Zero to Hero and Back Again

I have experienced many humiliating moments in my lifetime. So much so that not much embarrassment can penetrate the thick, leathery wall that hides what is left of my soul. One especially mortifying experience is feeling the exuberance of being a hero and to have the moment stripped away leaving only the sting of humiliation as you stand in front of the crowd. I liken it to Superman flying through a window of a burning skyscraper to save a baby that a mother on that street has been screaming is left inside. Moments later he reappears smiling and waving at the crowd until everyone realized that the only thing he rescued was a Baby Wets-a-lot doll. Poor Superman.

Speaking of embarrassment.  Poor high school drop outs.

This is the very ordeal that I endured one day when I was working at Disneyland. As many of you know I worked my way through college by working at “The Happiest Place on Earth” and spend many a day walking around the Park making sure everything was going smoothly. If you have ever visited the Park you know that there are parades that run through the center of it at various times during the day in which thousands of excited people line up with their kids to get a good look. It was during this time, as the masses gathered to watch the Hercules parade, which my rise from zero to hero occurred.

It's the Happiest Place on Earth!

I received a call on my radio that there was a fire in a trashcan. This was a common occurrence because smokers often times forget that a cigarette burns and when you place a burning object into a container full of paper it will start on fire. Difficult concept, I know. By the time I arrived at the trashcan smoke was billowing out of it. I quickly opened the side of the trashcan, pulled out the plastic receptacle and through the smoke I put my leg inside and started stomping. After a few moments the smoke stopped and thunderous applause started. Everyone around praised my quick reaction and I heard, “Nice job!” and “My hero!” all around me. I smiled and nodded as if to say, “All in a day’s work.”

And for the sake of my newly polished shoes don't throw them in poopie diapers.

On a side note I learned to not use a fire extinguisher on trashcan fires a few months before. In that case I pulled out the trash receptacle and blasted the smoke with a full tank of fire retardant only to turn around to a fire fighter holding a Dixie cup of water. He shook his head and walked off muttering something about having to refill the extinguisher.

In case of fire hide in this corner.

Anyway, back to the story. As I was nodding and waving to the crowd I took my leg out of the smoldering bin. It was then I heard the cheers turn to laughter. I quickly looked down to see my finely polished shoe, and stuck to my finely shoe was a half burned poopie Snug-Fit Huggies diaper. Yes, when the cigarette fell into the trashcan it ignited a poopie diaper which I quickly stamped out. The crowd, who just moments ago where chanting my praise, was now pointing and laughing as I desperately tried to shake off the surprisingly sticky diaper.

I'm a hero!  Yes!  Wait... what?

It was then, walking back to the locker room with every other step making a squish sound, I realized that my hero status had disappeared quicker than a Krispy Kreme donut in my hand on Sunday morning. I now realize that short of wetting myself in front of hundreds of people there really isn’t much that will embarrass me. This will really come in handy when I drop my future teenagers off in front of their high school while blaring show tunes.

The First Diaper Change

It was about seven hours, if I remember right, after the birth of our first child when my beautiful wife noticed that our new bundle of joy had made his first little poopie. She had just underwent a Caesarean section so she was in no shape to change the little poopie so I took my new son and places him on the hospital’s changing table. My cute little baby boy looked up at me with only one eye open like poopie little pirate.

Yarrr!  Change me diaper!

As I unfastened the sides of the miniature diaper… Now let me pause for a moment. The people who call what babies do when they are born “poopie” are liars. Poopie is a cute word that implies tiny cute poops but what comes out of a newborn baby is nothing like what the name alludes to. The medical field calls it meconium. It is a thick, black tar-like substance that is clingier than a lonely guy at a singles bar. Anyway… back to the story.

Are you sure you don't want to give me your number?   My mom says I'm a real catch.

As I unfastened the sides of the diaper I quickly noticed that my baby’s diaper looked like BP had been there first. What I was looking at was something that was created in the furthest depths of hell and somehow crawled out of my child’s rear-end. It gurgled and I am quite sure I heard it say, “I have come for you.”

Above: Artist's Rendition of what was seen.

At this moment in time I quickly realized that no one has taught me how to change a diaper. I looked over at my wife who apparently had ample enough energy to get the camera and was taking snapshots of the situation at hand, laughing the entire time. She advised me to go get the nurse.

I raced out of the room to the nurse’s station and quickly alerted them there was an emergency in the room. The four nurses sprang into action and with stethoscopes flying they ran down the hall to our room. It was like a scene from ER as they darted into the room one at a time and quickly huddled around my wife who was just lying on the bed smiling and pointing at the baby. The four of them swung around and I saw their eyebrows rise as they took in the whole scene; a panicked father standing next to his naked newborn son who had kicked black snot all over himself. I must admit it wasn’t one of my finest moments.

I have learned that certain equipment is needed for this type of endeavour.

There was quite a bit of eye rolling as three of them left the room. One nurse had mercy on me and stayed to clean up the boy and put a new diaper on him, all the while lecturing me on how “we do not leave a newborn baby alone on the changing table.” She apparently did not understand the full scope of the situation. After she finished cleaning the baby, the changing table, the wall, floor and parts of me she walked out of the room shaking her head.

The only thing worst than an eye roll head shake is a facepalm.

Once the nurse had left I turned to see my wife giggling happily with camera in hand. The poor thing must have been sitting on the morphine button.

By the way, if you are wondering what happened to the pictures of this event… boy… I just don’t know…