We Couldn't Make This Stuff Up…
This one's a real handful
I took my daughter to New York City for a graduation trip, and we hunted down the Naked Cowboy in Times Square for a picture. After I snapped a shot of him with my daughter, he said he had a special picture for mothers. He promptly turned me around and grabbed my behind, so I grabbed his, too—for the photo op. This in itself is not that crazy—but what is crazy is that now every time I go on a trip, I find a unique character to help me re-create the pose. I have a scrapbook filled with booty shots, with people ranging from a Union soldier at Gettysburg to the "sheriff" of Deadwood to professional athletes. Sandy Stephenson, Hawthorne, Fla.
Now that's what we call one fly guy
Before some female colleagues and I went to Boston around Saint Patrick's Day, our coworkers dared us to find and bring home a pair of green boxer shorts. It was the perfect icebreaker: We met hordes of men, all more than happy to prove they weren't wearing green underwear. We finally hit pay dirt in Quincy Market, where a guy in green pin-striped boxers dropped trou and cut off a swatch for us. Kathleen Howe, Dallas, Tex.
Not quite par for the course
In Cooper Landing, Alaska, my friend and I ran into four guys in the hotel bar. We asked them what they did for a living; they said they played golf. "OK, and what else?" we replied. They laughed but never gave us an answer. We agreed to meet in the hot tub after dinner to share some wine, even though they didn't have suits and were going au naturel. We said we didn't mind—but were clear that we'd be wearing suits. We had a fun, crazy time and eventually retired to our own rooms. At breakfast the next day, we overheard a guest ask a waitress about the pro golfers who had been there the night before. We looked at each other in shock: They really were golfers! Lisa Spring, Warrington, Pa.
What, no high-speed chase?
We planned to stay at a friend's uncle's house in Vieques, Puerto Rico. He said we could use his car (a red Suzuki Sidekick) and left it for us at the airport with the keys inside. We found the car in a sea of other Suzukis and happily drove around for two days—until a man at a gas station stopped us and said, "Hey, that's my car." He explained that he worked for a car-rental agency and that we'd accidentally taken one of his vehicles at the airport. I was immediately suspicious, but one of my friends, who had been to the island before, said it would be OK; we simply switched cars and departed with a smile. I was totally shocked. The moral of the story: We stole a car and got away with it. Lauren Miller, Madison, Conn.
No oenophile left behind
During a vacation with my girlfriends at a winery in Vallecito, Calif., I was on crutches because of a knee injury. The wine tasting was at the bottom of a big hill, so I volunteered to stay behind, but they would have no part of that. They had the winery lend us an office chair with wheels, sat me down in it, and carefully pushed me down the hill so I could join in. Lee Ann Fields, Walnut Creek, Calif.
Bet the seagulls were mad, too
My daughter and I were dining at an outdoor restaurant in Vernazza, Italy, high above the sea. We were eating seafood and didn't really care for our calamari, so we decided to throw it over the stone wall to the seagulls below. We didn't realize there was another level of the restaurant underneath us. A very irate waitress came up looking for the culprits. We were mortified! Peggy Drane, Stockton, Ill.