Ok, Loopers, next stop, Florida, that dangling chad of a state, where the sun shines so bright you half expect to see Jesus himself waterskiing across Tampa Bay! Now Ronnie has some personal experience with the sunshine state. There was that six week high-tech bootcamp in Daytona. There was that corporate convention/retreat in Orlando, and Ronnie also has friends living in various Florida locations, Ft. Myers, Miami, and some little town in the panhandle. That’s right, Ronnie is uniquely situated for van life. He doesn’t have to hunker down for the winter or desperately scrounge for shade in the summer because he has friends and family from Washington State to Florida… and speaking of…

THE GOOD: Florida, where the manatees are loose, and so are the tourists. And beaches? Oh, they got beaches, miles and miles of ’em, the kind of white sand beaches that make you wanna ditch your shoes and do the Macarena, even if you don’t know how. Springs bubbling up from the earth like some kind of primordial jacuzzi, clear as gin and twice as refreshing. Everglades? Yep, got those too, a swampy wonderland where alligators lounge like they own the place (and they probably do). Wildlife galore, from pink flamingos strutting like they’re on a catwalk to manatees cruising along like underwater blimps.

And the weather? Forget about it. It’s like Mother Nature cranked the thermostat to “eternal summer” and then lost the remote. No state income tax either, which means more clams for your pocket and more margaritas in your belly. Theme parks? They practically invented the things. Disney World, Universal Studios, places where dreams come true (or at least your credit card takes a serious hit). Toss in some cultural diversity, a dash of history, and a sprinkle of those warm mineral springs in North Port, and you got yourself a cocktail of a state. Oh, and don’t forget the colleges, little intellectual oases scattered across the landscape like so many palm trees.

THE BAD: But hey, even paradise has its downsides. Like hurricanes, for instance. Those swirling cyclones of doom that can turn your beachfront condo into a pile of matchsticks faster than you can say “Margaritaville.” Then there’s the humidity. The kind of humidity that makes your hair frizz up like you stuck your finger in a light socket and your clothes cling to you like a lovesick octopus. And let’s not forget the environmental concerns, the creeping threat of rising sea levels, the pollution, the constant battle to preserve what’s left of this fragile ecosystem. It’s enough to make you wanna trade your flip-flops for a pair of waders and join the Sierra Club.

THE UGLY: Now, brace yourselves, folks, because it’s about to get real. Traffic. Congestion. Gridlock. Call it what you want, but it’s the kind of automotive apocalypse that makes you wish you’d invested in a helicopter. Cars piled up like a demolition derby, horns blaring, tempers flaring. It’s enough to make you want to abandon your vehicle and join a colony of hermits living in the Everglades. And then there’s the high cost of living. Rent, mortgages, groceries, it all adds up faster than a politician’s promise. Suddenly, that dream of owning a beachfront bungalow starts to look about as realistic as a unicorn riding a rollercoaster.

WHO’s WHO? Florida, land of sunshine and eccentrics. Hemingway, the literary lion, holding court in Key West with a daiquiri in one hand and a marlin tale in the other. Marjory Stoneman Douglas, the environmental crusader, fighting to protect the Everglades with the ferocity of a mama bear defending her cubs. Literary seminars in Key West, where wordsmiths gather to dissect prose and pontificate on the meaning of life. And the music scene, a veritable melting pot of sounds. Lynyrd Skynyrd, belting out Southern rock anthems that make you wanna raise your fist and chug a beer. Tom Petty, spinning tales of heartbreak and highway dreams. Creed, with their angst-ridden grunge, and Yellowcard, adding a punk rock twist. Jim Morrison, the Lizard King himself, leaving a trail of poetic chaos in his wake. Ariana Grande, the pop princess with a voice that could melt glaciers. And Zora Neale Hurston, weaving her literary magic with words that paint a vivid picture of Florida’s soul.

So there you have it, loopers. Florida, in all its glory and its grit. A state of contrasts, a land of extremes. Case in point, the apparent grip Christion Fundamentalists have on the state’s politics. At the same time, voters enthusiastically embrace morally ambiguous leaders such as Matt Gaetz and Donald Trump. Cognitive dissonance at its finest. Anyway, love it or hate it, you can’t deny Florida is one hell of a wild ride.

Onward through the fog… RH

From Saint Auggy……
To Tallahassee…
You’ll see the fire ants..
Prolificacy…
And like the bears in…
Yellowstone grassy…
Don’t look FL Man in the eye.