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June 25, 2013
I ended up next to a redhead cousin, 3 years my senior. This ordinarily wouldn't have raised hackles, save for the gustatory sustenance she saw fit to consume. When asked for her order, she uttered a 3-syllable word: long-since heard and quite absurd. I mutely demurred, as it made my gut curd: she might as well have asked for a TURD!

Her menu selection? Escargot. (That's “ess-cargo” to the uninitiated, and is another name for friggin' SNAILS.

But no matter; nobody ranted in there, conversation flowed like cool Maine air, and I tried not to think of this cousin's gut-fare.