It’s not often these days that I have time to sit down to a leisurely read of the newspaper. But last weekend, I picked up a copy of the Maine Sunday Telegram and skimmed through the headlines, looking to catch up on what was happening in the world around me--looking for something which might capture my attention.
“Snail mucus”… Yep. That caught my eye.
The article summarized some of the strange news which had been reported in the year 2010. The location from which these bizarre stories originated? That tropical peninsula to the south, Florida.
I’ve never been to Florida. I’m not sure this article was an enticement to go.
It appears that the Florida bomb squads were kept busy last year. They worked feverishly to save the residents of one Cocoa neighborhood from a box containing two kittens. In Orange County, a stuffed pony (stuffed with fluff and not oats) was reined in by competent disposal experts. The kittens were saved. The pony—detonated--wasn’t even glue factory material by the time the armor-laden heroes finished with it. And in Melbourne, a street was closed off for three hours while a disposal team studied schematics for how to deactivate a restaurant pager.
Florida, like Maine, has a high percentage of senior citizens residing within its borders. And like the elders living in this great state, Floridian oldsters don’t put up with any shenanigans.
An 83 year old man was knocked to the ground by would-be robbers, but they high-tailed it when the gent pulled a gun on them. Now, that’s my kind of grandfather! Another criminal was stopped after smashing the windshield of a 69 year old woman’s car with his pistol. He dropped it. The lady retrieved it, first, in what I am sure was a classic “don’t mess with me, Sonny-boy” dive for the weapon. The crook took off in such a hurry that he dropped his cell phone, too, thereby allowing officers to locate and arrest him. That man was a Keystone Kriminal, for sure. And an 84 year old gentleman was arrested after he (allegedly, mind you) smacked a deputy with his cane.
That ought to teach that young whippersnapper of a law enforcement-agent a thing or two about how to arrest someone from the Greatest Generation! (Hint: Very respectfully…) Ah, you’ve gotta love gram and gramps.
Also in the Florida news: A Miami attorney was denied the right to meet with her client at a corrections facility after the underwire in her bra set off the metal detector.
The plucky lawyer removed the offending brassiere, but she was then denied her client due to the fact that she was braless. A Catch 22? (Or perhaps, 36C?) Personally, I admire the woman for the dedication (and such) she displayed when she whipped that undergarment off. Imagine the hullaballoo if she’d been wearing a sequined shirt…
Of course, anyone who was a fan of the show Miami Vice might well assume that Florida deals with many drug-related crimes. And--many drugs. I found the story of the man pulled over in Manatee County to be particularly telling. The man who was arrested claimed that the crack in his crack wasn’t his.
He asserted that the marijuana which was found in his vehicle was his—but not the cocaine. I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why the fellow was disbelieved. Surely, his story was credible! How many times have we asked someone to make a delivery for us—say, to return our rented DVD or to take a package to the Post Office--only to have the transporter say, “Sure. I’ll take it. But my truck is pretty full. You don’t mind if I carry it in the crack of my bum, do you?”
Happens to me, all the time.
And finally: It seems that several people in Miami complained that they became ill after eating mucus from a giant snail during a religious ceremony. It occurs to me that I would have done my complaining much earlier—say, when I was told I was expected to consume snail mucus! But maybe that’s just me. I’m from Maine, after all. We serve baked beans, casseroles and biscuits at our church suppers.
Nope, I’ve never traveled to Florida, although I have many dear friends—snowbirds, we call them—who spend six months of the year in that land of sunshine and warmth. And there’s something else I’ve never done. I’ve never attempted to transport my valuables in anything that might be hidden inside my jeans—except inside my pockets. Although I did have an egg fall out of my bra, once.
But that’s a story from Maine and not Florida. And… it’s a story for another day.
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Thanks go to Trev and Crookedpaw for their contributions to the 'smile department' in the comments section of this post. Trev has generously supplied me with the cure for Queen Latifah's (supposed) problem. I am posting it here.
Snort!!! You guys! And yes. After figuring out how much 10 kilos would be (we American's don't 'do' metrics, guys), I decided that CP was making a joke. No one could (reasonably) hide ten kilos of ANYTHING in their skivvies. Heh. Sometimes I'm a little slow on the uptake. And honestly? Queen Latifah is a lovely woman. I've even heard tell there are guys out there who like an ample booty. (Thank goodness!)
