Michael D. Davis.

Everyone seems to take summer vacations. I know people that have been all over the country this summer and a few that have been out of it, all in the name of summer vacations.

My summer vacation was Tuesday. It started when I woke up at noon, but that’s nothing abnormal. Me and my Ma got in the car, kicked on the tunes, and headed towards Ames. This is not a destination that is common to us, but as any animal owner around here will know, it is the nearest town with any sort of pet stores. Going west, we headed through several road construction areas, all of which had men in neon vests standing together, contemplating the world.

When we finally got to Ames, we went straight to the pet store. The mission was simple, get a fish. So, naturally, I started by looking at the lizards. When I finally did wander over to the aquatic section, I was taken by the goldfish.

Looking around, I found a saleswoman and inquired about what goes into taking care of a goldfish. My thoughts were bowl and water. She said a 30-gallon tank. I nodded a few times then changed the subject. Eventually, I ended up at the beta fish. The saleswoman said at least a three-gallon tank was recommended; I nodded again, looking at the fish floating in their clear dixie cups.

An interlude was then had for lunch. Me and my Ma don’t do big cities very well and quickly ended up lost in a cul-de-sac. What then proceeded was thirty minutes of driving around Ames, trying to find the Burger King. Two things would have made this easier: One, if we knew Ames at all, and two, if the Burger King wouldn’t have closed up shop. Thirty minutes of driving to figure out that the reason we can’t find the Burger King is because the Burger King doesn’t exist anymore.

After our failed BK quest, we grabbed some burgers at McDonald’s. Not wanting to get out of the car, we proceeded back to the pet store to sit out front in the parking lot and have lunch.

Now, I am a fat guy, and I have eaten in some strange places. I am talking cemeteries, highway medians, and doctors’ offices, but eating in front of the pet store had a whole new taboo vibe.

When we were back in the pet store, we grabbed all the necessary equipment the saleswoman said we needed. We grabbed a good lookin’ dixie cup beta fish. We were about ready to leave, but we needed one more thing, a snail. We looked around, found a little dude sliming up a ceramic castle thing, and pointed him out. The saleswoman then proceeded to reach in, barehanded grab the dude and plop him into a plastic baggy for us. I was both grateful to receive the snail and grateful not to be the snail at that moment.

Then after an hour’s drive back home, we set everything up, and I am now sitting next to the house’s newest editions, Pinky and Floyd. It wasn’t Italy or South Carolina, but it was one hell of a day.