180º to 360º: The second half of a round trip

My morning began with an elevator ride, unfortunately not ending in the classic 'child birth on a stopped elevator' trope. Instead I met a sweet old lady who sounded Canadian(?) who told me that her grandson was playing for the state championship today. All I said was "whooooooooooa," which reveals the flaw in elevator conversationalism: because you never know how long you'll be on the elevator you don't know if you can actually start the conversation. Maybe she was the Canadian speaker of the house, I'll never know. Afterwards we made our way to a lake where a lady made us take our picture while we faced right into the sun. A walk partway around the lake to get to a new site can be described by a single adjective: sweaty. The photo shoots didn't stop, with my mother insisting on "just one more" at least 86 times. The process was delayed by various family members inability to know when to shut up. Also my brother got scared of a moth and made us wait another minute. A silent car ride  preceded the arrival back to my grandparents home where I was disappointed to not find breakfast bagels AKA the traditional post Jewish photo shoot breakfast. After breakfast and an outdoor nap I sat on the couch with my family and watched with ambivalence as two grown men hit a ball back and forth for millions of dollars. Naturally this prompted my cousin to talk about his tennis expertise saying, "The fastest I've ever served, like ever, is probably like 87 miles an hour but that was like the fastest ever... probably." Without even turning around to face him I asked "ever?" He just walked away. Sometimes I don't even try to hide my sarcastic thoughts, like when my sister commented on 'a nice rally' and I asked her if she knew what sport was being played. Once the match ended we headed back to Winter Park, stopping in a 7/11 where the most backwoods characters trounced about as I tried to pick out a Gatorade flavor. One man walked disheveledly through the aisles with his mouth open to display an array of misaligned, graying teeth. His dead eyes moved me to make a hasty selection as I departed the convenience store. The way back to Winter Park was filled with NPR and heat as the 95 degrees of Florida atmosphere raped my pores. I lie here now in my bed ready to sleep knowing I have a long day of work tomorrow.