A Few Random Thoughts on Summer

Once again, summer is upon us. May I be the first to say, “Bleh!”

My kids will be out of school in less than two weeks. It’s the time of year for week-long slumber parties and family vacations.

Our family vacations usually consist of camping in some national park or other. This is getting less and less fun as the national parks get more and more crowded. We can thank major outdoor emporiums like Bass Pro and REI for bringing camping back in style. Car campers can be some of the most obnoxious people in the world. I don’t know about you, but I go camping to get away from the noise.

At one point I had thought about taking up backpacking. The idea of hiking into the woods, far away from the noise of the drunken revelers, had a certain appeal. I went on a few day-hikes to try it out, then realized how much work it was going to be. Besides, visions of having to fend off bears and mountain lions kept swimming through my head. The thought of having to prepare my wife and four teenage daughters for such a trip really put me off as well. “What do you mean there won’t be any electricity? How will I curl my hair? Bugs!? There’s going to be bugs?!”

We’re planning a trip to Disneyland in a couple of weeks. Disneyland bills itself as “The Happiest Place on Earth.” Of course, that’s how Disney World bills itself as well. I’m relatively sure that the other parks in Europe and Asia do so as well. Wouldn’t it be more accurate to say it’s “One of the Happiest Places on Earth?” And how can they be sure that it really is the happiest place on Earth? Have they done a study? Where’s the empirical evidence to substantiate such a claim?

At $83 a ticket I wouldn’t be too surprised if there are quite a few people that think Disneyland is the unhappiest place on Earth. I’m sure that kids, who don’t pay for their own admission, are pretty happy, but what about their parents? When you see two grown-ups with children at Disneyland you can always tell which one of them pays the bills. It’s the one that looks like he or she has been sucking on pickles all day while everyone else is grinning from ear-to-ear.

Fortunately for me, I have a relative that works at Disneyland. He can get us in for free… and we don’t even have to hop the fence. It’s kind of like being Mexican and having a cousin that works for the Border Patrol…

Expecting the Unexpec… Hey! What’s That!

So, I’m setting up a “safety card” for the employees of a well-known package delivery company today, and one of their safety points says: “Plan for the Unexpected.”

Um… Excuse me. Hello? If I plan for something doesn’t that, by definition, make it expected? I mean, there are plenty of things that I really don’t expect to happen.

For instance, I don’t expect aliens to land in the parking lot outside of my office and invite me to come be the king of a planet populated by buxom, blond Amazon women. I’m not even sure how I would begin to prepare for that. I suppose I could pack a few things in an athletic bag and keep it handy, just in case.

I also don’t expect to inherit billions of dollars from a long lost uncle. Does that mean I should quit my job and go max out all of my credit cards buying video games and Cheez-Doodles, because I’ll be able to pay it off soon?

And what if both of those things happen? Not that I expect them to. Can I take my money and my Cheez-Doodles to the Amazon planet?

Instructions like “Plan for the Unexpected” are really just designed to incite anxiety. I mean, it just makes me sit around and stress about things that probably aren’t going to happen. My life is complicated enough. I don’t need to go around inventing things to worry about.

Now, I’ve got to go. I don’t expect my house to be invaded by terrorists and my family taken hostage, but I need to get home just in case they do.

Fast Food Blues

TR and I went to In-N-Out last night for dinner. It was a special occasion, so we splurged for the fancy restaurant. No McDonalds for us, boy! We’re going for the good stuff!

Anyway, the line to the register was pretty long – as usual. After 10 minutes of toe-tapping fun, we finally made it to the front. The guy behind the cash-register had just enough time to smile at us when an elderly woman with a huge wig pushed her way up to the counter. Waving a mass of bun, lettuce, onions and tomatoes under the hapless cashier’s nose she said in a nasally voice, “This was supposed to be vegetarian-style. It looks like they put meat on it, and then realized their mistake and removed it. There’s grease on the lettuce.” Of course, the poor guy took the “burger” from her, apologizing profusely, and retreating back into the kitchen area to fix the problem. Well, by this time the other cashier was free to serve us, but instead of doing so, he just gave us an embarrassed half-smile and slunk off to have a smoke or something. We stood there looking stupid for another 10 minutes before someone realized we weren’t being helped. Now I love In-N-Out. I think it’s one of the finest fast-food places on the planet. They have great food, they actually clean their tables in between customers and the service is usually excellent. But if stuff like this continues to happen they might have to rename the place IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIn-N-Out.