TOYS AND GAMES: Party Like a Rock Star
A 72-year-old gentleman sporting a goatee and wearing a fedora sat next to me at a Mexican Bar inside the Charlotte airport.
After he ordered a margarita, with a shot of Petrone on the side, I learned he lived in Palm Springs, California and owned an Olive Garden in Clermont, Florida. Why is this of note? Well, seems he was en route to Albany, New York to be reunited with Steppenwolf, the 1960s rock band for whom he once played drums. He said they planned on playing and having a good time. Given that information, I wanted to ask, but did not: “So you’re going to party… like a rock star?”
Observing the rubbery legs that carried him from the bar, I had my doubts about how he would fare over the weekend. From “Born to be Wild” to “Born to be Mild” in just over four decades.
At that same Charlotte airport bar, I looked up at the TV to see an all-time sports low on Fox: Iran vs. Tahiti in a beach soccer event. I can honestly say that was my introduction to beach soccer. I asked the bartender if she could change the channel, perhaps to an HGTV episode of paint drying.
While walking in Toronto, I saw an Hawaii license plate. As far as license-plate watching goes, it doesn’t get much better. Kind of like being a bird watcher and spotting a Black-faced Spoonbill.
A recent Chick-fil-a recent promotion caught my attention. Seems if you dressed like a cow on a given day they would give you a free meal. That prompted thoughts of whether such an endeavor would be financially responsible. So I did the calculations, weighing the projected cost of a cow costume against future promotions, and the final analysis came down to one question: Do you enjoy dressing like a cow?
In case anybody is interested, I’ve got a parking reservation at Trader Joe’s on South Dale Mabry. I’m kidding, okay. I just don’t get waiting in line to shop at a grocery story.