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sightseeing. Fortunately, it also allowed time for the bus to get lost, which it did—several times. By the time we reached the Carousel Restaurant in the Visitors Center of what is called officially Kennedy Space Center NASA, we were famished.
To our own pleased surprise, however, we were not bored. Florida, to any visitor, must appear flat as a pancake; to eyes accustomed to Rappahannock County’s constantly rising and descending horizons, its monotomy seems almost pathological. Nevertheless, it is a mistake to look away from the windows: in the ditches that line central Florida roads, there are alligators, much less diverted by the sight of us than we were by the sight of them; snowy egrets and blue herons lend a more delicate touch of enchantment to the landscape. And there are the armadillos, bless them.
Whoever expected armadillos to be charming? Having joined us shortly before we entered the gates of the space center, she was most knowledgeably, humorously, and interestingly explaining to us what we were seeing and were about to see. She was helping us deal matter-of-factly with ideas that we had once read about only in science fiction, and she was pretty besides, but time and again she was upstaged by the armadillos. 1 one of which looked to me very much as if he (she?) wanted in an armadilly kind of way. to race the bus—or chase h—to the Carousel. Not everybody knows that the Capt is a wildlife refuge, but the wildlife knows it; is fruitful, muhiplies. and has fun.
The Carousel system allowed our five busloads to satisfy our hunger within an amazingly short time, after which we dispersed among the various exhibits and shops that fill the Center. During the hours before the scheduled launch, h got a lot colder than most of us had expected or dressed for. and besides, our feet hurt. When, at about 7 o’clock, the launch was cancelled, the feelings of us all were well expressed by our Pennsylvania State Chairman.
“Well...,” he said, “It wasn't a total loss—thanks to the armadillos.”
The bus driver got lost again, but only once this time, on the way back to the hotel. Maybe it was our singing.
Friday, December 5, turned out to be old home week for us Virginians. Survivors poured through our
88.5%