I can't win in Vegas on many levels it seems

Basically I've been avoiding Legionnaires Disease my entire life.

I know that sounds like a rather random pursuit--and it is--but let me assure you it's entirely true. I blame on my mother, because I have never known anyone with this affliction, am not personally familiar with any of the affects, nor really know exactly what it is, but I do have an unreasonable fear of theme park misters and water parks. And I swore early on that if I ever became First Lady, the eradication of this disease would be my personal Betty Ford Clinic.

After a lifetime of holding my breath past Splash Mountain and resisting the urge to hurling those stupid spray bottle fans that always seem to mist me in line for a churro by sweating strangers, I have now been exposed to my worst nightmare of dying a slow and painful death in a VFW lodge, and I was no where near a log flume.

Yep, we were in the freaking Aria Hotel in Vegas on the dates in question.

The only possible upside I can find in this situation is that so far Sean nor I haven't experienced any symptoms yet and when I do finally become First Lady my charitable foundation won't seem nearly as hollow now.

Super Road Trip

Every summer I like to plan a family road trip. Every fall I realize that my husband and I have totally different thoughts on what exactly that means.


Me: When I said I wanted to go on a road trip to an exotic locale, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.

Husband: What could be more exotic than Metropolis? It’s the home of Superman!

Me: Somehow I think the comic book was referring to some other major fictitious city, not Metropolis, Illinois.

Husband: I know. We lucked out that it existed just a few hours drive from home.

Me: (Staring up at giant plastic Superman statue in the town square.) Not sure if “lucky” is the word I’d use....

Husband: Go stand there in front of it and I’ll take your picture.

Me: As much as I’d love using that image as my Facebook profile picture, how about we go into the museum instead?

Husband: Way ahead of you there, honey. I’ve got V.I.P. tickets right here!

Me: (Inspecting dilapidated building we are about to enter.) Did you say, V.I.P. or OMG?

Husband: (Ignoring me, completely engrossed in the gross.) What was that, dear?

Me: Oh nothing. Say, was that substance Superman was susceptible to?

Husband: Kryptonite?

Me: (Noticing the falling ceiling tiles.) How did he do with asbestos?

Husband: (Again, ignoring me and now stumbling into the 1970’s Superman popular merchandise exhibit.) I had that same lunch box when I was in the third grade!

Me: Hmm, very authentic. I don’t think it’s been dusted since then. (Surveying the dingy surroundings.) You know, I saw Superman I, 2 and 3, and not once did Krypton look like some creepy guy’s basement.

Husband: I know, isn’t it great that all of this precious memorabilia could be preserved like this and not thrown away by a wife who has watched too many hours of HGTV...

Me: (My turn to ignore. I am captivated by the Charlie McCarthy ventriloquist’s puppet on a unicycle dressed in Underoos hat seems to follow me with its wooden eyes around the room.)

In unison: I wonder if anything (I hope nothing) in here is for sale....

Me: If you take one more step toward that case of Justice League replica signet rings, you’ll be sleeping in your own Fortress of Solitude.

Husband: Why don’t you go outside and wait by that empty phone booth? You never know when you might run into Clark Kent.

A few more bad super hero puns, a bag of nostalgic novelties and five ice cream ringed smiles later, he and the kids emerge giggling and triumphant.

It is then I realize that he may not be more powerful than a locomotive or leap buildings in a single bound, but when it comes to fun family road trips, he is Mr. Fantastic.