Thursday, April 28, 1994
by Laura Borawski
CotUgia* Staff
Summer is almost here,
bringing to mind all of the great
times I've had in the past during
those months of sun and fun (and
work mid hangovers), and leading
me to wonder what will happen
this particular summer.
The summer also reminds me
>f various vacations I've taken.
fhe memories are priceless, and
'm sure you all have your own
rom different things you've done
md places you've gone.
You know what I especially
miss? I miss the vacations I used
to take with my family every
once in a while when the time
came to just get away from it all.
I was fortunate enough to be
ride to travel to various places
thus far in my life, and 111
always remember the great times,
as well as the not so great times
spent with my family^"
One special vacmion remains
moat prevalent fa my mind. One
summer 1 took a trip with my
mom Md two rimers to sonny
Criffaraia. We left my dad and
hwuter i ho«n«i, airi headed west
on an Amtrak train. And, oh.
Dave’s trip to
by Dave Barry
SymlicaUdCcbmmtt
Recently I went to England on
a selfless humanitarian mission
to sell books. It was a very
relaxing trip until about 35
minutes after the plane landed at
Heathrow Airport, which is when
a British person cheerfully
informed my wife and me that
terrorists had been shooting
mortar bombs onto the runway.
Really. They have political
organizations over there that,
having apparently received
public-relations advice from
Charles Manson, believe that the
way to garner public support is
to bomb and mortar the public.
“Hey!” the public is apparently
supposed to respond. “Homicidal
loons are trying to kill me! lam
feeling supportive toward them!”
Shortly after we arrived, there
were two mote mortar attacks on
Heathrow. None of the bombs
detonated, but I was starting to
wonder about the quality of the
airport security. I envisioned
squadrons of Scotland Yard
detectives wearing Sherlock
Holmes hats, crawling on hands
and knees, scrutinizing every
Made of glass through powerful
magnifying glasses, not noticing
trades rambling past them with
large signs that said,
“CAUTION! MORTAR
BOMBS!”
Don’t get me wrong. I live in
Summer memories
what a long, long trip it was.
It all began in the middle of the
summer before my freshman year
of high school. My mom decided
to take the girls to California to
visit our aunt and uncle near the
San Bernardino area. Mom
thought that then was the best
time to go, since my dad and
brother were busy at work and we
were {netty much free for the
summer. (It sure was nice to
know that summer time meant
"vacation time" instead of more
school and work...)
Anyway, mom believed it
would be more fun and
adventuresome to hop on a train
instead of a plane, and Journey to
Aunt Caroline’s and Uncle Ed's.
We packed our bags, got up at
5:00 a.m., and were on the train
by 6:15 at the old train station. I
was hesitant to go; 1 had no idea
What to expect, sod ft would take
three days to get there.
(AAAAGH!)
The first part of the Journey
took about eight hours, if I
remember correctly, and our
primary destination was Chicago,
Illinois. Actually, I think it took
a bit longer, as some adolescent
misplaced his pet trrantula. It
South Florida, and we have our
problems, too. The very week I
was in England, a German
tourist, checking out of a South
Florida hotel, complained about
an odor in his room, which
turned out to be emanating from •
-1 am not making this up -- a
corpse under the bed.
(Apparently he failed to put out
the little doorknob sign that says
“MAID: PLEASE REMOVE
CORPSE.”) But we South
Floridians pride ourselves on our
mortar-free runways, which
enable us to guarantee that our
tourists will be safe and secure.
Unless of course they are foolish
enough to actually get off the
plane.
Anyway, the mortars were
scary, but we had a MUCH
scarier experience in England:
Somehow - probably because of
another massive screw up at the
CIA - we got invited to dine at
the U.S. ambassador’s residence.
We were the only people on the
guest list whose tides were “Mr.
and Mrs.” Everybody rise was
something like “The Lord Earl of
Gwebbing and Her
Worshipfulbood the Viscountess
Lady Huffington Prawn-
Armature.” So when we arrived
at the ambassador’s residence,
which is approximately the size
of Wales, but with more
bathrooms, we were feeling
socially intimidated.
Fortunately the ambassador and
(mb®
was creeping around somewhere
on the train, and we had to wait
until it was found. Supposedly
it was retrieved after a good half
hour and we continued on.
When we reached the Windy
City, we had to board another
train. Few the second part of the
trip, our car was more spacious
were good, the food was OX,
the conductors were nice, and die
scenery was absolutely fantastic.
We crossed rivers thinking we
would skip the lack and fail in,
we passed through tunnels and
mountains, crossed desert land,
his wife were extremely nice,
which was reassuring, as was the
fact that they had three dogs (one
main, two backups) with no
sense of etiquette whatsoever (I
know! Let’s sniff the
viscountess!”). Nevertheless,
when it came time to eat dinner, I
developed severe Table Manners
were about 27 forks at my place
setting alone. Plus, it turns out
that at these formal dinners they
have rules about whom you talk
to: Before the main course,
you’re supposed to talk
exclusively to the lady on your
left as though she is the most
fascinating person on the planet,
but when foe mam course arrives
you’re supposed to drop her like
used chewing gum and talk to the
lady on your right. It’s amazing
to watch the changeover. All
and even rode under a rainbow.
One of the train cars was
designed especially for
sightseeing, so we had a great
view through windows around
and drove our seats. We saw the
border between Utah and
Colorado as it was marked with
white paint on rocks next to the
train tracks. We also saw many
beautiful rocks sculptured by
nature's articulate hand. One was
a spitting image of Donald
Dock's profile! We passed
Robert Redfocd's ranch but I can't
recall which state it is in.
The sight that really caught me
off guard though was this one (if
you have never seen the movie
"The Goonies," then this will
mean nothing to you): One day
on the train my sisters and I were
walking through different train
cars and I couldnt help but notice
this chubby boy looking at me
from one of the seats. I nearly
fainted. I didn’t tell my siblings
right away; in fact, I waited until
we sat down in our seats about
there care away.
I ifipft*** my elder sister on the
yhnqhw «iwi blurted, "Guess
who’s on the train?! Guess who’s
on the train?!" She at me
annoyed and said, "Who, Lor,
England
heads of the room swivel
simultaneously, like synch
ronized motorized elves in a
Christmas display.
Of course I didn’t know this,
so midway through the dinner I
suddenly found myself having an
animated conversation with the
back of the head of the lady on
my left, who, despite having
been, only moments earlier, my
closest personal friend, no longer
seemed to realize that I existed.
(To this day, she never calls, and
she never writes.)
Speaking of exciting social
adventures: Several nights later,
we were at a party, and the host
came up and said, “I’d like you to
meet Salman Rushdie.” Really.
Apparently Salman has turned
into a major party animal. So
there I was, chatring with him,
trying to appear cool, but in fact
wondering if I would have been
safer just staying at the airport.
“So, Salman!” I wanted to say.
“Perhaps we would be more
comfortable if we were lying
face-down on the floor away from
the windows!”
But other than these few
anxious moments, we had a
wonderful time in England, They
were having some highly
entertaining government scandals.
We Americans tend to have
obscure boring complicated
financial Whitewater-type
scandals that nobody imtewimHf
whereas the British have scandals
who?" I jumped from my sea
and yelled, "Chunk!" She wa
obviously embarrassed because o
my outburst and sunk in her seat
My other sister laughed and sai<
"Yes, Laura: You're weird."
refused to give up and dragge
them to the car in which I sa
him. They couldn't believe wh
they saw/ I wasn't kidding.
wanted him to do the truffle
shuffle, but had to settle for a
photo and an autograph instead....
The rest of the trip was just as
eventful and crazy as any other
family vacation. We went to
Disneyland, ran into a few too
many spiders (including a Black
Widow that foamed Bailey), and
saw many beautiful sunsets. 1
was happy to be home though;
home is where the heart is.
I hope each of you has at
opportunity to experience somi
form of travel. Don't be afrafc
to try something new or to g<
somewhere you've never beet
before- the world is full of grea
places! Even if it's your ow
backyard.
involving straightforward, clear
cut issues of obvious
significance, such as high
government officials paying for
sex with fish.
Speaking of food: The British
are definitely getting better at
cooking, red they have discovered
the ice cube. Fortunately,
however, some things have not
changed: they still have the
Royal Dysfunctional Family, and
it is still a constant source of
entertainment (The day we got
there. Prince Charles made the
newspapers by asking, on a tour
erf a cosmetics plant if anybody
wanted to -1 am not making this
up lick mango butter off his
body.)
Also the British still speak in
British accents, so that no matter
what they say, it sounds really
intelligent to Americans; and
they still say things like
“bloody” and “smashing.” Plus
they keep inventing wonderful
new expressions. For example, I
saw a newspaper front page that
had a photograph of a man, with
the headline: “MR.
CHUCKLETROUSERS.” I
asked a number of British people
about this expression; they had
no idea what it meant but they all
agreed that they would definitely
try to use it a lot So should we,
I think. We should maintain
close ties with our friends across
the Atlantic. But we should also
remain out of mortar range.
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