There used to be a series of TV commercials exhorting you to, under times of stress, to have a Snickers bar and recenter your existence or something.

I found myself, once, climbing out of the Royal Gorge in Colorado, and, after having taken my life in my hands scooting out onto a support beam to swing onto the moving incline train (which had not been moving in the hour or two it took me to climb as far as I had to that point) I thought I’d enjoy the Snickers bar that was jammed in my PFD pocket. ¬†After the first bite I resolved to send my story to the company that owned the Snickers name and tell them how I’d taken their commercial’s advice.

And then the incline train stopped.

And it was no longer parked over the support beam.

And I had to swing out over open space in order to let myself down onto the tracks and begin the climb up the rest of the canyon wall… while hoping that the train would not start back up and kill me.

And I decided, “&^%$ Snickers.”