Florida: Land of Terror

From 1982 until I left for college in 1997, I lived in Florida. It was a fine place to grow up, although we missed out on things like leaf piles and snow days, we got to go to the beach regularly and swim in our backyard pool for seven months of the year.

Of course there were alligators in Florida. For a few weeks when I was about five, one lived in the tiny pond behind our house. This was a source of fear for our mother, and a point of pride and interest with me. I remember that once, in Sunday School, we discussed how to escape them, because they’re fast runners. I always pictured them as fast as cheetahs, easily catching their human prey, miles from any body of water. Now that I think of it, though, I never saw an alligator further than a few feet from a body of water, and I never saw one run anywhere. They seem pretty sluggish. But whatever. You’re supposed to run in a zig-zag pattern, because their stubby legs don’t allow them to change course very easily. (Later I heard this was a myth).

Anyway, we lived with the threat of alligators the same way we lived with the threat of hurricanes or coral snakes. Sort of always there, but not really scary. One of those background threats that come with living in a sub-tropical state.

Now I hear that alligators are eating people down there on a regular basis. Someone referred to this as Land Shark!, which is a terrifying idea to me. Sharks can be avoided by staying out of the ocean, but a Land Shark! cannot be escaped.