Life is a beach
At long last, I'm ready to resume, and with luck conclude, the tale of our vacation in Florida.
How We Contributed to the Cuban Relief Project, or Wilson Gets a Friend
Monday morning came early (disappointing Sunday, who had hoped they were past the whole "hair trigger charlie' thing) and I went to get my hair cut. Not to worry, friends and neighbors, I didn't do anything radical. The flowing mane you see still exists; it's just been pruned back a bit in the interests of personal hygiene and public safety.
Anyway, while I was gone, my mom went out beach shopping and came back with about a half dozen kites, and several beach balls of various sizes. The kids decided to inflate the largest one and take it out onto the beach to play. They took turns blowing into the little nozzle thing on the end, and after about 15 minutes the ball stopped looking like a limp multicolored baggie and began to assume a roughly spherical shape. They were getting a little tired of huffing and puffing, and if I had been there, I would have reminded them that I brought a portable air compressor along just for blowing up rafts, footballs, volleyballs, beach balls, inner tubes, artificial feminine companions, and whatnot, but since I wasn't there, they had to do it the old fashioned way, with lung power and copious quantities of drool.
Why is it that a child cannot blow into a nozzle without drooling all over it? Is it a genetic thing or a developmental one? All I know is every time I get handed one of these things to seal the valve, I have to wipe a half pint of spit off of it first.
Once the ball was inflated they took it to the beach to play. My brother went along to keep an eye on the kids and keep them out of trouble. Well, the kids started kicking the beach ball around, tossing it back and forth, and playing like kids will do, while my brother stretched out and took it easy for awhile. There was a medium strong breeze coming from inland blowing out to sea, andit wasn't too long before the inevitable occurred. One kick was a bit too high, and the wind caught the beach ball and sent it sailing out into the ocean. The kids started to chase it, but the ball was light and the wind was strong, and there wasn't anything they could do. They called my brother, who saw at once that the ball was beyond retreival, and he called them back in to the beach. They sat quietly and watched as the ball moved out to sea, bobbing gently over the waves. We were certain tha our ball was lost forever, never to be seen again.
We were wrong.
Later that week, watching the local news, we saw our beach ball again. It had been commandeered by Cuban exiles who had used it, along with 3 cardboard boxes, 2 long pieces of twine, and several rolls of duct tape into a raft capable of carrying 14 people, 7 iguanas, 2 dogs, and 12 boxes of cigars.
Just doing our bit for democracy, ladies and gentlemen.
Evolution in action
That night, as we were returning from a family dinner, I saw a strange critter crawling on the side of the road. The best way I can describe it is it looked like a possum wearing a suit of armor or a king sized roly-poly. For y'all that aren't familiar with the roly-poly, it's a little bug that lives under rocks and logs and stuff that rolls up into a tight little ball when you touch it. It stays that way for several minutes, then, when it thinks the coast is clear, it unrolls and proceeds about it's roly-poly business. Of course, that's when you touch it again, causing the cycle to start all over again. This torture of a helpless insect provides countless hours of amusement for redneck kids all throug the south.
Only this critter couldn't be a roly poly because it was way too big, and there weren't any nuclear plants within miles. We decided it must have been an armadillo, because we'd heard that they were becoming very common in Florida and other southern states, including west Tennessee. As near as I can tell, the armadillo is proof that evolution ain't all that bright.
Here we have a critter based on a possum. The way I figure it, the possum has to be the worst road-crossing animal that there is. Cats, dogs, squirrels, rabbits, skunks, groundhogs, and other animals manage to cross the road all the time. Sure, every now and then one of the weaker ones fails to make it all the way across, but you don't see nearly as many dead rabbits as you do possums. We even made a joke about it:
Why did the chicken cross the road?To show the possum it could be done!
So, nature has a problem. The possum is just too slow to make it across a highway, and keeps getting suished beneath the tires of an SUV loaded with kids coming back from a soccer game. Now a smart person would decide that maybe the possum needs to be a little smarter, or a lot faster in order to avoid oncoming traffic. But no, evolution decides to go in a differetn direction altogether. Nature gave the possum a suit of armor, so that it could stand against the oncoming vehicle and do valient battle with it. Nature even equipped the improved possum with an agressive nature, causing it to leap up at the approach of a car, to better engage the enemy. Once she made these modifications, nature decided the new, improved possum needed a new name, one which befit it's new weaponry. She called it "armadillo", from the latin for " little warrior" and sent it out to do battle.
Sadly, nature didn't take physics into account, and the 10 pound armadillo continued to get creamed by the two ton cars it challenged. In time, the meaning of "armadillo" changed to "Critter most likely to be found squashed by the roadside."
Kite? Nope! Advanced Performance Aeronautic Aerobatic Device
By Wednesday, the wind was really picking up. There were two tropical depressions, one on either side of florida, and the result was a constant 20-25 mph wind
Playing volleyball was out of the question as the team with the wind at their backs would win every match, so we looked for other pursuits. Remember when I said my mom had bought several kites? Well, the kids pulled out those bad boys and had a blast. The kites were the standard Gayla delta kites we all flew when we were kids. With the wind we had launching them was a piece of cake. Let out a little string and away the kite went.
Now I don't know about you, but to me, kite flying is exciting for about 30 seconds. You launch it, pay out your string, and there you are. The kite floats in the air and you watch it. It's like watching paint dry without the suspense.
So, I went out and bought a stunt kite. The one I bought was a low rent model, not much sturdier than the delta kites. I should have known better. The control harness was woefully inadequate for the winds we had, and would suddenly and irreversably snap to one side or the other, sending my kite into a death spiral that continued until it plowed into the sand. This happened several times, and I was beginning to get frustrated, but I'm nothing if not stubborn and I continud to try and fly it until the harness finally gave way completely. My longest flight was 2 minutes. At least I was never bored.
A lesser man might have conceded defeat at this point, giving in to the elements, and retreating to battle on another day. Not me, brother. I went back to the store and explained my problem to the clerk, who was most helpful.
"What you need," he said in a conspiratorial whisper," is the XJ-27 model APAAD. That's the ticket for this weather."
"Tell me more," I said, intrigued.
"Well," he said, "I can't show this model to just anybody, you understand. The technology is too advanced, and if it fell into the wrong hands, well, you know."
"Come on,"I said. "It's just a kite."
"Just a kite?" he said. "Just a kite? Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. Go to a toy store if you're looking for 'just a kite!' The XJ-27 is an Advanced Performance Aeronautic Aerobatic Device. Here, let me show you."
He reached behind the counter, and unlocked a small case, and brought out a plastic tube. He opened the tube, and went to work, assembling the XJ-27 APAAD. When he finished, he had a miniature hang glider about 4 feet across. The material was a colorful nylon, held in place by miniature bungee straps, and the control lines were braided cords similar to those used on parachutes.
"This," he said, "is the XJ-27. It'll fly in 5 to 30 mph winds; do loops, stalls, figure eights, dives, and will hover sideways. The control lines are 250 lb test; the struts are
a reinforced carbon composite material. They're held in place by soft rubber sleeves which are designed to breakaway on impact to protect the structural integrity of the unit in the event you crash it. This model can be launched solo, or with a partner. Just a kite? I don't think so."
My eyes had glazed over, looking at this wonderful APAAD. Even in the shop, it looked like it was flying, ready to soar on the winds, to take on whatever challenges the weather and I could throw at it. I had to have it.
We negotiated the financing, and when my credit check came back denied, he directed me to a nearby plasma bank, where I quickly and painlessly acquired the funds I needed. I had my kite.
I took it back to the beach and assembled it. Even on the ground, I could feel it quiver as the wind filled the nylon. It wanted to fly; it was a creature of the air. I laid the kite on it's face and paid out the line. Gripping both handles tightly, I gave them a sharp tug to initate a solo launch. BAsed on my experience with a delta kite, the nose should have lifted, caught the wind, and sailed into the air.
Nothing. The XJ-27 skidded a few inches through the sand and stopped. I tried again.
Nothing.
The sun was beating down on the back of my neck as I stopped to consider why the XJ-27 was land bound. My kids were staring, looking around the beach to make sure nobody else could se their dad, unable to launch a kite. I tried again.
Nothing.
My youngest son offered to hand launch the kite for me. I snarled something unintelligible, and he backed cautiously away. After fighting the other kite for several hours, I was not about to be defeated by this one. I would make it fly. I tried again.
Still nothing.
It's said that a good definition of insanity is to try the same thing but expect different results. By that definition, I spent the next twenty five minutes certifiable. Eventually it dawned on me that i simply was not going to work like I tought, and that I was going to have to change something. I decided for variaty to lay the kite on it's back instead of it's front. I tried again.
The XJ-27 leapt into the air like the Space Shuttle at liftoff, streaking into the sky until it was almost straight overhead. I knew then why the control lines were so stout; the tug of the kite pulled me two steps down the beach before I got my balance. I stabilized the kite, then decided to try a loop. I pulled back gently on one of the handles, and the kite began to lean in that direction. I puled a little more, and the XJ-27 performed a slow,graceful roll to the right. The wind made a roaring noise through the airfoils , a noise that got louder as the kite cut into the wind. I rolled in the opposite direction to unwind the strings. Then I tried a snap roll. I pulled back on the right handle sharply; the XJ-27 responded immediately, plunging into a series of right hand loops, reeling off three of them before I could respond. I quickly let out the right line and stabilized the kite, only to snap into a tight left roll, again to unwrap the lines.
One loop, two loops, three lo....oops.
I ran out of sky. The XJ-27 did a full speed nose dive into a sand dune. I just knew I had destroyed it, and as I walked over to the wreckage, I began wishing I had bought the insurance policy the salesman had offered. I got over to where the XJ-27 lay, and surveyed the damage.
I looked again.
Nothing.
Cool!
To make a long story short (way too late for that) this kite performed like a champ. I was diving, looping, hovering, spinning, and figure-eighting like a pro in no time. I let the kids take turns flying it, and we all had a blast. No matter how many times we face planted it, all we had to do was slip the composite struts back into the rubber sleeves, and back into the sky it went. The winds held for the rest of our vacation, so we got plenty of use out of the kite. It's stored safely in my closet now, dreaming of the open sky, and just waiting for a gentle breeze to fly again.
Kite? Nope! Bread bag!
My mom had a little bit different approach. She watched us all flying our kites, and decided she would make her own kite. She took the bag from a loaf of bread, tied a string to the open end, a tail to the other end, and launched it. Like the F-4, her kite proved that given enough thrust, anything will fly. The bread bag opened up, filled with air, and shot into the sky. Of course, she couldn't do fancy tricks like mine, but then again, she didn't have to sell her plasma to afford it either.