They call the man "Pumpkin Top"
I don’t know who this man is.
(Does anyone else feel as if he’s channeling Merlin from Sword in the Stone circa the last 5 minutes when the wizard has just returned from vacation?)
Some say he goes by the name “Pumpkin Top” – referring to his choice of gourd headgear.
He is a regular guest at the Walt Disney World.
I didn’t know this.
I simply thought he was a fresh eccentric to the park.
A usual newcomer.
You know – coming from a distant country, wearing his native gear, sharing his culture with us – the ushje.
I thought that maybe somewhere in the world there was a possibility that orange wind-breaker shorts paired with wavy, gray beards was the norm.
But no, he’s not.
He’s basically a local.
My friend said she remembered serving him and his wife at a restaurant.
Another co-worker confirmed his regular visits and also informed me that, sadly, his wife was no more.
Now I know other things about Pumpkin Top, not only does he appreciate utility and effectiveness in travel gear (notice the fannyP with bonus key chains)…but he is a widower.
I’m not sure what else to say about this.
I tried making a clever, yet poignant statement about losing a spouse. But. I. Can’t.
This is not the place and I am not the person.
…I can only stand-back and admire PT’s surety. Surety in himself, confidence in his choice, security in his hobbies. When one goes to a family theme park alone, one usually wants to go unseen.
I’ve done so – having a fast pace and wearing the shades to be incognito.
But no, not PT.
He is here to be seen.
He is here to be secure.
He knows who he is.
And that’s why we stare.
A wizarding stare of admiration.
I’ve seen him at Disney. He had received four free photopass prints, and I was the one to print them for him. He left me a gift of about a handful (+/-) of halloween confetti, which I sorted out on my monitor and left for the person who would take over my station. He’s a nice guy.