I am officially becoming a veteran of Detroit Metro Airport. Specifically, the departure gate at the Northwest terminal. I am slowly regaining the ability to parallel park in tight spaces. You don't want to drive around in circles for a half hour, each time passing a sign that says Eureka Rd. Keep Left. Alright already! I discovered the fucking thing 14 signs ago! No need to keep telling me! So, you learn to anticipate which vehicle the speedy traveller emerging from the door is heading to. Then you line up beside him, leaving just enough room to let him get out. Kill or be killed. And all the time drivers are wreaking havoc like a squadron of planes commandeered by Bart Simpson clones, there are two dudes in orange jackets looking on at the scene with bemusement. Sometimes they're huddling together and I think they are placing side bets on which schmo causes an accident first.

I picked up my Aunt Cindy today. She had just returned from a cruise around the Caribbean. She sported a deep brown tan and complained that the temperature in Orlando was only 70 degrees. She complained that Orlando was only seventy degrees. Yes, I said that. Twice. On behalf of all of Michigan, thanks for that. Hell, it was 40 degrees here today and I felt like putting on my bathing suit and running under the sprinkler.

She apparently had a great time. She told me about her adventures snorkeling, eating, dancing, eating, rafting,eating, drinking, and then eating again. I almost got out of my car, heading straight away for the Virgin Islands. When I achieve something of a sufficient salary to support wanderlust, the Caribbean will likely be my first destination. I work for Marriott, I have a friend who works for United (hello buddy passes), so I will be conquering the Western Hemisphere and beyond one month at a time. I WANT IT.

Anyways, when we arrived home, my aunt stared pulling things out of her 49.999 pound suitcase. In fact, when the baggage weigher guy checked her limit as she was checking in, he informed her that she was at 49 pounds, one under the limit! Enough room for a pair of jeans and maybe a coaster from the airport bar. Awesome. Then it wouldn't surprise me if, upon unpacking her suitcase, its contents would cover the ENTIRE living room floor. Among those contents, was my souvenir...... a pair of space shuttle sized pina colada glasses. Now, I can't for the life of me think why ANYONE would think to give me alcoholic beverage containers! Really! Hmmmmmm............. :)