Like many ideas, the concept of designated drivers sounds good in theory, but the execution is often flawed. I was out one Saturday night, and my friend and designated driver had just left with someone and I was stuck thinking, "Now how am I going to get home?"
Mary Poppins: The Broadway Musical" is pure magic. I've loved the movie since I was five, and the stage production exceeded even my highest expectations.
In a column I wrote last July titled "Education is the key to the future." I commented on the financial problems faced by states and municipalities and the measures local governments were taking to clean up their fiscal houses. Among the options being considered at the time were cuts to education spending from elementary to higher education.
It must be a real challenge being a Republican lawmaker these days. Not only do you have to find increasingly creative ways to explain your opposition to positions you once supported; you simultaneously have to keep coming up with ideas that are even worse than the last ones your colleagues just promulgated. The race to the bottom is never won.
My face hits something hard as I fall out from the mirror. There's a sickening crack and blood and bits of teeth fill my mouth, and I almost pass out from shock. I welcome the pain. It reminds me I'm real again.
Dim orange light reveals a row of toilet stalls. Guttural whisperings echo from the mirror.
"You've lost him."
"It doesn't matter."
"He was our best."
"We'll replace him."
I shrink back against the wall, become one with the shadows under the sink. Whatever their words, I know they'll come for me. They always do.