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Over the last few years, I've seen tons of corn mazes* pop up... both figuratively, and literally. (I mean, you have to plant the corn, then water it, and eventually, hack paths into it such that folks can get lost and eventually find their ways out.)

Well, how tough can it be to walk through some corn? The field isn't even that big, really. So far, so good. Aw, no running. Geez, we wouldn't anyone to stub their toe on a corn stalk, I guess. Well, the string isn't there to guide us, but this is getting a bit long-winded... but I'm not lost, nope.
That's not a good sign. Not only is he running in violation of the rules, but he took his hat off. Letting the calm, collected side of me take over, I just hopped up to perch and look for the exit. And with that duck's eye vantage point in my favor, the exit was soon well in wing.

* Maze, in this context, should not be confused with "maize", which is the Spanish word for corn, which helped Columbus and his lost boys survive the winter, nor should it be confused with a town in that state of which I will not speak, population about 1,500.

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