Florida Turnpike

The air licked my face with his wet tongue the second I stepped out of the airport.
Relief enveloped me as quickly as his sticky sweat on my skin. It is indeed hot in Florida.
I reluctantly coughed up the $93 that had somehow grown substantially from the $48 I’d been quoted yesterday, and walked over to my very own blue 2008 sebring convertible. What better way to experience true American culture than by cruising down the Florida Turnpike in the hot sun singing at the top of your lungs to rock and roll the blares shamelessly over the radio. And I didn’t hold back. When people drove by and slowed down, I sang louder, even danced. It was perfect. Even when it started raining. I just drove faster and the whole storm raged on above my naked head. Even when I got home and realized a comb will never fit through my hair again. Despite an entire night on a plane and in an airport preceding this adventure – I was nearly wishing my 7 hour road trip from Orlando to Pensacola to be longer. Now that I’m out of the persisting heat (at nearly 11pm) and into a lovely air conditioned room with a massive kind sized bed, the idea of sleeping diagonally to see if I can use up the entire bed is most appealing.
Tomorrow I pick up my cube van and head to New Orleans. I think first thing, though – the beach. The radio says there is a hurricane warning for the whole gulf of mexico. I better get down there before the party stops.