Carl Hiaasen Screams

In my mind, I’m on vacation. But I’m not on vacation, I’m living. And you have to live somewhere. I watch other people coming and going…I assume to dinners and drinks at tiki bars. I think they must all spend days going kayaking in the bayous. But maybe some are going to work. One woman lives in a large fifth-wheel and comes and goes in a small car. That car didn’t pull that whale! But we’re all here, in this campground, for different reasons. Dwayne’s here, like I am, to escape the cold. Martin is here as an active duty Coast Guard pilot, with his family, for a three month course. Because of the government shutdown, the class start date was missed; and therefore cancelled. They will head out for their next duty assignment and base housing soon.

Many of the RVs in the campground are huge! A couple look like they’re two stories. They call the bottom story the basement. I have a cargo carrier on top of my car, so I call it my attic. I was worried it would be too light up there while I was here. But I find that it’s been a great place to store the bags (from bags chairs & tables) and all my winter clothes. It’s been a great way to keep my site tidy.

I didn’t drive today, so I took the dog for a long walk. I was hoping to get to a nearby park, but it was too hot and humid for the dog and we turned back. The road was eight lanes across and “limited” to 55mph. Kal took advantage of any stretch of shade he found, which gave me time to look around at the brackish water that drained from the walled, fenced, and gated communities. Beyond the walls I could see impeccable, manicured gardens. Along the road, and in the foul water was any type of garbage you could imagine. I’m normally one to pick up my dog’s excrement, but in this case: I was like, why?

The weather is beautiful here and I enjoy not being in the cold, but I started wondering if “I” am the problem? Too many of us hate the cold and flock to sandy soil, palm trees, and Spanish moss. I try to justify it because I’m in a teardrop camper and I recycle. But really, in my head Carl Hiaasen screams, “Get out of here before I turn Skink loose on your ass!” Yes sir! But I mean no sir. It’s too beautiful: I must come back. The white sand has gotten into me in way that I can’t shake. But I promise to be respectful and clean.

I look forward to what each day brings. I look forward to finding a forever home as well. But in the meantime, hanging out in the sandy soil, underneath the palm trees, getting a little tanner every day sure is nice.

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