My brother was first in line at Fry’s this morning to snap up a refurbed GPS for under $200. He has wanted one for a year, even though he knows every street in the county and is the only one I know who can make it from Kennedy to Jesuit during rush hour in a half-hour. (He has his secrets, and won’t share them.)

He is now on his way to the airport, to pick up a friend of ours coming in from Baton Rouge. (I love saying “Baton Rouge.” So much more fun than “Red Stick,” don’t you think?)

“But … you KNOW how to get to the airport,” I said, pointing out the patently obvious. “You’ve been there a million times. Hell, you used to WORK there. You don’t need a computer to tell you the way.”

“Ahh, but does the GPS know how to get there?” he replies. “THAT’s the question!”

I’m going to assume it does, and not bother with an update. Boys and their toys! Sheesh!