The Land Of Sun and Flowers

I fucking love this place! It is always sunny, the warm breeze blowing through the palm trees, crystal-clear waters. Not only is this place a paradise by all definitions, but the collection of people that have settled in these lands make up the craziest bunch of motherfuckers I've ever seen. The only place I've ever been where you see a sweet old man at Publix wearing his khakis, striped polo, and orthopedic shoes during the day, and at night, you see him on the streets of Saint Petersburg in a leather thong, nipple tassels, a purple wig, and spike-studded high heels, waving gigantic dildos. His name is Bob, he's a retired mechanic, a great guy, worked hard his whole life, raised his family, buried his wife, and now he's a homo exotic nymphomaniac. Good for him!

Of course, we have our mix of hostile neighbors. I was driving down my street past one of my neighbors who has a large dumpster in their driveway. I assume they're moving. I see this wiry gray-haired woman crawling over the edge of the dumpster like some cruel juxtaposition of man and beast. She's maybe in her mid-sixties, wearing long denim shorts with a black Harley-Davidson T-shirt, gray socks, and black Crocs. Her beady eyes make contact with mine, and I'm caught between wanting to look away and feeling like I should wave. In the instant of contemplation, she tumbled to the ground. I let my foot off the gas, thinking I would stop to make sure she was okay. She somersaulted to her feet like some circus act, and in a single motion, raised both her middle fingers at me and screamed, "Suck my dick!" I assume she was just using a vulgar reaction to her embarrassment, but then I thought she could be a he. No way to know at this point. The mystery of the chaos that surrounds me is part of the intrigue. Fucking Florida, the Sunshine State, my home and happy fucking place. I love the hot, humid air in the morning, the sound of the waves, the call of the crackheads at sunrise. It's not for everyone, but it's what I call heaven.

Then there's the wildlife. Florida is packed full with alligators, snakes, and all sorts of critters that could kill you or even swallow you whole. When I first moved into my house, I took my dog for a walk. When we returned, Gucci, my big pitbull, heard a rustling behind the water heater. I turned around to the side of the water heater to see behind it, and there was a giant black cottonmouth coiled up, just staring at me, its eyes glowing in the shadow. I grabbed the nearest thing I could find, which happened to be a golf club, and started waving it around like a fucking madman. The evil serpent snapped at my feet, barely missing my Jordans. I screamed and threw the golf club before Gucci and I ran for the house. This motherfucker was scary; I needed a more deadly weapon than just a primitive club. I found some carburetor cleaner and a lighter. I sprayed the satanic serpent, and it hissed and went wild, slithering across the garage. It was then I realized this cocksucker was a prehistoric, ancient civilization monster snake, it was nearly ten feet long and slithered up the door, hitting my doorknob. It turned towards me again, so I hit it with the projectile spray and sparked the lighter, igniting the snake. The scene was that of a nightmare; I was pouring sweat in the fight of my life. I took off out of the garage, the gigantic cottonmouth on fire like a demon from hell chasing after me. I grabbed a shovel and simultaneously spun around in a chopping motion, severing the demon's head. That's Florida for you– one minute you're on a beautiful walk with your dog, the next you're fending off demonic prehistoric beasts.

Ah shit, don't get me started on those fucking hurricanes. Those assholes come roaring in like the wrath of God, tearing up trees and flooding our streets. It’s a living nightmare. But there's something about the way people come together during those storms that makes you feel appreciative. Neighbors you barely know suddenly become friends as you hunker down together, waiting out the fury of Mother Nature. It's a strange kind of camaraderie, born out of destruction, but it's real.

But it's not all chaos and danger. There are moments of pure, unadulterated fucking beauty here. Like the way the sun sets over the ocean, painting the world in shades of orange, pink and purple that you can only find in dreams. Seeing dolphins leap out of the water, playing in the wake of the boats, their sleek bodies in the sunlight. And the smell of the sea, salty and fresh, that fills my lungs and makes me feel like I’m where I belong.

So yeah, Florida might be crazy, it might be dangerous, but it's my crazy, my danger. It's the place where I feel most alive, where every day is a vacation. It is where I met the woman of my dreams, it’s where my son was born and It’s where I want to die. This is my fucking Florida and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.