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 .