The night before ended about like you'd expect, too, with yet another commodious adventure. Staggering into the restroom late at night, and barely more than sleepwalking, I just wasn't prepared for what happened. It was one of those automatic toilets, so I had my eye on it, but it lulled me into a false sense of security by not flushing automatically. Until the very instant I stood up.
When I awoke fully a moment later, I found myself pressed flat against the metal door, my feet still running in place. How I miss my own bathroom! (I may have mentioned that before.)
Approaching the borders of Yellowstone, I reminded him (ok, borderline nagging) that if he saw a bunch of people pulled over, he should stop and let me take photos of whatever they were looking at. After all, it’s my birthday tomorrow.
That reminded me of what our friends told us yesterday. During a trip through Yellowstone, their family stopped beside the road so the father could get something out of the trunk. An eager carload pulled up next to them. “Whatcha looking at?” they asked excitedly. Silently the father thought to himself, My Fritos, you morons! Aloud, he said, smiling, “Oh, just getting something out of the trunk.”