Florida's not my favorite state, but as a break from a Philadelphia winter it's not bad. Couple that with lots (and lots) of to-die-for Italian food and you've got yourself a recipe for an enjoyable winter vacation.
Staying with Dan's parents is like being at a resort. There's always great food (and plenty of it) and you don't have to do anything but sit around in bare feet and watch TV. Which I did. I caught an episode of Jerry Springer entitled, "My Sixteen-Year-Old Daughter is a Drug Dealer and a Whore." That's entertainment, my friends.
The flight out was suspiciously on-time departing and arriving, but we paid our dues coming back when our flight was an hour late. During our wait I did some brisk laps around the terminal, and I can therefore say with some authority that there was nary a cute guy to be seen. Apparently, it was No Cute Guys Flying from Fort Lauderdale day, so I was reduced to reading my book about Darwin and the theory of evolution. (Yeah...like that's important to anyone.) Also, either I had some bad luck, or everybody and his sister Sue is wearing those awful, awful velour track suits, in a horrid profusion of colors: brown, black, pink, and even peach. The prize winner was a fiftyish man in a black version of said suit, wearing a large gold medallion over a hairy chest exposed by the partially opened zipper of his jacket. Not making that up.
1 comment:
You and your crazy scientific theories...
Ew about the track suit man - you'd think he'd be afraid his chest hair would get caught in either the chain links or the jacket zipper.
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