Normally I don't leave snowy Minnesota in the heart of Nordic ski racing season, but this year I made an exception and went to Key West. It was hard, but I made the best of it.
On Mallory Square we cheered the green flash along with thousands of fellow tourists as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. We watched a squadron of pelicans glide just above the shadowy water in perfect formation. Then we joined a crowd of people gathered around a bare-chested busker with a scruffy black beard. He asked for three volunteers, who said their names were Pauline, Martha and Ernest.
Standing behind Pauline, the busker pulled a card from her ear and waved it in the air. He did the same with Martha. But when he stood behind Ernest, a broad-shouldered man with an open shirt and a hairy chest, he screeched and out of nowhere a white rat appeared on the man's shoulder.
The crowd gasped.
"You can't do that," I said.
"He's right," said Ernest, who nudged Martha. "Tell him why."
"You must complete a series the way you began it," Martha said in a deep voice. "It's called parallel structure. If you begin with two cards, you must finish with a third card."
"Such wisdom!" shouted the busker, raising his eyebrows in mock amazement. "And tell us, does the sun set at night?"