Getting Gatored – The Unimaginable Transcending – This is the Story of a Gator-Human Hybrid and The Power that Stopped it

Once upon a time, over Labor Day weekend 2008, my good friend Ashley was married to a lovely soul of a man, Kyle. The wedding took place on beautiful Sanibel Island during their hurricane season. As I flew from Chicago to Florida on a warm and humid August morning with one of the bridesmaids, Lauren ‘Tess Harding’ Lilley, I had no idea of the adventures or unimaginable transcending that would take place that long holiday weekend.

As the plane touched down and the two of us walked hastily through the heavily air conditioned airport, out of the electric doors and into the sunny Florida morning, goose bumps flooded our bodies as the hot morning sun hit our skin.

We excitedly hailed a cab and were soon on our way to the Sanibel Inn to share a room with our childhood friends, Jessica “Max Evans” Winchel and Rebecca “Isabel Evans” Winchel. As we drove the forty-minute trip staring at the hypnotic reflections of the palm trees on the car windows, a sign that read, ‘Beware of gators’, suddenly awoke me.

“Tess, did you see that sign,” I asked.

With a cackling laugh and slight poke of my rib, she replied, “Yeah, hope those gators don’t get us!”

Then, without expecting it, our cab driver turned around and began to warn us of all the monstrous effects a gator can have on a community.

“They can run up to 64 miles per hour for about 10 – 15 seconds straight,” warned the cab driver

“So, like, right now we are traveling at gator speed?” asked, Tess with a giggle.”

“Sure are,” said the cab driver.

We also learned that any body of water, no mater how deep, big or small contained a gator.

“So, like, that puddle, right there, has a gator living in it?” again asked, Tess.

“Sure does,” said the cab driver.

By the time we finally arrived to the Sanibel Inn you could almost visually see Tess’ head expand with all of the knowledge she now possessed about gators. Knowledge she knew could end up helping her save not only the lives of us, but the lives of many many Sanibel Island tourist and locals.

“HELLO!” Max and Isabel shouted in unison as they ran over to greet us.

Max and Isabel were brother and sister with a mysterious past.

“I really want to just hangout on the beach and have a few beers and talk and relax,” said Isabel, who was fond of alcohol, beaches and run-on sentences.

“All right, lets do it. Lets go get some beer,” said Max.

As we piled into the 2007 Subaru Max rented, we headed off to the Islands version of Wal-Mart, called Jack’s.

See, what we were slowly learning, is that said Jack owned almost everything on the Island, from the ice cream shops and bars to the gas stations and beer stands. You name it, and he owned it. And, apparently, he was also quite a chauvinist in the belief that he, himself, was superior to almost everyone. He had plastered photos of himself everywhere on the island from road signs to beer koozies – you couldn’t escape his wide and toothy grin.

As the four of us lounged, sprawled out on beach chairs sipping on beers that were held in multi-colored Jack’s koozies, we began talking, laughing and reminiscing over old stories.

When the sun began to lower, we knew it was time to go in and put our faces on for dinner. As this was our only night free before the wedding festivities began, we wanted to have as much fun as possible. We decided to head to a local restaurant called Sherlock Holmes. Upon arrival, we were surprised that only 2 tables had patrons at them - making a total of 4 locals at the bar.

As soon as we sat down, Tess began to get a cold and dark look in her eyes. She soon stood, and with an almost zombie likeness, walked straight to the ladies restroom where she stayed and dealt with an unknown ‘sickness’ until dinner had commenced.

We left the restaurant and headed to the only bar that was open. It was called, Jack’s. Surprise! In the same zombie tone, Tess let us know she was too tired to go into the bar and she would be sleeping in the car while we had our fun.

Jack’s (the bar, not the store or the koozies) was lined with dark mahogany wood and tables were sprinkled around a bar where a guy named Michael Guerin tended. The end of the bar led into an open area with a stage. Sitting atop the stage was a keyboard and a microphone where a curly haired woman was singing forgotten 90’s tunes along with a pony-tailed silver fox who was prancing around playing a flute.

The flautist played with such passion and vigor it was hard to tear your eyes away from him, especially for Max. As we danced and drank and sang, no one really thought or could have known the transformations that were happening in the Subaru.

The following morning, nursing a slight hangover, Max, Isabel, Tess and I went on a walk around the Island, but not before receiving a severe warning from Shelly, the Inn’s desk assistant, about the gators.

About half an hour after we left, as we walked down Little Bunny Drive, an eerie feeling came over all of us. It could have been due to the sky turning an odd shade of taupe as the hurricane clouds rolled in or it could have been the fact we had yet to see even one little bunny on Little Bunny Drive, but I think it was because we all had a sixth sense about what was about to happen.

Suddenly, rain started pouring from the sky. The curse words that were coming from our mouths were almost incomprehensible until we looked up and were silenced by the large toothy grin of a giant gator wearing ripped overalls buttoned to one side. And with the sweeping wave of one of his scaly arms, he spoke.

“Hi. I’m Jack.”

No one moved. No one knew what do to or what to stay. Isabel even let out a small and nervous fart.

Everyone jumped, including Jack, at the sound of Tess letting out a blood curdling scream. Her body started to convulse as the rain continued to fall. All of a sudden, long dark fibers began to grow out of every inch of her body as her hands curled around her ankles. What came next, no one could have ever imagined.

As she let out even more screams, with her rear-end facing Jack, a large vacuum sucking wind appeared to becoming from Tess’ bottom. Jack did everything he could to not get sucked in. His claws leaving huge tears in the pavement as he reached to grab a hold of any and everything in sight.

He began to scream, “Not the reverse gator fart!” But as soon as he said it, he was gone, sucked-up into Tess’ behind.

For a moment, Max, Isabel and I stood in silence and watched as Tess’ body became normal again. The rain stopped and the sun shown and she slowly stood. When she had composed herself, she gave us all a wink and said she was hungry for a hot n’ spicy beef jerky and some hummus.

No one ever spoke about Tess’ transcendence the night before (which is where she gained the power of the reverse gator fart) or how she saved the lives of virtually the entire island, not to mentioned Ashley’s wedding, until now. If anyone else out there has had a similar experience, please contact me.

Thank you,
Liz