Random Notes from a Crank

So I'm here in Florida visiting the in-laws. We did the Disney thing as usual, going to Epcot on one day and the alleged "magic kingdom" the next. The trip to the latter was brutal ~ hot and crowded as Hades. 

Epcot was a more enjoyable day although I've met a ride that made me nauseous. For some reason, we decided to go on the "more extreme" option of the Mission: Space ride there. The other option was "less extreme." The ride takes you on a space shuttle launch to Mars with certain stomach-churning hijinks. Of the four of us who partook in the ride, the only one who wanted to go on it again was my nine-year old daughter. Mrs. Nasty had serious thoughts about using one of the barf bags that were furnished. 

Since my in-laws live in a gated community, when I read Roxane Gay's flash fiction piece in the Spring issue of the Oxford American, I was taken by this bit of dialogue from Marcy's husband in "Group Fitness": "'Baby, people love the illusion of safety and the spectacle of enclosure.'"