HOWEVER, ONE MORNING WAITING FOR A CREDIT UNION TO OPEN UP, I SAW A BIGFOOT STICK STRUCTURE RIGHT AT THE EDGE OF THE PARKING LOT. I INVESTIGATED, TOOK PICTURES .
NOW FOR THE GOOD PART. ON THE SIXTH OF NOVEMBER, 2018, I DROVE MY DAUGHTER BACK TO COLLEGE. I DROPPED HER OFF AND GOT BACK ON THE ROAD AT MIDNIGHT. IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL NIGHT. I ROARED DOWN HIGHWAY 77 AT SPEEDS A PATROLMAN WOULD FROWN AT. BY 0130, I HAD PASSED A COUPLE OF CARS THAT HAD RUN OFF THE ROAD AND WAS FEELING GUILTY FOR NOT STOPPING. IT WAS THEN THAT I SPOTTED THE BLUE LIGHTS. MY GPS HAD TAUGHT THAT THE HIGHWAY PATROL HAD PULLED SOMEONE OVER ABOUT A MILE AHEAD. I TOOK MY KIA SOUL OUT OF LIGHT SPEED.
I WAS IN THE RIGHT LANE. THE SHOULDER OF THE ROAD WAS SMALL. THERE WAS ABOUT 30 FEET OF TALL GRASS AND THEN THE MASSIVE TREELINE. THE MOON WAS FULL AND THERE WAS A LOT OF LIGHT OF THE TOWNS AND CITIES BEING REFLECTED FROM THE LOW CLOUD COVER. VISIBILTY WAS NOT A PROBLEM. IT WAS THEN THAT I SAW A MAN STAND UP THE GRASS. HE STEADIED HIMSELF WITH HIS ARMS OUT AND THEN FLOPPED BACK DOWN.
I SLOWED DOWN FURTHER AND WONDERED IF THE TROOPERS HADN’T FOUND HIM AND MAYBE HE WAS HURT FROM A WRECK. I WAS PREPARING TO STOP AND RENDER AID WHEN THIS “THING” CAME AT ME IN THE GRASS. I WAS BEWILDERED BECAUSE IT DEFINITELY WASN’T A MAN. I HAD READ ALL ABOUT BIGFOOT IN THE “TURBO MODE” BUT THAT HAD NOT PREPARED ME FOR WHAT I SAW. I SWEAR TO GOD THAT IT LOOKED LIKE A HUGE HAIRY SPIDER COMING AT ME ALL ARMS AND LEGS. MY SPEED HAD DROPPED INTO THE 40’S AS IT CAME CLOSER AND NOW LOOKED LIKE A SOLDIER DOING A LOW CRAWL BUT MUCH TOO FAST. WHEN WE PASSED EACH OTHER, EVERYTHING SLOWED DOWN FOR ME LIKE WHEN YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING TO CRASH. I DID HAVE THE THOUGHT FLASH THROUGH MY MIND THAT IT WOULD LEAP ONTO THE PAVEMENT AND I’D HIT HIM.
I REMEMBER EVERY DETAIL AS WE PASSED. IT WAS AT A RANGE OF ZERO. IF SOMEONE WERE IN THE PASSENGER SEAT, THEY COULD’VE ROLLED DOWN THE WINDOW AND TOUCHED IT. EVERY WINDOW ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE CAR WAS FILLED WITH THE DARKEST BLACK FUR I’VE EVER SEEN. I SAW NO HEAD, NO HANDS OR FEET. JUST FUR AND RIPPLING MUSCLES. I SNAPPED OUT OF IT IN TIME TO SWERVE INTO THE LEFT LANE AND PASS THE SPEEDER AND TROOPER.
THIS HAPPENED ON HIGHWAY 77, NORTH OF COLUMBIA, SOUTH CAROLINA. I DID NOT STOP TO GET A GPS LOCATION. ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS GET HOME. ALL THE WAY TO MY EXIT HOME I WAS TALKING TO MYSELF TRYING TO DIGEST WHAT I HAS SEEN.
“THAT WAS A BLACK BEAR. THAT WAS A BLACK BEAR”. “NO IT WASN’T” “YES IT WAS, SHUT UP.”
WHEN I GOT HOME, I GOOGLED BLACK BEARS IN SOUTH CAROLINA. I FOUND OUT THERE ARE TWO GROUPS. THE COASTAL GROUP AND THE INLAND GROUP. THESE ARE SEPARATED BY A WIDE MARGIN RIGHT DOWN THE CENTER OF THE STATE. GUESS WHERE MY ENCOUNTER WAS? RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PARTS OF SOUTH CAROLINA THAT THE BEARS DON’T WANT TO GO.
I TOLD MY WIFE THAT I WAS AFRAID TO
GO IN THE WOODS NOW. “ARE YOU AFRAID OF
TREES NOW?”, SHE ASKED. “NO, I JUST DON’T
WANT TO COME ACROSS A BIGFOOT.”
“BUT YOU LIKE BIGFOOT.”
“I DO BUT I ALSO LIKE LIONS AND LIKE TO SEE THEM IN THE ZOO. I DON’T NOT WANT TO COME ACROSS ONE IN THE FOREST.”
THAT’S WHERE I’M AT WITH BIGFOOT
NOW. I DO NOT WANT TO COME ACROSS ONE IN
THE FOREST AND BET MY LIFE THAT IT’S IN A FRIENDLY, LOVING MOOD.