Who Knew?

In another lifetime, in a galaxy far, far away, I knew my hammocks. Well, actually, some Canadian dude knew a lot about hammocks and while we found ways to pass the time at our mega-hippie campground (this was years before they put in a pool, thank you very much) outside of the ruins at Palenque, he laid the knowledge on me. Lawrence! That was his name. One of those guys you run into while you're traveling in Mexico: bearded, wizened, and totally unencumbered by the realities of everyday life. He was like a Buddhist crossed with a teenager. He had what was basically the Cadillac Escalade of hammocks: a huge, finely woven number that could easily fit two people and - wait for it - was made from silk.

While I did end up spending a lot of time in my not-nearly-as-nice-as-Lawrence's hammock, I never had a reaction quite Miles does to hammock-topia. It must be the horse blanket.