Nuclear Family Warhead

We took a day trip to the Natural Science Center over the weekend.  The Nukekids loved it.  We’ve been there before, but each time we go back they have new things to see.  I got to show off my big brain in the “puzzle room” when Nukeboy1 asked me how to balance 14 nails on top of one nail.  OK, so I cheated, a little.  I knew the concept, it was the execution that I was struggling with.  A quick peek in the solution manual helped me out.  OK, I TOTALLY cheated, but Nukeboy1 didn’t know until I told him; he thought I’d done it all on my own.  I DID, however; get the ring off of the 2 horseshoes.  No lie.  It took me a little while to get it back on, but I did it. 

Nukeboy2 had me time his excellence at going through the maze, and even though he navigated it flawlessly on his test run, when he ran for time he came in at just under 2 minutes.  He wasn’t pleased.  Their favorite part of the Science Center is going to see Axl, the 4 year old male Tiger.  Axl was pacing the fence line while his smarter sister Kisa was lounging in the shade atop the rocks under the canopy.  The attendant at the exhibit showed us a metal water bucket that Axl had gotten ahold of a few days before.  The result was similar to what would happen if you got a 2 oz Dixie cup and bit down on it.  She said they get 20lbs of horse meat a night.  I’m thinkin’ I’m glad I’m not a horse.  If I was a horse, that would be all the inspiration I would need to win the race.  Or at least place or show. 

The heat wasn’t so bad, but the humidity was way up there.  As a result, none of the animals were overly active; except for Axl, who was clearly looking for a break in the fence so that he could go dive into the crocodile’s pool.  Can’t say that I blame them.  The monkeys were asleep.  The lemurs were asleep.  The maned wolves were just bored and hot, so they stayed in the shade.  Even the Wallaby was laying in the shade.  The brutal Outback had nothing on us weather wise.  The Meerkats were having a blast.  They ranged from full grown to what looked to be 20 minutes old.  One was so small I thought it was a dirt clod until it moved.  They were wrestling up a storm.  The little ones were no match for the adults, but they would dive in anyway.  We decided to go back inside where it was much cooler. 

They had a game show parody called “Meal or No Meal” and Nukeboy1 and Nukeboy2 got called on as contestants.  Nukegirl was a bit put out, but she got to pet the Hedgehog afterwards with her brothers, so it all worked out.  The dinosaur exhibit was a hit, as was the snake room.  Nukegirl got to hold “Forrest Grump”, a Ball Python who was none to happy to be taken out of his aquarium again.  In hindsight, I don’t believe letting my 4 year old hold a snake with the name “Grump” was a wise decision.  She was twice as big as him though, and I’d put ten bucks on Nukegirl in that match up any day.  You should see her take on her brothers when they get too close to her Rice Krispies.

I promised them a trip back next month.  Apparently there is a new arrival coming.  A Giant Anteater.  I’ll have to get them caught up on the Pink Panther cartoons on Boomerang so that when it starts to speak they’ll be able to understand the Jackie Mason accent. 

This is getting a little ridiculous.  You’ve read stories here before about the animals in the neighborhood and their proficiency for doing things that might prompt a visit from Mulder and Scully.  Here’s another one.  The neighborhood all gathered at  Mr. and Mrs. AP’s house yesterday for a 4th of July cookout.  Burgers, hot dogs, baked beans, potato salad (Amish potato salad, no less!), watermelon; the works.  The only thing lacking was entertainment.  Well, normal kid antics might count, but no “show stopper” entertainment.  None; that is, until Luther: the squirrel who thought he could fly showed up.  You’ve already seen the picture, so you know how it all ends; what you don’t know are the particulars.  Neither do we, but we came up with a few possibilities:

Scenario 1:

 After a heavy night of drinking, Luther wakes up at the crack of 4pm to the human ruckus erupting below.  As he steps out of bed to give them what-for, he slips on one of his kids’ toys, raps his head on the bed post and tumbles to the ground, never regaining consciousness.

Scenario 2:

Aging squirrel elder Luther is challenged to a game of “Tightrope” by one of the younger males.  Luther loses his footing (pawing?) on a tricky stretch of branch, falling to his death.  On the way down, Luther curses himself for allowing the challenger to pick the course.

Scenario 3

Being a southern squirrel, and since it was a National Holiday, Luther spent the day with his buddies downing case after case of Busch beer and riding his Quad ATV through the trees.  During “Leap the Abyss”, Luther is heard saying; “Hey ya’ll, watch this!”  Those are the last words ever spoken by Luther.

Scenario 4

While eyeing the human extravaganza below, Luther spies Annie, the humans’ rat terrier who very nearly killed Luther weeks before.  Luther survived, but his friend Cujo did not.  Luther notices that Annie is wearing a Jacksonville Jaguar’s infant t-shirt.  Being a Carolina Panther fan himself; and knowing that the Jaguars had one of the worst draft classes in history, Luther laughs himself into a frenzy, loses his balance and plummets to his death. 

Scenario 5

Heartbroken that he was abandoned as a child, lost his publishing fortune, his race for Governor, his wife and his mistress; “Citizen Luther” drops his snow-globe, whispers “Rosebud”, dies, and falls out of the tree.

I suppose we’ll never know what caused Luther to lose his battle with gravity.  We do know that Luther is the reason NukeMom lost her mouthful of soda.  Sprayed it right across the table, she did.  Witnessed the whole thing.  She said she heard some rustling leaves and then saw something grey and squirrel-like impact the ground.  I swear; the Disney people better get her quick with their cameras before all the animals go back to being normal.

*Luther was treated humanely and given a proper burial.  In honor of Independence Day, Luther was given a 21 Rubber Band Salute.  In lieu of flowers, please make a contribution to “Squirrels Plummeting Lazily Aground Today” (SPLAT)*

I just found out yesterday that a friend who used to live next door to me committed suicide by cop.  After hearing about what had been going on in his life, I can almost see why he would make such a desperate decision.  He had an outstanding warrant for theft, and he knew it; so when the police officer saw him crossing the parking lot and told him to stop, he must have known that the time was now.  You see, he had been waiting for this opportunity.  It is why he had purchased a toy gun.  It is why he painted over the orange tip that identifies it as a toy gun.  It is why he painted it gun-stock silver; so that it would look every bit as threatening as he would need it to in order to get the policeman to end his misery.  Once, and for all.

Jim (not his real name) lived next door to me in El Paso for 2 years in the early 90’s.  He lived with two other roommates; I had one.  They had a swimming pool.  We had 3 acres of land and a landlord who enjoyed mowing our lawn.  No kidding.  The rent for my roommate and I was $425 a month.  Not each; total.  Our houses were conveniently located 2 blocks from our favorite watering hole; Aceitunas Beer Garden.  I was (along with my friend Paul) the first paying customer in that bar the day they opened.  I was also the first customer ever asked to leave that bar.  Same night; but that’s another post.  When ‘Tunas would close, the party would invariably move to our place, or Jim’s place.  We’d all play cards, try and blow my speakers to Pearl Jam, play front yard soccer barefoot and break every toe on both feet at the same time (yep, me again) and generally have a great time.  15 years ago today, July 4th, 1993 our 2 houses hosted a 4th of July party to end all 4th of July parties.  It was epic; The Who could have written a song about it.  It was that good.  As time went on, we each moved on and moved away from our little party planet.  Everyone, that is, except for Jim.  He could never let go of the euphoria that alcohol gave him.   

I think everyone knows, or has known, someone who could be classified as a “mean drunk”.  Jim was a mean drunk.  Even back when we were neighbors, if he went a little too far with the booze, it would be a bad night for everyone.  NukeMom knew him back then too.  He used to flirt with her, or any girl, for that matter, in a drunken stupor that no girl would find attractive.  He would hold on to her arm and not let her walk away.  On more than one occasion, it almost led to fights.  NukeMom and I weren’t an item yet, but we would be soon after.  Jim just always wanted and needed someone to listen to him.  As he drank, the need got greater; both for attention and alcohol.  We all out grew it.  He, apparently, never did.  He was fighting something much more sinister, known only to himself.

I hadn’t seen, talked to, or thought about Jim for a long time.  Then yesterday, my little sister sent me a link from the local newspaper.  I read it in disbelief.  Jim’s life had gone horribly wrong after we had lost touch.  In the summer of 2004 he was arrested for Aggravated Sexual Assault Of a Child.  It was a little girl.  She was 9.  I almost threw up.  He served prison time and was on probation when the shooting occurred.  After he got out of prison, none of his old friends would have anything to do with him.  He allegedly got into the drug scene and continued his downward spiral.  I looked him up on the sex offender web site after hearing about all of this and saw a picture of a truly broken man.  The look on his face was one of total despair.  I wanted to pity him, but I couldn’t.  Not after what he had done.

I’ll never understand what can possess someone to violate a child.  To me, there is no greater sin.  The reason I am having such a hard time with this, is because we already lived through this nightmare a year ago.  My neighbor across the street was arrested in July for the same offense.  We didn’t know.  Mr. and Mrs. AP didn’t know.  The Doc and his family didn’t know.  None of us knew.  He never had a chance to commit anything so heinous in our neighborhood, of that we are sure, but the shock remains.  Someone so close.  Someone we knew.  Someone we didn’t know at all.  3 days before his final court appearance before trial; he hung himself in his jail cell.  He left a wife, an 18 month old son and a bewildered community.  You just never know.  I think of his poor wife; an immigrant who had found happiness in her new, adopted country, and wonder how she makes it through each day.  I mostly think of their little boy.  I picture his father pulling him around their driveway in his Radio Flyer wagon, his laughter filling the neighborhood.  Unaware.  Unaware of the demons that lived in his father.  I wonder who will tell him.  I wonder when they will tell him.  I wonder if they should tell him.

Jim turned to face the officer and blurted out a string of obscenities, knowing it would raise the level of tension.  The officer, clearly getting agitated, told Jim to back off and calm down.  Jim continued his ranting and announced to the officer “I have a gun!”  He then reached into his back waistband and pulled out the toy handgun that he knew would be the means to his end.  The officer retreated, unholstered his pistol and fired at Jim until he had no bullets left.  Reports say it was at least 4 shots.  One witness says she heard as many as 10.  As Jim lie on the ground dying, the officer had a chance to get a good look at the gun that had been pointed at him.  It was then that he realized that it was a toy gun.  I can only imagine the turmoil and anguish he and his family must be enduring right now.  An unsuspecting executioner in another man’s desperate fight to quiet the demons.  Once, and for all.

Quick and easy this week.  Manager Mom suggested onus.  I said OK.  It’s not too big of a word, but it’s a fun word.  It means; a difficult or disagreeable obligation, task, burden, etc., and it is pronounced “own-us”.  As in: “Man, they own us in this game!”  Kind of like THE (the pretentious butt-heads make you put the “THE” in front of it) Ohio State University Football teams’ reaction when they played my Texas Longhorns the first game of the Longhorns’ National Championship season.  Nobody else expects you to do that.  Not THE Michigan State University, or THE Indiana State University; they all just say; “I go to Michigan State”.  ‘Nuff said.  You say that, and everybody pretty much knows what you mean.  Sorry, Momo, no disrespect, I just think it’s funny.  Maybe even a little haughty; which just happens to be our second word this week.  It means; disdainfully proud, snobbish, scornfully arrogant; supercilious.  WOW!  Sorry Momo, I didn’t realize it was such a strong word!  Maybe I should have picked aloof instead.  Oh, well.  I still think you can use it on your camping trip, though.  You can use it to describe that fellow blogger who happens to be a fan of THE Texas Longhorns.  As always, check the BWW Home Page for the full list.  Go forth, and verbalize. 

I don’t know if it’s bad blog etiquette to out your lurkers or not, but I just had a twinge of a million dollar fantasy flash before my eyes!  One of my 631 stat trackers came up with a hit for an ISP located at 20th Century Fox! (Cue theme from Rocky. I don’t know if they made it or not, just cue it!)  Can you see it?  Up there on the marquee next summer?  “Nuclear Family Warhead-The Musical”.  I’ve even made a poster mock up so that their PR department can hit the ground running. (You’ll need to click on it to get a clear view, it was a rush job)  Ahhh!  The possibilities are endless!  Private planes, limo rides to the Playboy Mansion for the epic party of the month, fisticuffs with Kid Rock and/or Tommy Lee at said Playboy party, telling TMZ to “GET LOST!” as they capture me walking out of Starbucks before I’ve had a chance to get my make up straight. 

Wait a minute; am I getting ahead of myself here?  What if the reader wasn’t Spielberg or Tarantino, but a gaffer or a key grip?  What if I’m assuming too much?  (Sigh)  I have had people at the Pentagon read my stuff, but as of yet, no 4 star General has called to consult with me on battle plans for Afghanistan.  Someone at Iowa State University reads rather frequently, but no Chancellor’s have called to offer me tenure, university housing and the Deans Chair of the Blogging College.  Yeah, probably just a false alarm.  Nevermind.

Hello. You don’t actually know me by name, but let me introduce myself. I am the severely depressed, erectile dysfunctional, herpes inflicted, anxiety disorder victimized, panic attack having, AD/HD….Hey look! A squirrel!……sorry about that, AD/HD suffering, narcolepzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz oops; dozed off again, didn’t I? Narcolepsy suffering, heartburn bemoaning insomniac who’s blog comment box you have been filling on a daily basis with all of those wonderful deals. How are you? I’m not so good. Thank God you found me in time. I would have gotten back to you sooner, but this personality only surfaces every few weeks, so I’m taking advantage of the time we have before “Frank” comes back and ruins the party for everyone. For ordering information, just call me, oh, um, I don’t really care-I’m the bi-polar personality, call me what ever you like, I’ll get pissed about it later. How about “Joe”?  Does that work for you?  Ok, good. I’ll call you Dr. Spammer; sound alright? COOL! Let’s do some bidness.

Here’s what I need: I’m looking for someone who can supply me with my meds on a regular basis.  The jerks at Wal-Mart won’t give me the $4 prescriptions anymore because apparently you need to be “sick”, or something in order to get one filled.  I AM sick, trust me.  The fact that I didn’t have it on “Stationary” or “Dr.’s Prescription Pad” is apparently an issue with the folks at Wal-Mart.  How was I supposed to know that the back of my Burger King receipt in highlighter wasn’t good enough for them?  That greeter was a real piece of work too, he’s supposed to say; “Welcome to Wal-Mart”, not “Stay the hell out or I’m calling the cops!”  Whatever. 

Anyway, can you help me out?  Here’s what I need: Valtrex, Viagra, Valium-basically I need all of the “V” family; send it all.  Next; I need Percocet, Wellbutrin, Lexapro, Celexa-everything in the “Happy” classification will be fine.  Also; Hydrocodone, Adderall, Ritalin, Xanax, Prevacid, Tramadol and Aspirin.  You know, for the headaches.  Oh, and Allegra.  I’ve got horrible allergies.  Please throw in an antihistamine and a nice multi-vitamin as this is basically my meal for the day.  Is it possible to get a volume discount?  I’ll be placing 2 to 3 orders a week.  Last but not least; is there anyway for you guys to combine these into just 3 or 4 pills?  You know, grind ‘em up and repack them in a bigger capsule?  I can handle anything up to the size of a tuna can.  The little ones, not the family size.  Thank you in advance for all of your help; reliable pharmacy service has been an issue for me lately, as I’m sure you can imagine.  You can reach me through my blog’s comment page at….HA!  What am I saying?  Jokes on me!  You KNOW where to find me, don’t you?

Apparently Dr. Isaid No has returned from the dank slums of Eastern Europe.  I was talking to Mr. and Mrs. AP the other day and they told me there had been a Doc sighting in the neighborhood.  It was more than a sighting, actually, it was a full-blown encounter.  Mr. & Mrs. AP did some spring cleaning and had a garage sale.  None of their customers ran over my mailbox this time, so I judge it a huge success.  After the sale they had a few toys left that they wanted to give to Bunson, the Doc’s 4 year old boy.  The Doc agreed and the toys were delivered.  Bunson had a blast all afternoon playing with his new used toys.  Then came bath-time. (Cue dramatic music).

It seems that the Doc and Bunson had differing opinions on bath-time; namely, when it should occur or if it should occur at all.  The Doc was for full body scrub-down while little Bunson was in the “I’ll play with my new toys whether I stink or not!” camp.  Guess who won that battle?  Bunson eventually made it upstairs with the assistance of some gentle persuasion followed by a full body lift and carry.  I understand that it wasn’t pretty.  After bath-time, or “Time Served” as Bunson would call it, Bunson returned downstairs at the urging of Nurse Thighhighs to apologize to the Doc.  Or so it seemed.

The Doc was relating this story to Mr. & Mrs. AP when they thought they found a discrepancy in the delivery.  Doc’s account was that Bunson came downstairs, tears still flowing and stated: “I’m sorry I was a crybaby-asshole.”  As in: “I’m sorry I was acting like a crybaby AND an asshole.”  After a few awkward  seconds, Mrs. AP made the gentle suggestion that perhaps that hyphen was actually a (gasp) comma, which would change the dynamic completely.  Did little Bunson actually say: “I’m sorry I was a crybaby, asshole”?  As in: “I’m sorry I was a crybaby YOU asshole!”  The Jury is still out.  I’ll let you know when they reach a verdict.

Well, at least this counts as 2 contests: the first and the last.  Tom at Being Michaels Daddy is the winner of the BWW POP QUIZ, as he was the only entrant.  Congratulations Tom!  Your bucket of genuine Myrtle Beach sand is on the way.  I have a feeling that Tom would have won regardless of the amount of entrants, had there been any; as he is a sesquipedalian of the first order.  Audubon Ron at Ducks Mahal claims that the dog ate his homework.  I would have thought it would’ve been one of his ducks, but it wasn’t.  We all know how hard it is to get bill marks out of paper.  Kimmylyn at Jogging In Circles was honest enough to say that she was “scared by the challenge and ducking out the back door”.  Kim, your honesty humbles me.  In retrospect I probably asked for too many big words, but that’s OK.  Live and learn.  Momo Fali is going camping and says she’s packing some big words for the trip; I’ll let you all know how that turns out when she gets back to me.  On to Tom’s winning words.

The first word Tom used was obfuscation; meaning to confuse, bewilder or stupefy.  That flawlessly describes the POP QUIZ.  The second word submitted by Tom was eschew; meaning to abstain or keep away from; shun; avoid.  Again, it describes the POP QUIZ perfectly.  Tom also used prodigious; an equally good word, but since the other two did such a good job describing my ability to conjure up a total lack of interest in ALL of my readers (yes, I’m talking to both of you), I decided to go with those.  I am not losing faith!  I know that some of you enjoy this little endeavor into the wonderful world of verbiage, so we will venture forward knowing that someone is benefitting somewhere.  The BWW Homepage is open 24/7; don’t be shy.

My neighbors dog is killing me.  It barks incessantly.  But ONLY at night.  Usually between the hours of 2am and 5am.  I think it suffers from daytime narcolepsy.  Barring a poisoned pork chop; I’m running out of options.  I have several that I can still employ, but the pork chop is looking better and better.  Now, before you call the ASPCA on me, understand that I am TOTALLY kidding about the pork chop.  At least for the dog.  The owners; however… 

I do take some pity on the dog.  It lives it’s entire existence in a store bought 8 X 8 chain link pen.  Her owner cut a hole in the pen and attached a dog house to it.  Sort of like an afterthought addition to a house.  The people house has no fence, so the pen is the only way to contain the dog.  Unless you count the times when they let her out of her pen and place her leash under one of the legs of a patio chair.  That worked out real well.  A 60 pound female lab can drag a wrought iron patio chair around the yard like it’s a cardboard box.  It was only slightly humorous when the dog thought the chair was chasing her around the yard.  She’d dart, tail between the legs down the hill only to look back to see the chair chasing her.  Her yelping brought out the owners quickly enough to avoid me having to become involved. 

This is a seasonal issue.  The winter time is blissful in that the nights are cold and she is in her dog house.  Most of the animals that cause nocturnal stirrings are usually asleep also; squirrels, possums, cats and the occasional Jehovah’s Witness.  Summertime brings warm evenings and lots of animal activity.  For some reason, our neighborhood has more squirrels than it has trees.  The squirrels are either spending their nights looking for new digs, or they are just monster partyers.  At some point during the early morning the revelers make their way to my house; like it’s Sixth Street in Austin; or Franklin Street in Chapel Hill.  Insert your University’s party street here.  Getting out of bed to go disperse the roustabouts is useless.  They’ll all just jump in their cars, turn on the radio and claim ignorance when I tap on their window with my nightstick. 

I’m sure some of you are thinking that if you were in this situation that you would unleash the Hounds of Hell to stop this; how come I’m not?  Well; it’s a little more complicated.   We have a drainage issue that centers on the house of the neighbors I’m talking about.  It involves a shady developer, the Mayor of the city, 9 acres of water that flows through my yard and another entire posts’ worth of explanation that I will spare you.  For now.  I have a plan; it’s the timing that is crucial.  D-Day took over 18 months to plan and execute; so have a little faith in me.  All the juicy details will be revealed as they occur; I promise.

We made it home in one piece!  No “travel” issues either, unless you count $4 a gallon gasoline or the sunburned tops of my feet.  I know, I know; but I had my sandals on, I can’t be expected to remember EVERYTHING!  Well, sandals won’t be an issue for a few days.  Nor will any type of footwear.  I’m going Cro-Magnon for a few days, maybe the peeling skin will be the reminder I need next time I go to the pool.  Overall, a great time was had by all.  We’ve vacationed in Myrtle Beach several times over the last 13 years or so.  NukeMom’s brother has a time share there.  We hadn’t been since 2004 and this trip was just us, so we ended up staying in a new place.  It was nice.  The new rage in Myrtle Beach is to make your hotel a “Family Friendly Resort”.  I use the term “resort” loosely, because they certainly do.  Again, no complaints with where we stayed….well, I’ll get to that, but; some of these guys think that “Family Friendly Resort” means having fresh towel service every other Tuesday. 

Myrtle Beach is a beach town in transition.  Some of the newer high dollar mega-tels are really nice.  They have the obligatory indoor/outdoor pool area, lazy river for the kids, vastly improved beachfront areas and some are even investing in miniature water parks for the kids.  They have the best of both worlds in Myrtle Beach.  They get the millions of family vacationers in the summer, but their actual “busy” season is in the winter time.  They cater to the convention/golfer crowd.  Boy do they.  There are over 100 golf courses in the area.  I’ve played dozens, and most are excellent.  The downside of trying to cater to families and golfers on business trips is that you end up with “Thee Doll House” Men’s Club being located right next door to “Captain Bennett’s Calabash Seafood Buffet”.  I tried explaining to Nukegirl that the “Doll’s” in that particular house wouldn’t be the type that she would want to play with; and that even though I might want to, I was too old to play with dolls.  And too married. 

There is literally something to do for everyone in Myrtle Beach.  Every socio-economic group could find something to do here.  The rich can play the “fancy” golf courses; the average Joe’s can hack it around just as easily.  There is fine dining for those that drink wine with their pinkie sticking out, and there are restaurants that serve beer by the bathtub.  It is the ultimate American Melting Pot.  I think I have just as much fun “people watching” on the beach as I do anything else.  I’m sure people are doing the same with me, but who cares?  How often can you be looked upon as a Prince AND a Pauper on the same day?  The one thing we missed that I really want to see when we go back is Hard Rock Park.  I guess they finally made enough money selling $15 cheeseburgers to open their own amusement park.  The centerpiece is “Led Zeppelin-The Ride”.  It’s 15 stories tall, 6 loops at 65 mph all to the sounds of “Whole Lotta Love”.  What’s not to like?  Check out the link for more.  Nukeboy1 was desperate to go, but he and I couldn’t justify the break-away from the rest of the klan, or the $50 ticket price.  I’m sure it’s worth every penny, but we didn’t have an entire day to spend there; so, we’ll wait until next time.  His classic rock education continues as he shopped relentlessly for t-shirts.  He came home with an album cover shot of AC/DC’s Highway to Hell that covers the entire front of the shirt (featuring Angus Young in all of his devil’s horned glory) that he has already been informed will never be worn to church; a Kiss shirt that features the debut album cover and a Black Sabbath Paranoid/Ironman combo shirt that I had never seen before.  You’d think we named him Damien, but we didn’t. 

The beach was great, though the waves were a little rough the first couple of days.  The pools were clean and well maintained throughout the day.  Nukegirl loved the lazy river, which in true NASCAR fashion travels counter-clockwise.  I think it’s a law, actually.  I think one hotel paid fines of $150 a day until they got their lazy river flowing in the right direction.  Sandcastles were built, sun-screen was applied (except for me and my feet) seashells were collected and crab legs were eaten.  By the plate full.  I think they lost money on me.  I ate so many crab legs that the next morning I didn’t even have to flush.  True story.  The only drawback to the trip?  The parking garage.  Getting in the first night required an 8 point turn for the first 2 levels.  I had 3 inches of clearance on the right side and 2 on the left.  That’s if I made the turn perfectly.  15 minutes to park the first time.  I ended up on level 4.  The guy in the parking space next to me took another 5 minutes to gather himself and stop the tears from flowing; it’s that emotional of an experience.  It is the most painted parking garage on the eastern seaboard.  They put up a new coat about every 30 minutes or so to ensure that new visitors don’t see the scrapes.  They have a stucco crew that operates like a NASCAR pit crew.  They can patch a bumper induced dent or hole in under 3 minutes.  They even have uniforms.  I got a little better each time, and by the last day I was zooming past the amateurs and paint crews at breakneck speed.  Tony Stewart would’ve been proud.