Update 10-01-02


Hi,

The mail, in its entirety this week -- other than spam, urging me to buy Viagra -- comes from Robert Fiveson, who's plenty perky without any help.  He writes:  
About Peter Rosen's interest in what I do for work -- oh, the insights we get.  Also,
sometime have Pete show you his tattoo!  Yet again proving what I have told anyone who will listen (and that's exactly no one at this point) that you are never too old to be cool!  Also, by the way, Pete's a genuinely nice man.

Which leaves us with filler.  And since I'd rather not send on e-mail jokes I'm sure many of you are getting from other sources, here's another piece of my road trip (everyone loves road trips):

An hour later we were at Niagra Falls, where we almost did the dumbest thing possible without a barrel---we almost didn't ride the boat.
   The place was just so sleazy:  Wax Museums.  Ripley's Believe-It-Or-Not.  Robot Fortune  Tellers.
   And Souvenirs:  Falls on postcards!  Falls on mugs!  Falls on T-shirts!  Falls on rugs!  Falls in paperweights!  (Turn ‘Em Upside Down!)  Falls on Napkin Rings!  (Mail ‘Em Out Of Town!)
   Not to mention hats, pencils, earrings, watches, hand towels, beach towels, shower curtains, place mats, and every other damn thing you could think of.  (Falls on Condoms!---Imagine the Surge!)  I was all Falled out and we hadn't even seen the water.
   Which we finally did, from an overlook.  It reminded me of the Grand Canyon:  Big.  Impressive.  But what ya gonna do with it?
   Tom took pictures of me.  I took pictures of him.  Both of us shot weathered boats pushing through river foam amid hordes of attack seagulls.  (Something you never see in travel brochures.)  Good thing the dog was in the truck.  She would've barked and barked.
   "You really wanna do this?" I asked Tom, unencouraged.
   "I don't know.  What do you want?"
   Marty At The Beach.
   WHAT!!   WERE WE CRAZY?!?  OF COURSE, WE WERE GONNA DO THIS!!!
   We quickly paid our seven bucks each, getting throw-away plastic slickers in exchange.   (Blue, see-through, dry-cleaner's bags; in the movie, at least Marilyn Monroe got homey yellow oilcloth.)  On kids, these raintogs reached their feet.  Mine---in Xtra Large---was a bolero.
   To get to the boats---there's a bunch of ‘em---you go down steps.  Then elevators.  Then ramps.  Finally, you're at the water, but you have to climb back up---to the crowded top deck.  And you gotta ride the open deck.  What's the point of crouching behind windows?
   Just like you gotta take pictures.  Though you know you're too close, and it's too wet, and the birds are tryin' to eat your neighbor's head.  Even that's not worth wasting film on, as it probably happens a thousand times a day.
   You see the American Falls first.  And they're a mess:  Caved in.  Geriatric.  With---oh, yeah ---a couple billion tons of water.  Engineers and international philosophers have debated rebuilding these ruins---for morale's sake: America's gotta be the best.  But erosion just chews the river bed.  It's lost something like seven miles in 12,000 years (well, it's relative).
   And repairs wouldn't hold.  Plus, they'd be expensive, hard to justify to taxpayers.  Besides, the whole point of the falls is they're natural.  Who wants The Wonderful World Of Water?
   The Canadian Falls are better.  Everything You Ever Wanted In A Falls, Only Wetter.  Everyone got soaked.  I got especially drenched, in my mini-Maxipad.  Children shrieked as each wave swamped them, and their parents screamed along.  I couldn't stop grinning.  "Wanna go again?" I asked Tom, even before our boat headed back.  Hell, we'd already drowned.
  And I don't know see why our Canadian neighbors keep whining:  they have the good Falls and the best Rockies.  What more's a country need?

More of this at hometown.aol.com/jqxz13, then click on Wisecracking Across America.
Meanwhile, the South home page (not a link): hometown.aol.com/falcons1965a

And I should get home to L.A. this weekend, which means -- if the pictures have gotten there -- that I should be able to get the Florida mini-reunion photos on-line (yeah, yeah, yeah, those are purportedly the ones with the hot tub).


Rich