Team Rodent - Carl Hiaasen [18]
Then he began to introduce the mystery guest. Quickly we figured out it was Nicholas Daniloff, the correspondent for U.S. News and World Report who days earlier had been released from a Soviet prison. Daniloff had been seized by the KGB on bogus charges of espionage, retaliation for the arrest of an alleged Russian spy in the United States. Daniloff’s detention had been front-page news for two weeks, with Soviet authorities threatening a public trial. If convicted, he could have been sentenced to death. Finally Daniloff had been freed in a diplomatic swap for the accused Soviet spy.
The Disney gig would be the American reporter’s first public reappearance on U.S. soil. It would take place before a large crowd of colleagues who considered him a genuine hero, and at a high-visibility event celebrating the heritage of liberty—for Disney, another masterstroke of PR.
But before Burger concluded the introduction, who should appear onstage behind him but Mickey Mouse. The saucer-eared idol stood there, jauntily swinging his overstuffed arms, waiting for the former chief justice to finish. To the reporter next to me I whispered: “Watch the Mouse! They’re going to get the Mouse to hug Daniloff.”
“No!” The reporter didn’t believe even Disney would try such a stunt.
Yet that was precisely the plan: a fuzzy vermin hug for the returning political hostage—and a photograph. A photograph that would have run prominently in every newspaper in the free world: Mickey welcomes Nicky home from the Commie hoosegow!
We watched Team Rodent’s choreography unfold with a mix of distaste and awe. Daniloff, pale and tired-looking, appeared in the wings. Sure enough, as soon as he strode onstage, the Mouse—that is to say, the person dressed up in the mouse outfit—wheeled with outstretched cotton arms …
And Daniloff, God bless him, deftly dodged the hug and breezed right past. Mickey was left grasping at ether. It was spectacular.
We gave our fellow journalist a hearty standing ovation, mostly for his grit in Moscow but also for his slick juke on the cartoon pest. Later a Disney spokesperson acknowledged that the company had been hoping for a photo of the two together. He said he saw nothing crass or demeaning in the idea, and I believe him. He truly didn’t see it.
Jungle Book
APOLOGIES IN ADVANCE for the dead-rhinoceros story, but it must be told, mainly for what it says about my state of mind. Also, I’ve seen the pictures.
In the spring of 1998, over the protests of antizoo activists, Walt Disney World opened a theme park called Animal Kingdom. “From Dinos to Rhinos,” promised the advance press release. “This newest and fourth major theme park at Walt Disney World Resorts sprawls across 500 acres reconfigured to look amazingly like animal reserves of Africa or Asia.”
Typical Disney: Honey, I shrunk the Serengeti!
The new park offers the formulaic payload: fast-paced, telegenic, politically correct facsimiles of adventure. For instance, visitors are educated about threatened wildlife on a thrill ride called Countdown to Extinction. Meanwhile, a mock safari tracks ruthless elephant poachers through the bush.
But there’s something different: “Celebrating man’s enduring fascination with animals of all kinds, the new park provides natural habitats for more than 1,000 animals.… Rare and wonderful creatures, native to far-off lands, will include elephants, hippos, rhinos, antelope, lions, gorillas and much more, roaming freely. Natural barriers for safety are nearly invisible.”
Incredible but true: Animal Kingdom is inhabited by real wild animals—not robots, not puppets, not holograms, not cartoons, but living and breathing creatures that (unless Disney starts tranking them) will eat, sleep, drool, defecate, regurgitate, sniff each other’s crotches, lick their own balls, and occasionally even copulate