Right now I’m in a Holiday Inn in Venice, Florida. If anyone comes here and wants my room, I’m in #104, one of the few that is in
Tonight the cast and crew sat on the roof-top area of Sharky’s down on the beach, watching the sunset over the gulf while listening to a band play “Margaritaville” that has a synthesizer with a steel drum band voice.
“Screw Vienna!” I exclaimed. “I’m moving to the tropics!”
And you know, sitting there thinking, “I can’t believe that in 24 hours I’m going to be back in Oklahoma”, it seemed like a plan. Bars stay open until dawn here. Grocery stores sell wine and, when I asked if the beer was “three-two” at a bar today, the reply was, “What’s that?” Yep. My idea of paradise.
Well, not Florida, but on the Gulf somewhere. Or maybe I should check out Key West. Now that’s a romantic thought! The end of the road! Hemmingwayland! I could do that. But there’s always a catch. In this case, hurricanes. Aw, crap…
From my interaction with the locals here, the best way to weather out an Act of God is by staying drunk… not all that different a mindset from what I’m used to in California with the earthquakes. I think I could fit in, even if I’m not from New York.
Anyway, I just wanted to check in. I’ll be writing tomorrow night. If I’m alive that is. So far, I’ve gotten about six hours of sleep this weekend and not all at one time. I can always nap during my three-hour layover at George Bush Airport in Houston. Bush always sets me to sleeping like a baby.
You dirty mind!
P.S. I have a lot of neat stuff to tell you guys, but it’s going to have to wait.