Yesterday we visited the U.S.S. Hornet, a decommissioned aircraft carrier. A friend of mine who volunteers there had offered to take people to areas not open to the public. The Sober Husband loved the engine room, while I found the little zone where the nuclear bombs had been kept to be the most fascinating (the warnings were still up declaring it a classified zone of the highest level, and there was a guard station by the door, and a small group of people lived down with the bombs).
As we walked up to the Hornet, one of the children felt uneasy. "It's scary! I'm looking at it, and I'm feeling scared. What am I, French?"
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