When I told people that I was applying to be a lifeguard at Disney’s Blizzard Beach, those in-the-know would all smirk and say the same thing: “Watch out for snakes.” Of course, I thought they were joking - trying to elicit a squeal or a look of disgust, as most girls aren’t too keen on the slithering reptiles. But I’m not like most girls.

When I quickly discovered that Florida + water = SNAKES (even in January), I was thrilled. Initially, I only encountered ringnecks, a species barely the length of my hand. They are non-venomous and probably the chillest snakes I have ever met, to date. Fully aware that Florida was teeming with snakes and that my tiny companions wouldn’t be the only species I would encounter, any time I heard a rustling in the undergrowth, I would always keep a watchful eye out to make sure a new friend wasn’t trying to slip in for a dip.

Of course, my primary function as a lifeguard was to keep guests safe and lend a hand if they found themselves… in a bit over their heads, so to speak. Snake watch was usually fruitless and always took a backseat to my actual job duties, so I was very surprised the day that the two overlapped. This day began much like any other day, with me keeping my eye on passing guests as they floated down the lazy river. I only realized something was terribly wrong when, at the very edge of my periphery, I heard the word “animatronic.”

You see, I was a lifeguard working at Blizzard Beach, not a skipper on Disney’s Jungle Cruise. Aside from the colorful cartoon gator mascot statues, there were no fake animals in the park, so seeing that a few guests had stopped floating to admire our “animatronic” raised an immediate red flag. What were they looking at?

Using my best vantage point, I followed their gaze to the flora surrounding a small Gone Fishin’ sign where a stick fishing pole or two were positioned to make it seem like guests were floating by the best fishing hole in the park. But that’s not all I saw. Standing several feet tall and striking an aggressive stance was a very large, very real snake.

“SIR!” I shouted as the guest and his friends drew closer and closer to the danger like moths to a flame (presumably to admire the "Disney Magic"). “Sir, that is NOT an anamatronic!”

Perhaps he wanted it to pull his finger, because the man showed no sign of stopping. With his pointer outstretched, he just kept walking towards it! Had I been unclear? I was trying not to cause a scene, but the closer the man got, the more poised the snake became. With no other option, I yelled out in panic. “SIR, that’s a REAL SNAKE!”

Immediately, the man and his two friends froze, and half a dozen guests who had floated by without noticing our “anamatronic” snapped their heads toward me, on sudden high alert. I tried not to appear as completely helpless as I felt in that moment, raising my hands and life preserver in a soothing gesture as I yelled to the statuesque fear-struck trio upstream.

“Just back away slowly,” I instructed, trying to sound assuring while I was internally praying that we’d all make it through without anyone getting bit. “You’re going to be fine. I’m gonna to call animal control.”

Obediently, the guests began backing away. The snake, probably upset over my comment about animal control, stood even taller and began to wobble as if threatening to jump.

“Wha-what do we do?!” the gawkers asked, but their question quickly became a moot point as the one closest to the snake swept his arm back into the water then brought it quickly forward, creating a flushing wave onto the ground where the snake was standing...

…where the snake was standing.

Some people may not realize this, but it’s hard to keep your footing when you have no feet. It’s difficult to say whether or not the unwarranted wave was what caused the snake to jump into the lazy river that day or if it had already made up its mind to do so, but as the wave crashed onto the bank, the rather agitated snake hopped right on in and (thankfully) started swimming downstream, straight towards me.

It was mass hysteria. Parents grabbed their kids. People screamed. One man who found his rear was stuck in his innertube made an impossible, unassisted three-foot vertical leap from a seated position, landed on the far bank of the river and ran off with his butt still stuck in the tube. I had to do something!

“Everyone! Swim to the far side of the river!” I yelled, brandishing my life preserver. “I’ve got this! I’ve got this!”

At least, I thought I had a plan. In the seven seconds I had to react between the snake entering the water and reaching my location, I decided that I was going to use my life preserver to funnel the snake into position so that I could grab its head as it swam past. From what I had been able to make out, the snake appeared to be all black (probably a rat snake)… but as it swam closer, swiftly closing the distance, I wasn’t seeing black at all. It was more green or brown and it had yellow stripes. Florida had too many snakes for me re-identify it in time, and with the snake closing in, I was clearly out of my depth.

“I don’t have this! I don’t have this! SNAKE!” I yelled as the critter rocketed past. “Get out of the water! SNAKE!”

Somehow, no guests were injured, and thanks to the commotion, the snake was captured when it tried to flee the lazy river at the first exit it came to (less than 30 yards from where it entered). I felt a little sheepish for thinking I could handle the situation, but I was commended by my co-workers for keeping the snake away from the guests (and vice-versa). Although I’m still not sure what kind of snake it was, one thing I do know is that next time someone tells me to “watch out for snakes,” I’m definitely going to believe them.

(Missed PART1? Read it now!)