The Wallaby Incident

We were tooling around Ireland - checking out the sites and whatnot - when a funny thing happened.  At first, though, it was not funny AT ALL.

We were staying at a hotel outside Cork which is located 2 kms from a open range wildlife park where giraffes, zebras, and other animals wandered in very large fenced areas.  It was very cool.

The cheetahs were held separately, of course.  Although, to demonstrate its "wildness," a dead rabbit was hung on a fancy clothes line and zipped above the cheetah's head.  The cheetah gave chase, eventually getting its lunch.  Cool and sad.

The other animals [pelicans, wallabies, capibara, mara] were largely allowed to roam freely around the park.  The coolest were the wallabies who sat munching grass while the kids pet them.  Little did Alex know he was petting the Wallinator...who passively allowed Alex to pet its back before it ATTACKED leaving a scratch across his face and ear..

He comes barrelling toward me with this look mixing terror and disbelief.  I turned from the otter pen to look at what happened.  Seeing this crazy look on Alex's face, I began laughing which only got him to cry more.  We settled him down and even got him to laugh about it.  But next time you are at the petting zoo, keep an eye out for the Wallinator

Queueing

Sorry to get all British, but queueing is a fascination/addiction.  A queue is a line - such as at the supermarket check-out or a gas station fill-up.  Most people think it simple and straight forward principle:  When someone leaves, everyone moves up.  Simpleton!  This stuff is complex with college-level courses to boot.

Engineers use queueing to understand how many cars make it through a green light.  Please note:

• The first person in the line gunning it doesn't do anything
• Providing another driver in line the finger may reduce your ability to get through the light
• Swearing improves your mood (not technically part of queueing, but whatever)
• There is no formula to hit all green lights - hey, it's math, not magic!

Merging traffic is a queue system combining two lines.  Theoretically, optimal performance dictates the use of all lanes available and an even ratio when merging - like a zipper, if you will.  So, inching forward to prevent the jerk who jumped into the off-ramp from merging is referred to as sub-optimal.  Although yelling 'eat my exhaust, cretin' seems to help.

Driving on the highway is a queue with velocity introduced.  There are technical terms in the system.  Like that son-of-a-monkey's-brother who cut you off to go 45 mph so he can see an open road ahead isn't called a jack ass.  Officially, he is called a disruptor.  Avoid them at all costs.

This may all drive the better half CRAZY, but it really comes to a head with check-out lines.  This isn't something rushed into.  You have to assess how many lines are open, how many people are in the lines, and how much they have in their hands/carts.  Then, you have to understand the throughput ratio of the cashier - they aren't all created equally, you know.  Finally, you have to be able to adjust!  Price checks on Preparation H or significant couponage or the addition of an incremental line (with a cold cashier), all have to be assessed in determining if you need to switch lines boldly.  And be willing to throw some elbows around, if needed.  The fate of your checkout time is at stake here.

Because you have to ask yourself, are you optimal?  Well, are ya, punk?

Mike

So, Mike.  

He was my older brother.  Teaching me all the things to do when one is an older brother - rules bending, rules breaking, blame shifting, obfuscation, and dating.  With a modest dash of tweaking the parents to boot.

Mike died when he was 14, although in his short life he taught me a lifetime of lessons mostly by showing me what not to do.  Although, that didn't apply to dating.  He was quite accomplished and dated enough to see eye-to-eye on love with friends, friend's dads, and friend's grandfathers with equal parts brilliance and bullshit (and pull it off.)  

I was never one to have success with the ladies, so this might be a good opportunity to explore what I could have learned about dating from Mike.  OR to highlight why I was never as successful at dating.  Yeah, the second one:

• When seeking his desire Mike brought bravado, I brought confusion
  
• Mike was a smooth talker, I was a mumbler
  
• His immaculate dress was offset by my rumpled professor look
  
• Mike spent hours ensuring he got the right look...I had a healthy fear of combs
  
• His muscled chest and arms where no match for my concave chest
  
• He had Romanesque locks and stature to contrast with my stately Steve Urkel build
  

Thus, he had a port in all storms, a ship in all ports and more nautical themed hijinx I can't mention here where my dinghy seldom set sail.  In the end, I managed alright - for a rumpled professor mumbler with a concave chest.  Or maybe it was pity...