A bunch of geeks went to DC to plot the takeover of some market somewhere in some future. Then they went to Reading, PA to pick up a baby kangaroo. The plane (fore and aft) is piloted by Jill who was too busy to be photographed and Dave who was not.

The sun always shines at 41,000 feet and you see neat things, like the shadow of a contrail on clouds and a graveyard for planes. The nice thing about our flight was there were no annoying people frisking us, demanding our shoes, or stealing our pens. But I'm still compelled to say, "sir, for your safety and the safety of others I'm going to have to ask you to wipe that look off your face."

The presence of a baby kangaroo elicited a maternal instinct in everyone-- like Tom, and Lou, and Vicki, and me, and Dave, and Jan, and even Gerard(!!!). Joel? What happened to you? There are no photos of you holding the roo.

After stopping in Memphis, Tennessee (where they played B.B. King on the tarmac) our roo was named "Elvis". You're probably thinking that Elvis was a bat or rat-like creature with large ears. But no, really, he is a kangaroo. And like all babies he was hungry for breakfast and lunch . If you can view QuickTime videos check this out.

Elvis was a big hit at every city we stopped in (except Witchita Falls, Texas which no one should ever go to again). Now he's home in Salinas, California at Wild Things .