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when I would fly with my parents going somewhere because I was just content to stay in the hotel or whatever while they traipsed around all over town. I'd stay in a hotel, watch cable, rob the mini bar, go out to, you know, maybe around the corner from the Chinese or some Korean feller and buy a fake-ass gold chain and tell myself that my money's going to help Mandela and, you know, maybe sport some slum village gold to some of the hood rats or something, right? So that's my idea of fun. Don't ask me, right? Okay, I'll turn it back to you, Darryl. I'm still here. VA3KKY.