We set out with a sense of foreboding. If you ever feel a boding, and later on something bad happens, that was a foreboding.
We were traveling from
Under my proposal, when you got to the airport, instead of walking through a metal detector, you'd go through a baby detector. If the alarm sounded, security personnel would search you, and if they found a baby, they'd place you in an airport detention facility until the baby had reached an age appropriate for flying (19 years).
Tragically, the airlines do not have such a system, so we were allowed to board the plane with Sophie. She was the only baby. All the other passengers were adults returning from cruise-ship vacations. A lot of them had those beads in their hair that cruise-ship passengers get after their judgment has been impaired by drinking banana daiquiris before breakfast. All these people wanted to do was sleep.
It was a four-hour flight, and it went very well for, I would say, six minutes. At that point, Sophie became fussy, in that way that babies get when the only thing that makes them feel better is to scream and kick the back of a seat containing a hung-over cruise-ship passenger. The people around us were not happy. One man kept glaring at us, as though we WANTED our baby to annoy everybody. If that man, who was in Seat 17A, is reading this, I just want to say to him, by way of a sincere apology: Sir, your wife looked REALLY ugly with those beads in her hair.
The good news is that after only two hours of fussiness, we found out what was wrong with Sophie. The bad news is, what was wrong was that she needed to throw up, in projectile fashion, all the food she has ever eaten since birth. She had been saving it up for this moment.
Now we were giving off an aroma so strong that it was detected by ground-based radar. ("Northwest 573, this is Air Traffic Control. Be advised that you stink.") Many passengers were asking the flight attendants for parachutes.
So it was not a fun flight, and I sincerely apologize to all of our fellow passengers, except the glaring man. I also apologize to Northwest, which probably had to burn the plane.
Other than that, our trip to
Where I come from, that's what we call a LOT of Statue of Libertys.
Fully enclosed spaces are popular in
In the middle of the Mall of America is -- I swear -- an amusement park. It has a roller coaster and various other rides, so that if you get tired of shopping and chewing, you can get sick.
Speaking of which, Sophie was great on the flight home. As far as I know. We sent her
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Mindless in Mickeytown
Every year, we return to Orlando, Fla. Instinct makes us do this. We're like the salmon who must swim upstream to spawn and die. They are lucky. We must go to theme parks. A theme park is an amusement park where you pay one blanket admission fee, which is quite steep, but once you're inside, everything is totally free, except all the other stuff you end up buying
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North Dakota is talking about changing its name. I frankly didn't know you could do that. I thought states' names were decreed by the Bible or something. In fact, as a child, I believed that when Columbus arrived in North America, the states' names were actually, physically, written on the continent, in gigantic letters, the way they are on maps.
It's time once again for Keyboard Korner, the computer-advice column that uses simple, 'jargon-free' terminology that even an idiot like you can grasp; the column that shows you how to 'take command' of your personal computer, if necessary by reducing it to tiny smoking shards with a hatchet.
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