If You Can’t Beat ‘Em Scoot ‘Em
I can’t believe I posted this. No humility. “. - What the hell did you do that for?” Is not something I usually say at one of the happiest places on earth. Yet there I was on my last trip to Universal Studios in Orlando, saying it to my wife. Because on the second morning, in front of my kids and grandkids, she committed a small but unforgivable act of betrayal, one that stomped my dignity flat. She ordered me an electric scooter. Yes, I arrived with a bum right knee. Yes, I walked about eight miles the first day that felt like the Bataan Death March. Yes, I was downing ibuprofen like peanut M&Ms. But still, an electric scooter is crossing a big line. I considered that thing a rolling obituary notice. In my mind, it’s saying to world, “Yes, I have all my affairs in order.” I’m not in denial about getting older. I’v...