Yesterday, I spent a pleasant half-hour humming “Sixteen Going On Seventeen” in fits and starts, only to realize that this here website is the same age as Liesl Von Trapp (we turn 17 in July). It, too, would gladly sneak out after dinner to flirt with a boy in a gazebo, though it would have dumped him the second he opened his condescending mouth to croon, “You wait, little girl.” Still, this was all the peg I needed to download a bunch of Sound of Music screenshots and give everyone the same mischievous earworm that wriggled through my brain:
I went on the Sound of Music tour in Salzburg, and they don’t let you go in the gazebo anymore because people kept trying to do the bench routine and someone finally got hurt. Or at least, that’s what they tell you. I am inclined to believe it; I myself could not resist photos. I traveled by myself that whole trip, and the only time I ever asked anyone to take a photo of me was when we went to the arbor that Maria and the kids skip through. YOU BET I skipped through it too.