Well . . . how about the time in Venice when the pigeon pooped on my head and my mother wiped it in instead of off . . . or how about the time our Hungarian father took my mother, brother and I on a ride that went forward very quickly and switched to going backwards very quickly leaving my food to come forward very quickly on he and my mother . . . or how about the time my stepdad, brother and I had to chase my mother’s wig all over the Washington Monument one windy day . . . or driving through the streets of Montmartre in an extended van which was longer than most curves up those streets . . . or how about my brother and I having to chase our neurotic poodle all over the neighborhood most mornings before school . . . or the time my brother’s underground fort caught fire and his stash of porn mags were found . . . or the time my stepdad built a soapbox racer for my brother and on the initial test ride down a hill he realized he hadn’t put in brakes . . . or how about the time . . . most family stories come with a price at some family member’s expense . . . but then again . . . what’s a favorite family story without it being at the expense of one family member . . .