Yo, is this blog post over a year late? Yes it is. Is it my fifth (or more) attempt at writing it, because it is (rather topically, this being the 1st of November 2014) CURSED, and every single other attempt at keeping a record of my life has mysteriously failed to save? Yes, it is that too, worse luck.
Let us see if this one works.
ANYWAY. To be briefer than normal, I woke up feeling rather sorry for myself, thanks to the Beers of the World, I mean, the unnatural heat and humidity of this fine October morning, which should by all rights be frosty and leafless. Being in Florida is strangely like being in Paradise, at least until you get home and the credit card bill rolls in, at which point it is horribly like being terribly broke in the real world. However, that return with a bump was still some hours off, and we spent the last of our holiday venturing into the Wilds, where people don’t wear big smiles when serving you coffee and ask if you’re enjoying it. Clearly I had become accustomed to the frightening, Stepford levels of solicitude from random strangers already, because the lack of it was also strange and alarming. Or maybe it was just the Paranoia After The Day Before. But it was not as strange and alarming as… going on a gigantic hairdryer around the Everglades!
(You thought I jested?) Turns out it is the most epic way to have your hangover blown straight out of your brain; massive handbrake turns and racing straight into huge banks of reeds, a spin out onto a lake so still and lovely that all the clouds were reflected around us, and of course, wild baby alligators, and all of it was awesome. Don’t I just wish I hadn’t put the photos somewhere safe on the hard drive, eh? Afterwards, we got to hold Fluffy the baby alligator, who was so soft and warm, aww; and after that, we drove straight off to put the car back where we found it and get on a plane home.
And thus followed a year-long hiatus of blogging, because of
laziness this curse.
Update: Bwahahaha, I found them. Here is a man playing Fluffy the alligator like some sort of French horn (fnar)
And here be the Everglades
And wild baby alligators (trust me, they are in here somewhere)
Ah yes, that’s right. His head is right over on the right hand side, halfway up, with a cunningly-placed sodding blade of grass wrecking the shot. C’est la vie…