Mad Atoms

I grew up in Florida, amongst carnies, circus freaks, Jews, lots of lizards, and old people.  My parents still live there and because I’m a good son, I go back and thrill them with a visit from time to time.  I recently took my girlfriend home because we found cheap airfares on Spirit (she’s in grad school and makes about as much money per day as a migrant fruit picker).  I’d never flown Spirit, and had heard mixed things about them.  But it’s hard to beat $400 for two nonstop tickets.  So I ponied up. 

Spirit is staffed almost entirely by assholes.  We took the redeye, which left at 10:45pm.  We got to the airport at 9:45pm and checked in.  They asked if we wanted to pay $50 per bag for our first bag.  When we debated possibly carrying one on, the desk-cock shouted that the plane was boarding and if we didn’t decide soon, we’d miss the flight.  We ran over to the gate, only to discover our flight was delayed.  An hour later, we were on board, where we got to pay $3 each for a bottle of water.

Our Florida trip continued in that vein.  We went to the Improv at the Hard Rock to see Norm McDonald, who sucked harder than ROCKNROLLA.  He claimed to be sick, and sparked an interesting debate between me and my mom on one side (who figured he was sick) and my dad and girlfriend (who took the view that he was drunk off his ass).

In retrospect, I’m certain he was minutes away from blacking out. The show was made less enjoyable by the watery swill they call a Lemon Drop and the slushie my girlfriend got instead of a strawberry margarita. 

The rest of the time was spent doing the only two things there are to do when you don’t live in Miami – eating bagels and shopping at the world’s largest outlet mall.  And even though I make a decent living in the entertainment industry, my folks always buy me clothing there.  But I guess the economy must really suck, because after loading me up with sweaters and pants my mom walked away, leaving me to foot the bill.  

And no trip to visit the folks would be complete without my dad losing his shit for absolutely no reason.  This time, it was sparked by a guy manning the drive-through at Steak’n’Shake attempting to explain that the sundae we ordered only came as a shake.  After my dad got done screaming, he sped away, nearly side-swiping five other cars.  I told my girlfriend I loved her and reminded her that I only visit once a year. Maybe twice if my mom sweetens the deal with some khakis and cardigans.