This story starts with a flat tire, turns left at ducklings and stops hard at fire ants. Where else is that even possible?
I flew last week from Seattle to New Orleans, landing shortly before midnight. Buses to the economy parking garage were scarcer than facts at a political rally. So, after a 45-minute wait and 10-minute ride, I stepped off the bus with too much stomp.
When I found the car, I stomped more. The car’s right-rear tire was flat. And, I soon found, the left headlight was dead.
I drove-limped to a gas station with a coin-operated tire pump. It was there, while fumbling with eight quarters, that I saw a mother duck and her babies – 10 in all. They sat, alert but still, not four feet away while I pumped.
I arrived home to find my wife had waited up. How nice.
Pro tip. When you arrive home after 2 a.m., and your spouse says she’d been bitten earlier by 30 fire ants, the correct first response is not “How do you know they were fire ants?”
