A One-way Flight with a Magic Hat in the Overhead

On the Atchafalaya bridge, I think, "Louisiana has a lot of long lanes." After the last post, I can’t stop thinking in alliteration strings.

Whenever I’m on a business trip, I try to think of the most fun thing to do within my parameters of space and time.  On my first job that required me to travel, I flew from Austin to SF area.  That was nice; I was spoiled.  On my second job, I had 75% travel From Tallahassee to Key West. That was nice; I collected tons of FF miles.  On my third job, I drive a government mini-van to remote areas of Louisiana. I try to think of the most fun thing to do within my 4 hours of reality. 

After dinner at the Mexican food restaurant, I come back to the Hampton and find Harry Potter. 

“Hello Harry,” I say in Ron’s voice.

Harry was picking out his first wand with the sort-of-nice, sort-of-creepy-uncle-like man.

           Background info: the same guy helped Harry’s parents get their wands. 

My expectations continue to lower after Harry’s first few tries.  (That’s a nice trick for authors who want readers to be excited when the characters actually get “it” right. Perhaps, you will be excited when I get it right!). 

Anyhoo, the idea of Harry having this magic extension made me think of how much I miss having a girlfriend.  But…that association doesn’t quite add up.   

“Why do you think your girlfriend is an extension?” Hermione’s voice asks.

“Because she becomes the second half of my thoughts.”

This meta-co-dependent relationship made me think of the time that I went to see a gypsy about painting my guardian angel.  She created pastel drawings of its image while she told me about our relationship—the many times it kept me from making a really bad decision.

Once I knew how to ring her up, I began to speak to my guardian angel as if she were on my shoulder.  For the sake of anonymity, let’s call my angel Athy-ra.  (I have her on double-time—trust me—; I can’t afford for you to be beckoning her).  I began making lists of things Athyra could do for me.  One day, I asked her to do something petty to some frustrating someone.

“I’m not your thug,” Athy-ra said.

“Hmmm. Is that what I meant?” 

I didn't think that's what I meant, but that's what I meant.  It’s good to know that your guardian angel isn’t send from the most powerful entity in the universe to be a personal thug.  Still, you can't blame a girl for needing a little muscle once in a while.

Maybe I think that magical forces should break down barriers, help me pick numbers at the crap table, and tongue tie bullies. Maybe I think that girlfriends are magical forces?  I’m not sure I like this math.

At this point in the story, Harry has picked his wand, and the magic hat is picking Harry’s dorm. 

         “But where to put you?” It asks.
         “Not Slytherin; not Slytherin; not Slytherin; not Slytherin; not Slytherin; not Slytherin...”     

        “’Slytherin’ will help you on the way to greatness!”

Hmmm.  Maybe I don’t need a girlfriend or a thug.  I just need to wear that magic hat for a few seconds.

         “But where to put you?” the hat would ask.

         “Isla de Mujeres,” I would plead!