Para Not So Normal

Shoveling snow, dodging sand trucks and scraping ice from the car window. Yes, it’s that time again. Time to take a mini vacation somewhere down south, way down south, where the palm trees dance to the soft tropical breeze. Where the only ice and salt you’ll come in contact with is found in your margarita drink.

So, how just far south is that? Well, you’ll know you’ve gone far enough even before the plane lands. Just pay attention to the scenery going on outside the plane’s window. If you keep your eyes open, sooner or later you’ll see some poor parasailing tourist strapped to a chute looking in on you. That’s when you’ll know you’ve arrived!

Anyone who visits the tropics for the first time will somehow get roped into taking the parasailing tour. Besides, when you get back to shoveling snow again your friends will ask you if you did. And if you did you better have the proof. Proof that includes a photo that’s as convincing as your dental records because once you’ve parasailed you’ll never want to do it again.

When you first display your pale body on the tropical beach don’t bother searching for the parasailing runway. You won’t have to. The tropical natives send out a paraposse who search for you. Once they spot your pasty looking butt lying on a made in the U.S.A. beach blanket they know they have their prey. You’ll recognize these natives by their deep dark tans and skimpy made in Mexico swimsuits. And if that isn’t enough of a paraposse giveaway then wait till they speak to you. You see, their English vocabulary is limited. They only know a few English words like... “cash only” and “no refunds.”

They’re excellent pointers too. If you ask them where the nearest restroom is they point to the sky. If you ask them where your hotel is they also point to the sky. If you look up to what they keep pointing to you’ll see a pasty looking paratourist floating down from the clouds. And if they have it their way that’s where you’re going to be in about a minute or two. You’re not going to the bathroom folks, although once you’re up there you’ll wish you had.

The paraposse don’t care if you’ve never parasailed. For your comfort, they’ll take you through a quick training program that’s short for a reason... it leaves you little time to change your mind. Besides they don’t want you panicking when you realize that you’re up in the clouds all alone. You see, once you’re in the sky you’re on your own pal. They’re not going up there to help you out. Why should they, you’ve already paid.

Their training program usually goes something like this. “Two whistle, pull down cord on left.” then they’ll blow their whistle twice. “One whistle, pull down cord on right.” Then they’ll blow their whistle once.  Before you can say, “Could you please repeat that?” you’ll be strapped into a harness like a horse. There’s no turning back because they don’t understand words like, “Keep the money. I don’t want to go!” Besides they need someone to point to when they’re out searching for new prey. Now, not only have they got your money, you’ve become the new parapointe.

Unfortunately, the whole experience is over before you have time to compose yourself and snap that one awesome shot you need for the proof back home. But don’t be too alarmed. The paraposses know that and when you land on your pasty looking butt the paraposse’s professional photographer will have an 8”x10” photo already matted and framed for, of course, a small fee. Take it, it’s worth every penny because you’ll immediately become a paraphobic the second you land.

So if you don’t want to end up in paratherapy, I would highly recommend that you first visit your nearest tanning booth and burn your butt off before you fly.

Have a safe landing.      

A Little Reverse Thinking

Sign posted at the laundromat. “Free wash with every dry.”

Wait a minute... isn’t that backwards? After I’ve dried my clothes, why would I want to get them wet again? It seems that if I acted on this sign I’d be doing my laundry for the rest of my life. It must be a mistake... but it did get me thinking.

What if the world rotated on its axis the other way? What if clock hands went counter-clockwise? Or clockwise, as it would then be called? We’d be born old and die young. Wow, that’s an interesting thought. If that were true then we would enter this world in debt and die debt-free. That’s right, and as we grew younger so would our age, which means that all our wrinkles would slowly disappear. That would save us tons of money now spent on cosmetic surgery, anti-aging cream and hair replacement treatments.

And “miracles” would be happening every minute of every day. For instance, as we grew younger we’d be rising out of our wheelchairs. We’d be trading in our canes for Camaros, equipped with full surround sound stereo systems. Retirement would finally be something to look backwards to. Instead of receiving retirement watches we’d get mountain bikes! We could ride around all day long and still have enough energy left to watch late night TV. Our 401k’s would be spent on jeans, cheeseburgers, french fries and rock concerts.

If clocks went backwards then so would our cars. That means driving our cars backwards which would definitely lower our auto insurance payments because we’d probably drive a whole lot slower. And slower drivers have fewer accidents.

As we got younger, we’d slowly lose our material possessions too. That includes our homes, cars, riding mowers and all of our priceless valuables. By the time we finally pass away there’d be nothing for family members to inherit. No more family arguments over who gets what. We wouldn’t have to make out a will either because there would be nothing to will to anyone. That means no more lawyers filling up the yellow pages. Imagine... the yellow pages could never be used as a chair-lift again. Which reminds me... as we got younger, wouldn’t we get shorter too? That means we’d take up a lot less air space. The Airlines would let us fly for less, a lot less. Children fly for free don’t they?

We could rent videos and know right up front how a movie was going to end. That could save us hundreds of hours wasted on watching movies that have bad endings. And since our time here is limited, we ‘d want to be sure that we’re filling our final moments with movies that capture our imaginations. That eliminates about 90% of the movies we pay to rent now.

Gee, this reverse thinking is beginning to seem like something we could look forward to. But there must be a flip side to this and guess what... there is. You see, as we grew younger we’d have to spend our last few years living with our parents.

Let me refresh your memory on what that means.

It means back to curfews, eating your string beans, no talking, no fighting and no dirty socks on the floor.

It means consistently cleaning your room, no throwing stuff in the closet and making your bed every day.

It means no more privacy, no more TV and worst of all... having to share the bathroom with your sister. You’ll have no more control over the remote and have to spend the rest of your days sitting quietly all day long watching the Home Shopping channel.

It means doing your homework and doing detention for not doing your homework. Back to blackboards, chalk noises, bullies, milk money and trips to the principal’s office. There’s trash duty, lawn mowing duty, leaf raking duty and cleaning up dog duty.

I think it’s time to quickly turn the hands back to forward. You know, as the world really turns.

So with the earth rotating as it does what’s left to look forward to? Well... we can live out our final years tormenting our children instead of the other way around. We can control the remote and nap all day long while sitting comfortably in our Lazy-Boy chairs.

And remember those bullies? Well... we can sue them. And last, but best of all, we’d have the entire bathroom all to ourselves.

The more I think about it... as we grow older, clocks moving clockwise are worth looking forward to.

A Real Artificial Christmas

Just when you’ve finally gotten around to putting your Christmas items away, it’s time to take them all back out again. But it’s worth the trauma because it’s the most magical time of the year. And speaking of magic, it’s amazing how most of my friends disappear right around the holiday season. They don’t return my calls because they know I’m calling for help so I can have my Christmas tree up and decorated before the holiday arrives. That’s where the trauma part comes into play. You see, I don’t go to a tree farm to bring home a Christmas tree. My tree is up in the attic and all of my friends know that. It’s true, I have an artificial tree, but it looks real. What gives it away is its smell. It doesn’t have that pine fresh smell like the ones from the tree farm have. It’s got more like a musty smell from being stored up in the attic too long. But that smell isn’t anything that a large can of Glade won’t take care of.

This year I tracked down two of my friends and pleaded with them to help me out. First we armed ourselves with a ladder and flashlight then headed upstairs to boldly go where few have gone before. As we entered the bedroom my eyes looked up to the ceiling where the attic’s secret entrance is. My friends Jim and Nancy got the ladder ready and waved me over to begin my climb. When I got to the top rung my sweaty hand reached up to the plywood that covered the entrance and pushed it aside. The stale air seeped out of the opening and into my lungs. Before I could turn back I was given a push from below. This push was large enough to thrust me up through the entrance and into this undiscovered galaxy. I fumbled for my flashlight, wishing I had worn a spacesuit to protect myself from invisible dust mites and unidentified flying objects with wings. As my flashlight cut through the darkness I could see tiny particles of floating insulation pass by the light. They looked like asteroids from a science fiction movie so I knew enough to avoid them.

“Joe, did you find the tree?” Jim muttered from below.

“Yes, I’ve found the box marked, artificial Christmas tree.” Course I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it didn’t necessarily mean we would find an artificial Christmas tree in there. “Look out below, I’m sending it down through the hatch!”

Thump and crash went the artificial box as it hurled itself down to the bedroom. There was a gasp as Nancy screamed, “There’s nothing in here but a bunch of broken bulbs! Where’s the tree?”

Once again my flashlight panned across the galaxy to a fully-grown, artificial tree with all the tinsel still hanging on it. The memory of Christmas past returned. Last year I had placed the tree up here without taking it apart! Well no wonder the tree wasn’t in the box! No one was around then to help me so I had to put it away myself. I dragged the tree upstairs and positioned it right below the attic’s entrance. I then climbed up the tree and into the attic. Next, I grabbed the tree by its highest branch and gave it one big yank. Who said trees can’t fly? They can, and this one flew all the way to the outer limits of the attic where it now stands. I did it without anyone’s help and without my trusty flashlight. I’ve got the 2’ by 4’ scars to prove it.

“I found the Christmas tree but it’s still in full bloom.”

My friends instructed me to take it apart then send it down through the opening. There was no way I was going to take that thing apart up here. What happens if my flashlight goes dead? I’d be stuck up here celebrating Christmas with a musty artificial tree and no Glade. They had fresh air and heat where they were. Besides I was afraid I might end up with hundreds of artificial pine needles attached to my body parts. I quickly dragged it to the opening and before they could respond I yelled, “TIMBER!”

An awful lot of commotion followed. I waited a few minutes before I finally poked my head down through the opening to take a look around. Jim and Nancy had removed themselves and the ladder from the bedroom, leaving me hanging in the cosmos to think about what I had just done. I warned them that if they didn’t bring the ladder back I was going to hurl my body through space and down to the telephone to call the cops on them. They returned with the ladder but not before they had removed all the artificial pine needles stuck to their very real bodies.

Jim and Nancy gave me an early Christmas gift this year: a grow your own tree kit. It wasn’t even on my wish list. They think it’ll be the best gift I get for Christmas. And I do too.

Now, if I could only find the directions.