"Blue skies... nothing but blue skies makes my brown eyes blue!"
So it goes somewhat uninterrupted, almost consecutive like Pete Rose chasing Joe DiMaggio. Except Dom and the other forgotten Marx brother thins the water weaker than hemoglobin. Abroad six weeks is after all more than the doctor ordered even if the boy fell sick enough to require Benadryl. Funny how an ear infection sedated the resultant nausea of turbulent air. But given the high winds off the Pacific maxing out at hurricane speeds, the slow descent lasting over an hour longer than was broadcast proved that luck be a lady tonight and every night.
So sticking with the fellows you came in with to the tropical peninsula some call a vacation paradise south of the border just before the yuletide cheer and what happens is pure pandemonium. Norman Rockwell no habla espanol where turkey and gimlets still remain the colonial tradition. Talk about Providence but divine intervention of the decidedly human kind interceded as an exchange rate twenty dollar cab ride to fetch provisions. Stockpiling for the next Armageddon because of unpreparedness does cost an arm and a steak bone or two. The desert can be very dry indeed because home away from home requires survivor ingenuity rather than know-how. But one glance at the vista with a temperate temperature warming your eyes first then skin next melted any residual thaw. Eighty degrees Fahrenheit tends to do exactly that. Archaeologically speaking though, the new eighth wonder of eating the local delicacy of what tasted like chicken pizza only salivated the glands for more all-you-can-eat buffet. Such sustenance was essential to combat the constant arm fatigue from the comedic musical chairs routine dislocating the ultra light weight stroller. If anything the experience functioned as a test run for the larger and longer travail because the smaller increments only whetted suspicions of whether distance or duration would claim ultimate victory.