A Land of Alerts

When we left home for warmer climes we did so as a Norovirus alert was being sounded.  We carried bottles of germicide and virus-killing wipes for defense.  Along the way we kept an eye on the sky and listened for weather alerts that might necessitate a route change.  The first night of our trip I received an email with a Cyber Alert.  Homeland Security had firm evidence that terrorists planned to attack our financial and utility companies vast computer networks, playing havoc with our finances and leaving us in cold, dark homes.  Or cold, dark motel rooms.  Or dimly-lit Super Bowl seats, for those rich enough to afford them.

 

Just today I learned that person’s unknown were successful hacking into our nation’s public warning system.  They posted the following warning: 

 

LOCAL AUTHORITIES IN YOUR AREA HAVE REPORTED THE BODIES OF THE DEAD ARE RISING FROM THEIR GRAVES AND ATTACKING THE LIVING.  DO NOT ATTEMPT TO APPROACH OR APPREHEND THESE BODIES AS THEY ARE CONSIDERED EXTREMELY DANGEROUS.

 

A Zombie alert!!!  Posted by hackers with a sense of humor who will still be in big trouble if their identity is discovered.  Sure beats financial chaos or living in a cold dark home.

 

After visiting South Carolina and Savannah, we continued our journey southward along I-95.  After visiting St. Augustine to check out the fountain of youth (they want ten bucks for a drink with absolutely no guarantee it works), we continued our journey to Orlando.  South of St. Augustine we passed a sign advertising a “VEGETARIAN RECOVERY CENTER”.  At least what the sign outside “Smokin’ D’s BBQ” described the place as.

 

Though I am familiar with Amber Alerts, signs along Florida Interstates advised us of a Silver Alert.  A Silver Alert, we learned, is declared when a “cognitively-impaired” person is missing.  Sadly, I imagine that in Florida, Silver Alerts are not uncommon.  Twenty states (but not Missouri) have Silver Alert programs.  According to information I uncovered, if not found within 24 hours, up to half of wandering seniors with dementia suffer serious injury or death. 

 

Before our trip was over we encountered several “wandering seniors”.  Not on the highways - in Disney World’s massive parking lots.  Anytime we parked our car in the Magic Kingdom, I ALWAYS wrote down the section, row, and zip code where we left it.  One evening, as we neared our vehicle, two seniors approached us.  “WE FROM GERMANY.  WE CAN’T FIND OUR RENTAL CAR”.  “What kind is it?” I asked.  “Black” they replied. Well, we from Missouri, and we couldn’t find their rental car either.

 

I’m happy to report that by the grace of God and repeatedly pressing the EMERGENCY button on their key remote to activate their rental car's horn, they were finally reunited with their vehicle, danke shon you very much. Just in time, too.  They were so pooped their tongues were hanging almost down to their leiderhosen.