Plan B is the trademarked name for a drug more commonly known as “the morning after pill.” I mention this because I almost scalded my nasal passages with coffee this morning when I started reading Petula Dvorak’s peppy article about part-time adventurer’s searching for missing light aircraft:

One of the best vanity plates ever was in front of me a while back, rolling west on Interstate 66.

It was on a minivan, with a dad hunched over the wheel, ducking as toys and food flew back and forth between his battling spawn.

The plate said it all: “Plan B.”

Maybe the driver once wanted to be an archaeologist slashing his way through the jungle, a mountaineer mapping new terrain or a crime scene investigator making brilliant deductions to solve the case.

But here he was, probably late for soccer practice or exiting early from a disastrous dance recital. [read the whole thing]

Later there’s a bit of (presumably unintended) hilarity later in the piece when Dvorak mentions overpopulation.

Incidentally, you’d think coffee would be a bad plan after a nearly-lethal case of heartburn, but since I’m pretty sure there’s nothing left of my esophagus and the coffee is just running straight into my thoracic cavity I’m not sure it really matters anymore. That might also be the fever talking…