By popular demand

On the Adventurers Club thread, several people have asked to hear the story of how I proposed to Kathleen at the AC. Herewith the column I wrote describing the event. If nothing else it might give people some feel for the depth of attachment we feel for the place.

“I have a plan…and it’s so cunning you could stick a tail on it and call it a weasel.”
–Edmund Blackadder
I wasn’t going to write about this, but several friends of mine in the fan community have told me I should because they thought you guys might be interested. And I suppose it’s somehow appropriate: Although it was never anything I’ve intended, I’ve lived my life in this column. Ups, downs, good times and bad; it’s been like weekly therapy sometimes, the differences being that I don’t have to pay for it and I’ve got about twenty thousand therapists…most of whom don’t say all that much to me in terms of guidance, but then again, many therapists just sit and listen, and the only time they speak is when they say, “Time’s up.”
So…
I decided to ask Kathleen, my girlfriend of three years, to marry me.
It was not something I did lightly, and certainly not without some degree of trepidation. The dissolution of my marriage to Myra had left me with—shall we say—trust issues. I’m sure anyone who’s been through a busted relationship…which is probably just about everybody reading this…can relate. Nevertheless, it felt good, it felt right, and it felt like it was time. But how to do it? I only knew that I wanted to do something stylish, because I felt she deserved it. And I also knew that I wanted as many of my children as possible to be present when I did it, because it was going to affect them as well. If they were going to share in her being their stepmother (something I knew they supported since I’d spoken to each of them about it individually), they should also get to share in the emotionality of the moment rather than Kathleen and I just coming back from a dinner and our saying, “Guess what?” Only one place seemed suitable:
Disney World.
We were going to Disney World anyway on a family vacation at the beginning of September: The first one in three years, and the first sojourn to the Mouse House since the marriage had fallen apart. Shana was flying down from college to join us, so we’d all be together, staying in one of those cool family-sized cabins at Ft. Wilderness. The question then became, Where at the Park? One popular place was the restaurant inside the Castle; it’s such a popular venue for popping the question that there’s a whole department in Disney that helps stage proposals there. But if there was one thing I’d learned, it was that relationships weren’t storybook, weren’t flights of fancy. They were more of…an adventure. And that’s when it hit me:
The Adventurers Club.
To use the official Disney description, the Adventurer’s Club—situated on popular night spot Pleasure Island—is “an interactive entertainment experience in a setting reminiscent of the fictional 1930’s gentleman adventurer clubs, as depicted in Hollywood films of that era…Think of the AC as a theater that is presenting a play. In ordinary theaters, the audience is seated while the action continuously unfolds on the stage in front of them over a fixed, limited period of time. The AC, however…(has) the action sporadically occur all around you, even to the extent of your functioning as an extra in the play. At the AC you are a visitor to the Adventurers Club, circa 1935, and are treated as such by the resident cast of characters.” The cast includes “Fletcher Hodges, the slightly off-center Club curator,” “Graves the Loyal Club Butler,” and others. But two other characters, found in the club’s man salon, are Babylonia and the Colonel. Babylonia is a gigantic talking goddess mask, and the Colonel is a 1930s-style British Raj-style officer. Both of them are puppets.
It was perfect. Kathleen is, by trade, an editor, but by training, a puppeteer. The plan leaped from my brow fully formed (scaring the cats and knocking over the furniture): I, the writer, would write a script for one of the puppets, who would then propose to the puppeteer in the Main Salon at the AC…provided I could get the folks at the AC to go along with it.
A few calls to Disney put me together with a fellow named Bill Shepherd. I’m still a little murky on his exact position there, but he was definitely the go-to guy for setting something like this up. I explained exactly what I wanted to do, and sent him the copy for what I’d want the Colonel (it was quickly decided that he would be the more appropriate conveyor of the proposal) to say:
“You’re here in the Adventurer’s Club, Kathleen, so you must be an adventurous girl. Tell you what, Kathleen: I’m going to invite you to take part in an adventure right now You see, the rather round fellow you’ve been dating for the past three years—Peter–is standing next to you with an engagement ring. And Peter’s hoping that you will accept this proposal of joining in the adventure of marriage, and become a wife to him and a stepmother to his three daughters—preferably not an evil stepmother, because we all know where that leads. What say you, Kathleen–?”
Of course, if she said no, I’d look like the king schmuck of the Universe. But then again, writing this column for ten years has certainly prepared me for that feeling.
Shepherd set the whole thing up. The question of course was when. I worked out an itinerary of our stay at the Park one evening and casually said to Kathleen, “How about we hit Pleasure Island on the 3rd (of September), say, around…oh…” “Ten PM,” suggested Kathleen. “That sounds fine,” I said, and gleefully informed Shepherd of exactly when we’d be there. He had to know the time so that the Club “members” could work the proposal deftly into the evening’s activities without throwing the normal schedule off. I was told to touch base with “Fletcher Hodges” as soon as I arrived in order to put the thing into motion. “He’ll be wearing a pith helmet and a skirt; he should be easy to spot,” Shepherd assured me. Everything was in place.
Now—here was the slight wrinkle in the cunning plan.
My sister Beth and her husband Rande had decided to go down to Disney World for a second honeymoon. They were arriving early on the 3rd. Beth had not told me of this impromptu plan, because what she had concocted with Kathleen was that they would meet up with us at the Adventurers Club to surprise me. So now we had two siblings both trying to arrange surprises, with Kath the coconspirator of one and the target of another. Naturally, we wound up working at cross purposes to one another.
The morning of the 3rd, while we were all walking around at Universal (you MUST do the Spider-Man ride) Kathleen got a call on her cellphone. She said “Unh huh,” and “okay, sure,” a couple of times, hung up, turned to us and said, “That was Sheila (Kathleen’s sister). Had to ask me something.” We shrugged and thought no more of it. But in point of fact, it had been Beth calling to say, “Y’know…why don’t we make it nine o’clock instead? Ten might be a little late for us.” Kathleen said no problem, waited an hour or so (so we wouldn’t associate what she was saying with the phone call) and then said, “How about we go to the Adventurers Club at nine tonight instead of ten? Because I don’t know how much energy I’ll have left by the end of the day.”
Well, now I was screwed. If I said, “No, no, we have to stick to 10 o’clock,” it’d sound suspicious. So I did the only thing I could: I said, “Sure. That sounds fine. Nine it is.” Fortunately since it was hot out, the sweat on my brow seemed perfectly understandable. But inwardly I was panicking, because we were going to arrive an hour early and the whole thing was in danger of being thrown out of whack. Ten o’clock was the time, all was in place, the puppeteer who operated the Colonel was ready to go. For all I knew he wouldn’t even be around an hour earlier. I had to find a way to alert the folks at the AC that there was a change in plans…except I had no direct line for the Adventurers Club (and there wouldn’t be anyone there during the daytime anyway), Bill Shepherd had the day off so he wasn’t around, and besides, I was never alone. The girls or Kathleen were with me at all times. This was, after all, about family togetherness. So I had to find a way to ditch my loved ones long enough to wend my way through the Disney phone chain and connect directly with the AC to alert them. And somewhere, at that moment, Beth and Rande were gleefully rubbing their hands together, anticipating the look on my face when I saw them that evening, not realizing that their good-heartedness had just thrown my cunning plan out of whack.
By 6 PM I was sweating bullets. Kathleen, Gwen, Shana, Ariel and I had returned to the cabin at Fort Wilderness, preparing to go out to dinner at a restaurant at the Grand Floridian, and I still had been unable to break away and inform the AC of the change in plans. Still, I couldn’t resist one moment of personal whimsy: Kathleen, in prepping to go out, said, “Should I wear my hair up or down?” “Down,” I said. “I mean, I think it looks better that way, and I’d want you to look your best tonight.” “Why?” she asked, curious at my phrasing. “Because,” I said suavely, “I’m positive that when we’re in the Adventurer’s Club, every eye will be on you.” “Flatterer,” she said.
Meantime, we’d been informed that a package was waiting for us at the Fort Wilderness Trading Post. We knew what it was: It was stuff we’d bought in the park the day before that we’d had shipped to FW so we wouldn’t have to schlep it around. The thought was that we’d hop in the car, swing by the Trading Post, pick up the package and head out.
That’s when I came up with my new cunning plan. Complaining of stomach pains, I went into the bathroom, shut the door…and proceeded to make loud retching noises. It wasn’t that difficult: My stomach was in knots anyway. I came out and said that something we’d had at lunch disagreed with me. “Tell you what,” I said, looking wan, “why don’t you guys go on ahead to the Trading Post…give me a few minutes to pull myself together…come back and pick me up.”
Immediately solicitous, Shana said, “Why don’t they go and I’ll stay here and keep you company.” “Me too!” Ariel piped up.
Desperate beyond measure, I shouted, “Will you just friggin’ go and leave me alone for a few minutes?!?”
“What a grouch,” sniffed Shana, and off they went. The instant I heard the car pull out I was on the phone. First I couldn’t get an operator. Then when I finally did, the operator rang the AC. No answer. She tried another number there. Still no answer. Third number. No answer. I kept an eye on the window, getting more frantic. One last number—and a bartender at the AC picked up just as I saw the car coming back. The message I gave him must have sounded incoherent: “Tell Fletcher that the guy Bill Shepherd told him will be showing up with the proposal thing with the Colonel will be there at nine instead of ten!”
“Which Fletcher?” said the bartender. “Different people play Fletcher on different nights; what if the Fletcher that Bill Shepherd spoke to called in sick and the guy playing him tonight doesn’t know what you’re talking about?””
“Great. Thanks. Something else for me to worry about,” I said crankily. “Just do the best you can, okay?” And I hung up an instant before the car honked for me, grabbed the engagement ring out of the shoe that I’d smuggled it down in, shoved it in my pocket and ran out the door.
At the restaurant were all sorts of really nice looking dishes…none of which I could reasonably have since I’d just “thrown up” minutes before, so naturally I had to stick with something mild. I wound up ordering mac and cheese off the kid’s menu. Everyone at dinner was very solicitous of me, probably because I looked like a nervous wreck, which I was. What if the whole thing fell apart? What if she said no? Geez, what if she said yes? Was I ready for this, really? Three years, which had seemed so long to be together, suddenly seemed like “only” three years. My guess is that if Kath hadn’t known Beth and Rande were expecting to meet us there, she would have suggested we cancel the evening excursion entirely, because I was a mess.
We got to the Adventurer’s Club at five minutes to the appointed hour. “Fletcher Hodges,” the club’s curator and my contact, was standing by the door acting as greeter. We entered, me bringing up the rear, and I said in a low voice, “My name’s Peter…Bill Shepherd said I should touch base with you…”
Immediately he replied, “Yes, I know, everything’s ready.” I breathed a sigh of relief and then I said, in a slightly louder voice, “Could you tell me where the men’s room is?”
Fletcher immediately said jauntily and loudly, “The men’s room? Certainly! Why, I’ll show you there myself!” And off we marched, getting a very strange look from Gwen. Once we rounded a corner, Fletcher pulled me through a “cast only” door and, in private, we locked down the final details. At 9:05 the Adventurers members were going to embark on their radio broadcast (don’t ask) in the library. That let out at 9:25 into the Main Salon, where the Colonel was, and that’s when the Colonel would involve Kathleen in the discussion leading to the proposal. Kath wouldn’t suspect anything at first, because the Colonel habitually busted on people in the crowd, so she wouldn’t wonder why he was singling her out; she’d just chalk it to luck of the draw.
The radio show was in particularly fine form. Even my tough-to-impress teenagers were roaring with laughter. I was feeling more relaxed with each passing moment. We emerged into the Main Salon and the Colonel, on cue, came to life. He verbally fenced with the crowd for a moment or two, looked over in our direction and said, “Hello, young lady, what’s your name?”
Immediately Gwen piped up, “Gwen!” I felt a momentary return of panic: If the Colonel wasn’t paying attention to the names, or had limited vision, I was going to wind up proposing to my fifteen-year-old daughter. Without missing a beat, the Colonel said, “Hello, Gwen, and who’s the young woman next to you?” “Kathleen,” she replied. “Kathleen! My, you’re a tall drink of water, aren’t you!” said the Colonel. He started to banter with her and then went into the scripted material. My heart was racing. I reached into my pocket, ready to pull out the engagement ring on cue.
And then a low voice said, almost in my ear, “Hey, aren’t you Peter David? I’m a big fan!” I thought, Oh, geez, not now, and I turned and Beth was standing there, grinning. Rande was just behind her. I blinked like an owl in a spotlight, and suddenly my attention was divided. On the one hand my mind was racing with questions as to what my sister and her husband were doing hundreds of miles from home, and on the other hand the Colonel was fast approaching the point at which he would say, You see, the rather round fellow you’ve been dating for the past three years—Peter–is standing next to you with an engagement ring. If I was talking to Beth instead of holding the open box in my hand, everything would come unraveled. So I grabbed her by the side of the head, pulled her ear toward me and whispered, “Just listen!”
I switched my attention back to the moment just as the Colonel was saying “rather round fellow” and pulled the box from my pocket, flipping it open like Captain Kirk would a communicator. By this point the throng of about a hundred people suddenly realized something genuine, as opposed to staged, was going on and became totally caught up in it. When the light hit the ring, people started “awwwiiing” or reacting with similar comments of surprise. Tears worked their way down Kathleen’s cheek as the dime dropped. Shana immediately startled yelling, “Out of the way!” as she swung her camera up and began snapping pictures. Gwen was grinning. Ariel was incandescent. Fletcher, on a balcony overhead, was videotaping it. There were more photograph records of this than the JFK assassination. The Colonel continued, “And Peter’s hoping that you will accept this proposal of joining in the adventure of marriage, and become a wife to him and a stepmother to his three daughters—preferably not an evil stepmother, because we all know where that leads,” and then arrived at the one moment that was completely out of my hands: “What say you, Kathleen–?”
Well, she said yes, and everyone cheered, and the manager of the Adventurer’s Club brought out a bottle of champagne (the good stuff) compliments of the AC, which we promptly cracked open. It was a good thing Beth and Rande were there because they helped us drink the champagne. And then Kath ran off to call her folks while I managed to get my pulse down to something normal. And when she came back, I put my arms around her and said, “Told you every eye in the Adventurer’s Club would be on you.”
So that’s how Kathleen and I got engaged. And if you’re ever at Pleasure Island, swing by the AC and give Fletcher and the others a hearty “Kungaloosh!” from the future Peter and Kathleen David.
(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at To Be Continued, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705. China pattern will be registered at the Magic Kingdom.)