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November 22, 2011 / Wendy Joan

Something is Rotten in the State of Florida

This post is not a post about not posting, though I do apologize for the delay.

This post, rather, is about a phenomenon of the upmost importance. Something that has been happening the past three years I’ve called the Gulf Coast of Florida my home.


It sounds pathetic, but it’s true. And happened way too many times not to notice.

Here’s the backstory: I’m from the Buffalo by way of New York City. That should be enough information you need to know why my family and friends turn up in the general vicinity around the winter months.

Perhaps it’s because I live approximately 95 miles from the happiest place on earth. (Which is another argument entirely … why, as a consenting adult, would you spend your hard earned money so irresponsibly? Go see a new country, for Buddha’s sake. Re-living your childhood is not only disappointing, but creepy. And unnecessarily expensive.)

I’m not going to name names, but in the past three years, I’ve driven two and a half hours each way on a Sunday for a brief visit with a parental, missed best friend by an hour and a half drive more than once, carted other unnamed persons here there and everywhere. Peeked at photos taken of friends in my near-backyard.

And you know what? No one has asked if they can visit me. Because they’re on vacation, and I’m at work or school. Or at the beach. Because I live near the beaches everyone wants to vacation on. In the city that holds the Guinness World Record  for consecutive days of sunshine. 768! 768 days of sunshine in a row!

I call bullshit.

And I make an early resolution for 2012: Im staying put. You can find me in sunny St. Pete.

(Photo by ferret111)


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