Rambles in Shambles

Southern Hospitality, Humidity and Art of Staying Flawless

It's my last night in Orlando and I decided I would skip Cape Canaveral.  It isn't that I didn't want to go hang out at the Kennedy Space Center as I proudly wore a NASA tee, but I figured I would be returning anyway and there's no need to rush a good thing.  I've spent the last week learning about a misunderstood part of the country.  While I don't have any plans of leaving the Golden State any time soon, taking the trip to Central Florida was enlightening. Yes, there are several things I will never understand like the excessive amount of toll roads, speed limits that bring you to a crawl, and how the hell does makeup remain flawless?! 

I flew in on a Tuesday evening.  The layover in Dallas/Ft.Worth only cemented my feelings towards Texas and it only took an hour before I overheard a racist phrase uttered by a man who probably was bullied in high school.  I thought they were late, possibly falling asleep at the helm.  I couldn't get out of there fast enough.  Ted Cruz is an imbecile and I refused to eat anything at that airport.  

Upon my arrival, I was smacked with humidity. I was weary, but at the same time had enough energy to enjoy a beer and buffalo shrimp with my friend Mike before heading out into the swamplands of rural Central Florida.  I didn't want to leave, and he was perfectly fine with lending his time and playing tour guide.  I discovered Lake Eola and its sculptures.  There is art everywhere! I wasn't expecting this, then again what was expecting? My feet felt like they were going to disintegrate and I still needed to drive out west. I had to pull myself together and fast. 

Jesus tap dancing Christ Floridians drive slow!! The speed limit on the Florida turnpike peaks at 70. In California, that means I can go 80. I wasn't about to test the highway patrol in one of the most racist states of the Union. I was disappointed in myself for forgetting the aux cord and was at the mercy of whatever garbage permeated the airwaves.  Luckily, I found an R&B station. Mary J., Miss Janet, and Jodeci serenaded me, while I tried to stay awake sans coffee or sanity. The music was loud completely making Waze obsolete, drowning any sense of direction. 

The long flat roads in a pitch black background essentially tricked me into thinking I soon would be the victim of some mutant hitchhiker rising out of the swamplands. What the hell is Wawa?! Almost a week later, I would realize that Wawa could have saved my stomach from cannibalism. Although I am a firm proponent of distract free driving, I couldn't hit anything even if I wanted. Raccoons don't count. I begrudgingly turned the volume down in order to Skype my bestie. Her voice said it all. She had stayed up waiting in anticipated just to greet me. With the excitement of my visit, she was able to muster enough alertness to have a cheery disposition. I had already traveled through eight states just to be with her on her birthday. What's another 15 miles? 

"Happy Birthday my love!"