I like to give people their due when they come up with a brilliant idea that is so simple that they should make a ton of money. Today, I salute the guy/gal who thought up of personal luggage for kids. You know the little backpack/slash carryon luggage with the rollers. Someone thought about making them a little smaller and putting kids favorites on them such a Barbie or Disney stuff. Genius. Pure Genius. You see these little people in airports proudly pulling these things behind them just like their moms and dads. If a parent tries to do it for them, they throw a fit. It is their luggage and damnit, they are going to drag it behind them!
I admit it. When I left the office in downtown Minneapolis and went to my car in the parking gargage, I got lost. I couldn't remember where my car was. I thought I was on the 6th floor. I remember looking at the area I was in and seeing a 6. Problem was, I got into the elevator and the levels were lettered, not numbered. Shit. Hmm...a,b,c,d,e,f. I must be on level F. No. That isn't right. I go back to the elevator. Long wait. So I start walking around the parking structure. Kinda Seinfeldian (hey, that might be a new word!). Thankfully, I didn't have any fish or have the need to pee.
As I ate lunch, I was paging through the USA Today. In there was a story about teens having plastic surgery. Most of them are having the boobs done. One comment that I thought was equally hilarious and stupid was a girl justifying having her jugs jacked by saying "My aunt had it done and my mother had it done; breast augmentation runs in our family". HUH? No, baldness runs in the family. Heart problems run in the family. Boob jobs do not run in the family.
I can tell that the long walk through the Minny airport is a lot easier after you have a couple of beers.