Every day, most of us have stray thoughts like "hey, wouldn't it be great if . . ." and "I wonder what would happen if I could . . .", followed by some flight of fancy, some product of random synapses firing, half-remembered pizza dreams, and general pathology.
That's as far as it goes for most of us. There are few Ludwigs the Mad or Howard Hugheses among us to turn those thoughts into fantastical castles or giant wooden airplanes.
There is, however, one class of people empowered to turn any damn thing that enters their head into reality, no matter how odd the idea, questionable the circumstances that generated it, or deranged the underlying "logic." And we all have to live with the results.
Rep. Alan Grayson was standing in the middle of Disney World when it hit him: What Americans really need is a week of paid vacation.
So on Thursday, the Florida Democrat will introduce the Paid Vacation Act — legislation that would be the first to make paid vacation time a requirement under federal law.
. . . .
“There’s a reason why Disney World is the happiest place on Earth: The people who go there are on vacation,” said Grayson, a freshman who counts Orlando as part of his home district. “Honestly, as much as I appreciate this job and as much as I enjoy it, the best days of my life are and always have been the days I’m on vacation.”
I know, from experience, that children experiencing the wonder that is Disney World do not dwell on the efforts their parents made to get them there. They have only the most dim comprehension that they parents work to get money and exchange that money for goods and services like Disney tickets or, if they are not that well-off, kidneys.
Grayson and his ilk exist on a similar plane of childlike wonder. Where does the money to pay for paid vacations come from? Who knows, and who cares? It's probably Scrooge McDuck's vault, or maybe it streams from the tip of Sorcerer's Apprentice Mickey's wand. Just make the businesses do it. Employees can't be expected to bargain for it; they, too, are tired, sticky children in the eyes of Congress. Just order it by fiat, and like magic, America will be the Happiest Place on Earth.
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