One category possibly missing in this year's Best & Worst issue is summer vacations.
The best vacation I ever had was last year in a ground-floor condo on the oceanfront at Virginia Beach. I chained my rented bike outside the sliding-glass door, and when the rising sun woke me each morning, I'd ride the entire length of the boardwalk. During the day, we'd lounge in the sun, and at night my wife and I dined al fresco, snickering at the fervor with which my teenage son and his friend flirted hopelessly with coquettes whose eyelashes batted endlessly. Maybe that's what made it so special. The week stank of romance; mature couples tempered by time and routine rejuvenated themselves in the boundless energy and hope of youngsters for whom love was still a desperate dream.
