Of Laptops and Liberty Bells

My hands trembled. My heart picked up its pace to a fast trot. Sweat broke out on my forehead. How could I have been so stupid? Why hadn't this occurred to me before? I was going to be...

Four days without email.

I've done it before, of course. A day here. A day there. And visits at the holidays with my dad, for instance, have allowed me a quick connection with all that is online once a day using his system. But an upcoming trip to Philly for a four-day weekend, to meet some blogging friends, would leave me wholly unconnected...

Adrift.

Lost.

And totally dissing you guys!

I got a little nauseous and my head went swimmy just thinking about it. So in an impulsive move toward technological spending entirely rare for me (remember, I'm one of the few people left in the country without a cell phone), I broke down and bought a laptop.

And wow, are laptops smaller than they were when I had one in college! At that time, they weighed about 40 pounds and whose lap they were designed to fit-- that big guy from The Green Mile? the fat lady from an old timey carnival side show? the entire World Wrestling Federation cast?-- it's hard to say. I just recall hefting this giant bag down long airport corridors as it carved a channel into my shoulder so deep, it would have been worthy of tacking on to the Grand Canyon and inviting tourists.

We'd have made our money mainly through the postcard and t-shirt sales.

Anyway, I'm looking forward this weekend to meeting blogging friends Claire and JD in Philadelphia. As Claire is visiting from the UK, it will be JD's and my job to be ambassadors for our country and ensure she sees all the important historical landmarks in Philadelphia, which tell the fascinating story of the American colonies' quest for independence from....

er....

okay...

Well, maybe we can give the landmarks a miss. Philly cheesesteaks and bowling for everyone!

Anyway, due to Blogger's nifty ability to pre-schedule posts, Of Cabbages and Kings will continue to post Friday and Monday all by its little ol' self. And me, I will be popping in and out-- courtesy of my not-40-pound laptop-- to catch up with everybody as much as battery power and internet access allows.

If you don't hear from me next week, I overshot Philly and am currently churning butter in Lancaster at the home of a nice Amish family who took me in. Shoo-fly pie, anyone?

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How To Take a Vacation Without Really Actually

No time to take vacation this year? Me neither. But does it have to get us down? NO!

And that’s because I have pulled together some ideal (absolutely absurd)...

And sure-fire (wholly untested)...

...Alternate Vacation ideas that will have you feeling like you went to a five-star resort (okay, Motel 3 ½ by the Interstate)...

For three glorious, pampering weeks (no AC, but the bullet holes in the walls help get a bit of a cross-breeze)...

Disclaimer: The author of this blog is not responsible for the results you may or may not have in actually implementing anything discussed in this list, or in how your neighbors treat you after said ideas are employed. This blog also is not responsible for any bail costs or public citations incurred related to these helpful tips. Thank you.


Welcome to your Alter-Cation!:

• Turn your house or apartment into a mini-putt-putt course, just like they have at the shore! Finally put that dusty exercise equipment to use as challenging holes of mini-golf. Transform it from treadmill to windmill, and savor the challenge of rolling that ball down a moving walkway at up to 50 mph! Need a sandtrap? Why, you might already have one in the house: your furry friend Mr. Meow won’t mind-- much. But beware of the water traps! You may just need to call Roto-rooter if you actually DO get a hole in one. Because once that ball gets wedged in, well, your average plunger just isn’t gonna do it. Your personal mini-golf course will make every day after a long day of work feel just a little bit more like a holiday.
  

• Borrow photos from other people’s vacation trips and Photoshop yourself into them. Then make a Powerpoint presentation and run a new location each evening. Plant "souvenirs" around the room (purchased earlier at Pier One) to haggle for based on that night's theme. Make sure you charge yourself at least 500% more than you paid for the item. And don't forget to send yourself postcards to let you know how much you're enjoying yourself!
  

• Host your own Mardi Gras parade. This requires some planning, but is very much worth the effort. Make papier mache figures of jesters, kings, queens and crocodiles and position them along your driveway, linked together on child’s wagons. You could also use pre-made pinatas, or your kids' larger stuffed animals. Get all of your family friends to stand along side the driveway and beg for beads. (Not Grandma, though-- just give her the beads. No one wants to see that.) Get the neighbors involved, too. Show them how fun Mardi Gras can be. The lady down the street who gardens in that spandex catsuit-- she'll be all for it. Get the local kids involved to sell Kool-Aid Hurricanes from their lemonade stand.
  

• Go to Not-Hawaii. Put your kids' earth science knowledge to good use by resurrecting that volcano experiment in the garage. Eat nothing but Spam sandwiches and pineapple rings for a week. Play Don Ho's "Tiny Bubbles" on a loop, for background atmosphere.

• Create your own fishing lodge! Drag a simple kiddie pool into your livingroom and fill it with cold water... Add several boxes of frozen fish sticks, looped with rope or ribbons... And cast away, my friends! Once you get that big catch, pop the fish sticks in the oven according to directions on the package and serve. The fish you catch yourself always taste so much better, doesn't it?
  

• Transform your abode into the Vegas strip. Card games abound. Or, if you aren't savvy on games like poker and blackjack, use what you have on hand for new, creative Vegas gaming stations. Think Old Maid where the Maids are Wild. Sudden Death Monopoly. Buckaroo racing. Hungry Hungry Hippo or Connect 4 Slots. You're limited only by your imagination. And what about the shows, and fine dining? Encourage family and friends to put on comedy skits or showcase their dancing and karaoke skills. Use those refrigerator leftovers for scrumptious all-you-can-eat buffets! What, that taco meat's been around for three weeks already? No problem-- a little food poisoning is all a part of the Vegas adventure.
  

See? It's that easy to get away without ever leaving your home. I hope these tips will find you feeling more relaxed in no time!

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Shutterbug Pop and the Runaway Train

I've been thinking of getting a video camera.

Of course, knowing me, I will likely end up spending less time using it to capture meaningful holiday moments and unique historical attractions-- and more time figuring out how to do stop-animation film of, say, Marshmallow Peeps staging an Easter-time jailbreak or something.

But to each his own.

The thought of the video camera, however, brought back memories of the last real family trip my parents and I took together-- a trip to Disney, in my 17th summer...

And how the Frontierland roller coaster made a, er, lasting impression on my Pop.

I believe I mentioned last week that during the 80s, my father had a very high-tech video camera. Which meant it was roughly the size of a Victorian steamer trunk for a six-month voyage. And this being my last trip with the folks before permanently flying the nest, the Pop was determined to document ALL the memories using this fine example of technology.

So, as we passed through Frontierland, and waited in line for the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad ride, my father decided that it would be pretty cool to film being on the ride.

Now, I don't know if you're familiar with this ride or not, but it's styled like a runaway train, rolling through jagged Old West mountains and dry desert terrain. And is it fast! Many a set of Mickey Mouse ears-- and a zippity-do-da-dinner-- has been a casualty of this ride.

Having explored this ride previously on a band trip, I was well aware of this fact. But see here's the thing:

My dad is a very intelligent man, but he is not what you'd call "A Listener." I've learned over the years that I have about a five-word limit on my part of any conversation before he's already delving into more important things.

It's sorta like using Twitter. I know I'd better get what I have to say out in the allotted characters or it's all a no-go.

(Now I think about it, I probably became a writer so I could complete full sentences.)

Anyway, so when the Pop was explaining his plan for the Best Family Video Ever, I was getting out phrases like...

"But Pop, this is fast and--"

"Really fast, Pop! I don't think--"

"The curves, you see, are quite--"

"It winds, Pop, centripetal force, and--"


No dice. The five-word limit was still in place.

So as we strapped ourselves into the car-- Dad in the center with the electronic steamer trunk hoisted onto his shoulder-- well, I admit, I felt a certain smug anticipation. I mean, I know why I didn't stop him, but why no one else gave it a shot, I really can't say.

Or why he didn't pay attention to the signs saying "Secure Your Belongings, This is a Super-fast Ride and YOU, Sir, Still Seem to be Holding Very Expensive Recording Equipment."

Some footage apparently is worth the risk.

So the ride began at a nice enough pace. We chugged up the hill, the Pop smiling benevolently at Mom and me with the glow of a cameraman destined for home movie greatness.

And then we got to the top and Pop's whole perspective on the matter shifted.

So did the video camera.

As we roared around the turn-- the sounds of Jethro Tull's Locomotive Breath seemed to come to my ears-- and the camera had decided it would prefer to bow to the forces of physics over the force of one very determined tourist from New Jersey.

It took a feat of astounding strength for my father to even retain his grip on the machine-- so fast were we clattering over the rails, around horseshoe bends, and s-curves, with animatronic buzzards fluttering in wait.

The Pop managed through sheer will alone to force the camera into a spot of relative stability back down into the car, onto his leg. The ride, two thrilling minutes for some-- two terrifying minutes of destruction and potential lawsuits for another-- slowed at the station, the engine letting out a steamy sigh of relief.

My father did, too. We exited and Pop rose, only to notice his upper thigh had taken on a brand new feature...

A Victorian steamer trunk-sized, camera-shaped bruise.

I used my five word allotment:

"Told you it was fast."

Pop didn't find it nearly as funny as I did.

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