So this was a bit of a sad week, and not just because American Idol is back on the air again for yet another grueling season.  No, no – even far more tragic than thinking that anybody’s still going to watch that show without Simon, this week I experienced a little elimination round of my own, for this week I had to throw away my very first Christmas tree…

Well, the first Christmas tree that I bought here myself after moving to Florida seven years ago, anyways.  I’m pretty sure that my first first Christmas tree from 30 years ago is long gone by now, taken back by Mother Nature to decay into dirt and ground cover and nutrients for all sorts of other holiday trees and shrubberies.

That’s not nearly as likely to happen with this one though because, well frankly, it was fake and Mother Nature has very little use for metal and plastic in her great circle of life.  But still, it was a good tree while it lasted – easy to put together, not too big, and even easier to store away in a moderately sized box out in the garage between seasons.  A lot of Christmas tree purists out there complain that they can’t stand the sight of artificial trees, but unless they want to come over every two days to vacuum up needles and keep the thing watered on a regular basis, I think that artificial trees make for a marvelous holiday icon for the amount of effort involved!

Now what made this particular tree of mine unique was that instead of being your typical forest green in color as most trees artificial and actual tend to come, instead the one that I had picked out was in fact what I liked to refer to as an eye-catching snowy white, and although it did receive a small amount of criticism from those same purists who also apparently believe that Christmas trees should explicitly be green and only green, at the very least we could all agree that as a newly established resident here in the Sunshine State, it was the closest thing to a white Christmas that I was gonna get! Besides, it still decorated the same and Santa’s presents still fit underneath come Christmas morning just the same, so really, who am I to judge a tree by its color?

Well, maybe I shouldn’t say exactly that because in retrospect, I must admit that some seven years later I would’ve never expected that old Father Time would be so cruel to my beloved white Christmas tree over the years because it was in 2010 that I brought the box in from the garage and subsequently jumped back in horror to find that unless I had been recently dreaming of a yellow Christmas that particular year, my once beautiful, white tree was going to leave me quite disappointed and not nearly as merry and bright.  I mean, it was BAD, folks – kind of like a fresh, winter’s snow after the family dog has its way with it – and as much as I loved that old tree of mine, there was just no way that I could put that disgusting, yellow monstrosity up in our living room and actually admire it for the next month and a half!

Later that week we went out and bought a new tree that was decidedly not all old and musty and gross, and fortunately Christmas in the Sevener household went off without a hitch, but now that the holiday season is over and I’m finally remembering that I never actually got around to throwing the old tree away in the first place, the time has come to say goodbye to an old, admittedly dingy and dilapidated-looking friend who brought me many years of peace and love and of course, presents.  Old Whitey had a good run, and now I can only hope that in his newfound retirement he can continue to bring joy to others in some new way, like by not leaking harmful chemicals into the water table as he slowly decomposes at the city dump over the next couple of dozen years…

Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to close on a song that I put together in honor of my late Christmas tree – please feel free to sing along, as I think that you might recognize the verse.

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
How yellow are your branches?
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
Seriously, how did your branches get so yellow?!

You once were white like winter’s snow,
But now you’re gross, and you’ve got to go.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
How lovely were thy branches…

Some have said that I’m kind of a wuss when it comes to rollercoasters.

I can’t really deny this particular claim – if anything, I try to embrace it in an effort to avoid finding myself staring down the business end of a 90-degree vertical drop from 200 feet up in the air!  I mean, I can handle Disney coasters – anything with small to moderate drops where I’m greeted by singing animals at the bottom is fine, but none of this upside-down, loop-de-loop, plunging into the bowels of hell nonsense … feel free to just go on ahead without me and I’ll meet you later at the snow cone cart down the street once you’re done taunting the fates and all…

Of course, I don’t have to tell you that the weather around here lately hasn’t been much better than one of those crazy rollercoasters that I work so hard to avoid – one day it’s sunny and 75 degrees out, the next it’s plummeting down into the 40s and I’m scrambling for my winter jacket like it’s the only thing that can save me from the triple inverted loops over the completely harmless cheetah enclosure! Just when I flip the central air back over to AC and think that the worst is behind us, I’m pulling out blankets once again and looking for things to burn for warmth – all the while, my sinuses don’t know whether they’re coming or going!

And the thing is, I don’t really do well in cold weather. Sure, I may have been exposed to all sorts of horrible blizzard-like conditions when I lived up in Michigan, but not for nothing … that’s one of the reasons that I left! Being cold isn’t “fun” for me – I’m not one of these weirdoes who loves wearing snuggly sweaters and enjoying the crispness in the air. On the contrary, I prefer my air to be warm and inviting and particularly not frozen, which under normal conditions would be perfectly reasonable to expect from The Sunshine State of Florida.

Instead, though, right now we’ve got this topsy-turvy weather that just makes me want to curl up into a ball and wait for it all to be over … not unlike the last time my wife persuaded me to “go ride some real rollercoasters” with her at one of our other local theme parks that expressly doesn’t wish me a magical day when I come through the front gates!  It’s honestly a wonder that I manage to get any writing done at all during times like this – between the infrequent highs and the bone chilling, flu-beckoning lows, my creative process eventually pretty much just stops functioning altogether … presumably because my body thinks that there are more important survival tactics that I should be focusing on at that point than writing jokes about New Years Resolutions and the magical healing powers of HoneyBaked Ham!

Right now my only consolation is that if these crazy climate conditions continue to resemble the daunting loops and spins that yours truly ever so passionately loves to hate, then by my calculations we should be just about nearing the end of this frigid journey with sunshine and solid ground popping up over the horizon any minute now.  We’ve done the upside-down loop that cost me a lot of Kleenexes, but overall wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked, we’ve suffered through the mind-numbing corkscrew that plunged us into darkness and sub-freezing temperatures without a moment’s notice, and by now we’ve even endured the hair-raising death drop that left your narrator here laid up in bed for the better part of the New Years holiday weekend.  Any minute now … barring any ridiculous, last-minute theatrics, of course, this crazy train of ours should be coming to a complete stop and, once the floor boards have been replaced, we should all be free to remove the shoulder restraints and exit the ride area back to temperatures that are a little more “stable” and not nearly as “hypothermia-inducing,” to say the least.

Any minute now, the nightmares of this wicked winter gone mad should all be behind us, and it’ll be sunshine and unicorns from here on out … I promise!

Well, that is until hurricane season starts up in a few months, anyways…

They say that over 1,000 people move here to the great state of Florida every single day, and really, who could blame them?!  Sun, fun, and a distinct lack of devices designed specifically for the moving of snow from one place to another … trust me, once you’ve spent 15 hours a week dedicated purely to just moving snow out of your way, the arguments against relocating to a state that instead has the word “sunshine” built right into the official slogan tend to become few and far between…

I should know – it was just about seven years ago that I made that very same transition from winter wonderland to heat wave heaven myself and really, despite those random sleepless nights when I just yearn for snowplows and my favorite shovel, I wouldn’t have it any other way!

Of course, I suppose if there was but one problem to be highlighted when we talk about the notion of moving south to a state with far fewer snow-related anythings, it’s simply that nobody ever tells us northern transplants really what to expect when we get here from our frozen tundra counterparts where snowmen and polar bears and winter jackets are commonplace!  There’s no book to read, or even just a pamphlet to flip through while enjoying your complimentary glass of orange juice on your way past the welcome center once you enter the Sunshine State – nothing to tell you which sides of the street the elderly drive their golf carts on (hint: all of them), or which seasons to expect the largest influx of tourists (again: all of them), or even simply that alligators do, in fact, live in places other than the Everglades!

Nope, instead us newbies are simply expected to just figure it out for ourselves, just like our predecessors did before us, and theirs before them, which might work in some cases – I mean, sure, giant lizards munching on your rhododendrons might be a bit of a surprise the first time around, but if you ask me, a little unexpected gator with your morning paper is nothing compared to an even more vicious predator that also happens to be native to our State of Florida as well.  Frankly, now that I stop and think about it, I’m not even entirely sure that anything could help to prepare a Florida newcomer to the dangers that stem from these vile, blood-thirsty savages, but in reality, I suppose that anything to raise general awareness helps when we’re talking about the wildly aggressive, trained killer that is … the Florida Telemarketer, or Obnoxious Scam-Artius.

Preying on unsuspecting, new residents to the Sunshine State by tricking them into thinking that they’ve instantly won free cruises or amazing timeshare opportunities that they simply won’t find anywhere else, these slimy scavengers feed off of a gullibility that is actually quite common in those who have recently packed up their lives and made such a pilgrimage in search of a warmer climate.  Armed with the suggestion that one really can get something for nothing, they pounce on the exhausted and offer bargains that would in practice put cruise lines and timeshares out of business, if not for all of the hidden fees and vacation surcharges that lurk within the depths of the fine print, that is…

It was but only a couple of weeks ago that I found something in the mail that served as a pleasant reminder of the first, and thankfully only time that I, myself, got sucked into the hype by these relentless profiteers shortly after I moved to Florida back in 2003.  It had all started with finding an exciting message on my answering machine about winning a free cruise to The Bahamas, and eventually ended with the disappointed realization that $400 in “fees” was just a tad bit “expensive” for what the fine folks at Cheap Ass Travel Unlimited were calling a “free cruise!” Luckily, I think I only got about $75 into the “deposits” before the something fishy’s going on here-alarm went off and I stopped returning the extraordinarily urgent phone calls left by my official Cheap Ass Travel Agent asking that I pay off my remaining “fees” and “secure my free vacation today.” Eventually, the calls stopped and I was left to mourn the loss of my $75 in peace, but if anything, at least a lesson was learned from that experience.

On the upside, it was after that vacation-related scamming I knew that I had officially became a bona fide Florida resident … well, it was either then or that day when I had to wrestle a gator out of the only free parking space left at my apartment complex – both were pretty memorable in my book, although whereas I still like to consider myself on speaking terms with that alligator, I’m not so sure that I’d say the same for Craig V. with Cheap Ass Travel.  But despite my finally catching on to his shenanigans $75 into the scam, clearly good, old Cheap Ass is still doing ok with roping in the unsuspecting or I wouldn’t have received another fantastic offer in my mailbox just last week…

The thing is this, folks – while we may never be able to stand up against giant lizards or even the elderly in all of their 15mph glory, we can band together to put a stop to telemarketing scams right here and now by discouraging gullibility amongst our friends and family, especially if they’ve got Jimmy Buffett on the brain and have been talking about heading on down south on a permanent basis.  Seriously, feel free to just smack them right upside the head if that’s what it takes – for the amount that you’ll eventually save them in port fees and docking surcharges and cruising taxes, they’ll be thanking you when their vision finally returns to normal!

Remember, friends don’t let friends think that they’re getting 4-days and 3-nights in The Bahamas for free…

In fact, it’s so muggy that…

…so muggy that…

…so muggy that I’m just plain physically exhausted trying to come up with a sufficiently dreadful way to describe it.

Really, if it was my call, at this point I’d just throw in the towel and send everyone home to crank up the air conditioning and spend the summer sprawled out in front of Old Mother Television with a bucket of ice cream in one hand and a Piña Colada in the other!  Of course, as a result half the businesses in Florida would probably go bankrupt and by next summer none of us would be able to afford to run our ACs full-tilt whilst simultaneously up to our necks in ice cream and booze, but hey, drastic quantities of water vapor in the air call for drastic measures…

I mean, don’t get me wrong – I absolutely love living in Florida, as opposed to other mitten-shaped states which shall remain nameless in all of their snow-covered gloom!  There’s no denying that living a shovel-free existence for the last seven years has played an primary role in my overall happiness as a person, and you probably couldn’t get me to move back to a region where the phrase “I need to go clear the driveway…” is commonplace for all the tea in China … and if you had any idea just how much my wife loves tea, you’d know how many brownie points that would be worth around my house!

To summarize – snow sucks, folks … I don’t think I can stress that enough here!

Still, as the prolific they have been known to say, every region has its crappy weather and while we may not have mountains of ice and snow up to our knickers down here in the Sunshine State, instead we do happen to have a rather significant abundance of heat and water, and when you mix copious amounts of each together into a humidity stew of sorts, it’s really only a matter of time before that kettle done runneth over and when it does, my friends, that’s what’s known here in Florida as the first day of Summer. Pets gasp when you first take them outside to pee, old people gasp even though you let them stay inside when they pee, and in general any trip out of doors feels like you’re being hit dead-on by a freight train traveling through a monsoon with its windows down…

It’s a horrible time of year to be a Floridian, really, which is why if you happen to travel down in this direction during any of those traditional summer months like June through August, you won’t see a single Florida resident actually outside during your entire stay because, well, by now most of us tend to know better! You may see the occasional blurry figure zip through the parking lot or even occasionally extend a single finger through the doorway to test the day’s muggy as hell quotient, but as for actual activities outside like jogging or perhaps a leisurely evening game of croquet?

Nope.

No way.

Not gonna happen!

Of course, for any crazy tourists who may have made non-refundable travel arrangements or are possibly even already here at the heart of our muggy mayhem as we speak, don’t worry – I’ve got a few tips to help you beat the heat and slugg the mugg(-iness) so that at least you have a better chance of surviving to book during a slightly less apocalyptic season sometime in the distant future…

• Find a nice spot at the beach or in a swimming pool and make it your own.  No, literally bring some snacks and a comfy pillow, and don’t budge for anybody because until it’s time to fly back to Idaho or whatever spudly state that you call home, you’re not going anywhere.
• Learn to breathe underwater.  This is crucial because go figure, the one place where the mugginess can’t get you is underwater, so it’s going to be a real pain if you have to keep coming up for air every forty-five seconds.
  • I was just recently told of these doodads called snorkels, so if the whole developing gills thing is proving to be a challenge, this might be another option to consider.  Twelve bucks at Walmart, on-sale this week only…
• Take some time to reflect on your summertime vacation options for the future.  If for some reason you still believe that Florida has a place in that list, hold your head under the water for just a few seconds extra between breaths – your brain deserves the punishment for that kind of crazy, irrational thinking!

But above all else, know deep within your heart that someday you will return to the Sunshine State for another break from reality, and when you do, next time you’ll be smart enough to pick a season when your sunglasses don’t fog up the moment you step outdoors!  Just think, without all of this unyielding, life-sucking humidity to weigh you down, you’ll be able to go to Disney World and experience temperatures below 90 degrees without it coincidentally also being three o’clock in the morning; you’ll be able to partake in vigorous games of beach volleyball and not have to worry about heatstroke overcoming your entire body like the weight of a thousand suns at every volley; and if that’s not enough, you’ll even have the unique opportunity to tour the majestic Florida Everglades without worrying about the muggy madness taking you over that point where you actually start to wonder, “What if it is cooler inside of an alligator’s mouth than it is out here???  They are cold-blooded, after all…”

Really, the sky’s the limit when you visit Florida in not the summer, so book your travel plans for a humidity-free vacation in the spring, winter, or fall today!

So Tuesday officially marked the beginning of June, and thus also welcomed us into the beginning of Hurricane Season here in the Sunshine State.  The NOAA is predicting that 2010 will see an “above normal” level of hurricane activity with conditions that resemble some “very active” seasons from years past.

Upon hearing this news, the average Floridian replied, “Meh…” and will do precisely nothing to prepare for our potentially imminent destruction…

And don’t be deceived – hurricanes are bad! Think like the movie Twister, but also with lots of water, and alligators replacing the cows that were sent flying through the air like Frisbees … sorry, Tornado Belt folks, but when push comes to shove, getting hit in the face with a giant reptilian beast with even more gigantic teeth trumps getting hit in the face with your average dairy cow any day of the week!  I think even the cow would agree with that particular allegation…

Nonetheless, I guess it’s not that we don’t care … well, ok – for some of us that’s exactly what it is … but I think for the majority it’s just that we don’t care in any resemblance of a preparatory fashion. Call it a result of overly embracing our laid-back, beachfront lifestyle, or maybe just eight too many margaritas, but unless those 120mph winds are literally knocking on our front door (while floodwaters are simultaneously slipping in underneath), somehow the threat of having to kayak down the block just seems too farfetched to be worth the hassle of actually getting up and going to the store.

Then again, not for nothing, but it is really hot here in Florida in the summertime!  I mean, seriously – who wants to go lugging around cases of water and extra sandbags when it’s 95 degrees in the shade outside?!  Forget that…

Of course, unfortunately the end result of our storm-surge-oriented apathy here is that when it does come time to batten down the hatches and ensure the survival of our wee suburban communities, it’s damn near impossible to buy little more than an empty water jug and some stray Pop-Tart crumbs because at this point we’ve been succinctly beaten to the punch by a quaint, little group of paranoid residents that I like to refer to as The Overly Prepared. You’ve probably seen them around – these are the same folks who put blankets over their bushes and spend their afternoons enforcing the local HOA guidelines, and whereas the rest of us would be satisfied with a case or two of water and a few canned goods out in the garage, these folks won’t rest until they’ve got enough reserves stored up in their hurricane bunker to refill the swimming pool from scratch and rebuild city hall entirely out of tin cans!

In this particular setting, you’ll see them as you come walking out of the store empty-handed, each member of the family pushing a separate shopping cart brimming with cases of water and canned goods as if they’re stocking up the Great Pyramid, the only comic relief left being in watching them try to fit several hundred gallons of water into the family minivan.  “I’ll come back for you and the kids later, honey!” Dad’s anxiety announces as he finishes loading the precious cargo into each and every passenger seat before slowly puttering out of the parking lot in the severely overweighed suburban transport.

By now it should be pretty obvious what you need to do, though – just find out where these people live and move next door to them! If you hurry, Dad should be pretty easy to tail by the sparks emitting from his back bumper scraping the ground, and sure, they might be a little obnoxious the rest of the year, but hey, hurricane season is technically six months long, so in my book not having to be on watch half the year is well worth the random lawn care critiques and awkward dinner parties.  And no need to worry about mooching – trust me, at this point with that many kids, your taking a few cases of water off his hands in your time of need is the least of his worries, so no need to feel guilty about it!

Besides, it’s either my plan or you actually have to get up from the couch and go buy all of that crap yourself in this heat!  You do realize that a single gallon of water weighs eight pounds, right?

Yeah, that’s what I thought…

With apologies to Pete Townsend and The Who…

Whew – is everybody still with us?!

Boy, has it been a rough couple of weeks around this place … I don’t know about you, but that cold was just about more than I could bear!  I mean, people move to Florida to get away from the freezing cold, and yet we just spent the better part of the last three weeks fighting off Frosty and his fiendishly freezing foes like our lives depended on it … because for people who don’t actually own coats, they did depend on it!

Fortunately it seems that global warming is finally back on our side once again and those frantic flurries are long gone in favor of temperatures more befitting of the white, sandy beaches and coconut-flavored drinks that make our state a fine place to visit and an even better place to live.  But as much as we’re all certainly basking in the warmth that had temporarily forgotten us, know that us Floridians are still feeling a world of hurt from those seemingly endless days of frost-covered windshields and blanket-laden shrubberies, and if there’s one thing that we learned from this mind (and body!)-numbing experience, it’s that frankly put – we can never allow such a frigid travesty to happen ever again.

We can’t go back, we won’t go back, and I think I speak for everyone from the Sunshine State when I say that we’re willing to do anything, and I mean anything to ensure that we never feel the unrelenting wrath of Old Man Winter and his abominable ice capades ever again!  Of course, as you would imagine, it will take a grand scheme of epic proportions to feign back such evil forces in all of their nippy nastiness, but as luck would have it one good thing that did come out of my recently being sick was that I found myself laid up with plenty of time to think about this exact issue.

Here are a few of the ideas that I’ve been kicking around so far:

• Strategically-located space heaters.
• Giant blankets, arranged over our cities and towns in an impressive, fort-like manner.  May also use giant couch cushions, as available.
• No more visitors from “up north” who always seem to “bring it with them” when they “come to visit.”
• Maybe I’m still a bit calorically hung over from Christmas, but is it just me or does the house always seem warmer while you’re baking cookies?  The mandatory baking of delicious treats every Saturday afternoon – I mean, who wouldn’t get behind that?!
• More hugging.  Well … nah, that one might get a bit awkward…
• Build a large campfire somewhere in the vicinity of Central Florida – nothing warms the body after a long day like some s’mores shared amongst friends.
• A state-sponsored, mass hibernation program – basically, the entire state of Florida just shuts down if the temperature drops below 45 degrees Fahrenheit.

Got a better idea?  Let’s hear it, folks, because time is of the essence and that jerk Winter could be back any second!  Preparations must be made; tropically-oriented lifestyles must be secured.  We can’t handle temperatures like that again, but with the right brilliant idea, we won’t have to.

Remember, we’re willing to do anything…

Folks, I don’t want to sound like a buzz kill here, but nonetheless I feel the distinct need to clear something up.  Specifically – it’s November here in Florida.

You know the month – smack dab right there on your calendar between Garfield Trick or Treating for Lasagna and Odie Dressed Up as a Reindeer.  It’s a 30-day period traditionally known for turkeys and Thanksgiving and eventually also transcending the seasons from autumn into winter.  Most important of all, though, is the simple point that the month of November is not in what you would consider “the summer” … also known around these parts as The Season of Air Conditioner Appreciation.  I know that Florida tends to get stereotyped as the state that doesn’t experience actual “seasons,” but that’s simply not true.  Our seasons may be significantly less dramatic than those experienced around the rest of the country – i.e. we’ve never had to “get up early to go shovel out the car” … thank god!  But we do still see colder weather towards the end of the year and there are several days when we even have to dig out *gasp* long sleeve shirts!

All gloating aside, however, the real reason that I wanted to bring all of this up is because this ugly “no seasons” stereotype carries right over to a very time-honored tradition here in Florida that when not thought through can lead to devastating, often times shriveling results.  That activity, of course, is swimming.

You see, people don’t realize it because the Florida that they see on TV and in the movies uses those fancy special effects and digital editing these days, but believe it or not, there comes a time here even in the Sunshine State where the water, simply put, is f-ing freezing! Sure, it may not have icebergs in it or be frozen over like bodies of water in some northern states that shall remain nameless, but still, if you think that you’re coming to our state to simply “hang out at the pool” between, oh say, late September and March, you’re either a polar bear or at the very least in for quite the rude awakening!

Also shrinkage, guys – think about it.

“I know, I know…” you hear me say sympathetically.  “It’s just not fair.  It’s still 70 degrees out – that’s warm, right?!” But we both know that water temperature and air temperature are two different things … well, *I* know that, anyways.  And if you’d like to test this theory of yours out by dipping the twins into the shivery 60 degree depths, by all means be my guest!  Just don’t come crying to me when you’re resembling raisins in all the wrong areas, wondering why you can’t have kids while also asking me to autograph my latest book for your nephew, even though we both know that it’s really for your wife to make up for ruining her favorite blouse in the washing machine with that black pen you forgot to take out of your pants pocket.

Besides, there are still lots of great things that one can do here in Florida during the cooler months that don’t involve losing one’s toes, genitals, and other appendages in no particular order to an icy grave.  For example, you could find somebody who has a heated pool or spend your hard-earned dollars at one of our many fabulous theme parks, many of which have plenty of twisty-turny roller coasters that will jostle your insides to the point where swimming will be the last item on your agenda for the immediate future.  Or even better yet, you could always just do what us locals do during this time of year – be thankful that it isn’t hurricane season – that always helps to warm my bones after a cold and blustery day!

Just remember that unlike many of life’s other challenges, this is one that copious quantities of beer cannot solve and if you think waking up next to someone whose name you can’t remember is bad enough, imagine that they don’t have any toes because they thought that every droplet of water within the boundaries of Florida was like bathwater all the time! The truth is, that doesn’t actually apply until mid-March, which is coincidentally right around spring break, so until then you’re still welcome to come and visit, but you might want to bring a book.

…either that or just stay where you are and enjoy all of that shoveling – it’s really your call!

I’ve written about this a time or two before, but we’re going to go over everything again this week one more time because frankly I’m not quite sure everyone took seriously enough my warnings of the danger that lurks just beyond the woodland’s edge in the thick of the night here in Florida, when darkness provides the perfect cover for all things creepy and crawly to roam the land in search of their next victims.  I’m not joking around here, folks – if you only read one column about mutant, killer cockroaches this summer, god help your soul, let it be this one…

Now don’t get me wrong – the Sunshine State is a wonderful place to live and work and even visit to come spend your hard-earned tourism dollars from time to time, but you’re fooling yourselves if you think that it’s all white, sandy beaches and talking mice down here.  No, there’s another side to Florida that doesn’t usually make it into the relocation guides and travel brochures – a side that only comes out at night, if you know what I’m saying.  And if you think that sounds somewhat creepy, well, then at least we’re all on the same page finally.

You see, what a lot of people fail to realize when they envision our picturesque state is that low and behold, it’s actually made up almost entirely of swampland. Sure, we’ve managed to build all sorts of neat theme parks and fancy houses on top of said swampland, but it’s still down there … and worse yet, there’s still all sorts of creepy, crawly stuff living in it, too.  Mind you, most folks don’t even think about it because they’re so caught up with the beautiful weather and the plethora of tourist attractions and the driving around in their convertible automobiles, but nonetheless just out of sight, out of mind swarms a horde of spiders and snakes and beetles and the occasional gigantic lizard with an uncanny resemblance towards prehistoric creatures gone past.  And they’re hungry…

Still don’t believe me?  Well, the next time, oh say, seven o’clock in the evening rolls around, just put down your Mai Tai down for a second and take a brief walk “outdoors” – you’ll know you’re there when the artificial lighting fades and you can’t help but feel like there are things moving around you.  That buzzing that just brushed the side of your leg; that rustling sound coming from the neighbor’s hedges – that’s what I’m talking about, people!  You may not be able to see ‘em, but there are things out there – big things, little things, and even things that seem like they shouldn’t be that big of a deal because they’re very little, but in fact are even more scary that several of the big things combined.

These things have lived in the fair state of Florida longer than we have … yes, even longer than our crop of retired folks … and needless to say, it’s a somber moment for us all when it becomes painfully apparent that not everything that lives in the swamp knows how to play a banjo and spends its time sitting around with friends of bear and swine and whatever, singing songs about rainbows and the liking.  As they say, reality can be a harsh mistress…

“So what can we do about all of these things?” you ask.

Well, certainly nobody likes being eaten, or worse, and thus there must be something that we can do to protect ourselves from all of the reckless carnage happening out there in the animal kingdom right beyond the glow of our porch lights and imitation tiki torches.  Fortunately, I do have one solution, and although I can tell that right off the bat, some of you probably aren’t going to love it, just tell me … how much do you love getting your foot bitten off by an alligator or being swarmed from head to toe in vicious fire ants or, at the very least, finding yourself assaulted and verbally degraded by a pack of roving armadillos???

You don’t love the sound of any of those things at all, you say?

Alright, so here’s the plan, and it’s only a one-parter, so I’m fairly confident that everyone should be able to keep up.  If you need to get a piece of paper and something to write it down, go ahead – the rest of us can wait because seriously, we cannot afford for anyone to screw this up at this point.

Ready now?

Ok, it goes something like this – DON’T GO OUTSIDE WHEN IT’S NIGHTTIME HERE IN FLORIDA DURING THE SUMMER.

Again, those keywords:

• Don’t
• Outside
• Nighttime
• Florida
• Summer

And you don’t have to tell me – I know – it sounds like a hair-brained, ultra-paranoid reaction, but all in the same, folks … really, how many more people need to be terrorized by creepy things around here before we finally stand up and say, “We’re not gonna take this anymore!  If anybody needs us, we’ll be in the house!” Besides, it’s not like I’m saying that people can never go outside again … I’m just suggesting that we all wait until those cooler months when the consumption period has died down a bit and all of those things tend to spend more time sleeping than stalking the human race, that’s all.

Now I know that this is going to be a tough thing for some of you to get used to, but I’m here to tell you this – after this column, you’re on your own! I mean, I’m all about trying to look out for my fellow man and help them from becoming just another devoured Floridian statistic, but like I said when we first started this column … we’ve been over this a couple of times before. There’s only so much I can do to spend this infinite wisdom to the masses, and you pretty much just read it, so from here on out, if anybody needs me, I think by now you’ve figured out where you won’t find me!

Let’s play a game, folks!  It’s just a little something I’ve cooked up in my spare time lately called Things You Never Want to Hear in Florida … in July, and it goes a little something like this: simply choose from the following what you think would be the worst possible thing to hear mid-summer here in the Sunshine State of Florida…

a)      ”The AC’s not working.”
b)      “We’re all out of rum.”
c)      “There’s an alligator at the front door and he looks pissed.”

If you answered A – “The AC’s not working,” you win the prize, which coincidentally is this nice box fan from Wal-Mart that sure would’ve been nice at my house a couple of days ago when tragedy struck our quaint, Floridian household here in the dead of summer!  As for those of you who opted for pina coladas or giant lizards as your answers … well, despite the stereotypes or your apparent alcoholism, let it be known that either one of those things on their own don’t even stack close to the idea of Florida living, au natural.

Maybe both of them put together might come a little closer because hey, when the Bacardi doth runneth dry, opening the door to see if the lizard on the other side came bearing fruity coconut and pineapple-flavored refills may very well sound entirely reasonable, but of course, that’s an entirely different column altogether…

But regardless, by far the worst is still having the air conditioning just mysteriously die without warning, and if it happens after business hours like mine so conveniently did recently, then all the better!  Really, there’s nothing quite like coming home at about eleven o’clock at night after a long and grueling day, only to find that it’s rapidly approaching 85 degrees inside your humble abode … and it’s still warmer outside than it is inside … and there’s no breeze outside whatsoever, even if opening up windows was a minute possibility.  If there was ever a time to call in a favor from that friendly, neighborhood repair guy whose fence you had recently helped paint, now would’ve been a wonderful time to call in said favor!

Unfortunately, though, I have no such recently painted neighbor, and even if I did, chances are *I* wouldn’t have been the first one out the door on a blisteringly hot Sunday afternoon to help him save a few bucks by painting it himself!  Remember, with the Florida heat and all?! So there I, my better half already sweaty and less than thrilled because she’d gotten home several hours prior and was clearly done with this whole no AC conundrum – the two of us destined to bear the brunt of this lack of proper household cooling for at least the next twelve hours or so, all depending – of course, on just how available the repair guy would be to come relieve us the next morning.

And the trouble is that really when you think about it, there’s not a whole lot you can do when such a disaster strikes and you find yourself sweating to the oldies, minus the spandex and a creepy Richard Simmons frolicking around on TV.  Sure, you could spend the night eating popsicles with the refrigerator door propped open, or maybe just make the best of it by falling asleep in the tub, but either is going to leave you in pretty rough shape the following morning … assuming you can actually get out of the bathtub after what I can only imagine would be one of the worst sleeping positions ever!  Nonetheless, my wife and I finally opted to endure the old-fashioned way – by opening all of the windows, turning the ceiling fan in our bedroom up to blow everything that isn’t bolted down around the room in a frenzy, and simply hope for the best.

A matter of hours later, as the sun came peeking up from behind the trees, with songbirds chirping all about, we awoke, knowing that the worst had passed.  Well, there were papers strewn in every corner of our bedroom, it was still scathingly hot, and at one point throughout the night I could’ve swore I heard a wild animal of some sort clawing at the window, but other than that, we were good to go!  Now thoroughly drenched in sweat, we waited for the repair guy to come and lend us his services, which would promptly return us to the land of the civilized.

Twelve hours, folks!  That’s how long I went without air conditioning one hot and sweaty night in July of the year 2009, and frankly, those were probably the twelve worst hours that I’ve had since I moved to Florida over five years ago.  The human body just isn’t designed to endure non-conditioned air, much less temperatures with the digits 8 and 9 in them!  It’s something that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemies … well, maybe that one guy, but that’s what you get for cutting in front of me in line for It’s a Small World. No remorse!

So the moral of our story today, simply put, is this – if you live in Florida, don’t ever put yourself in a situation where you could possibly be without air conditioning for more than, oh say, four and a half minutes, max. Buy a second backup air conditioner, make a copy of your neighbor’s keys the next time they’re out of town, or even – dare I suggest it – actually help your friendly neighborhood repairman paint his fence one weekend, if for no other reason than so you can call him in the middle of the night should such an occasion as this arise in the future!  If he doesn’t have a fence, build one for him – trust me, three weeks of digging post holes and hammering boards will be time well spent if it might help you avoid spending seven or eight hours sleeping in a pool of your own sweat.  Whatever it takes, really…

Don’t let your household become just another sweaty, broken air conditioner-related statistic.

Can a brother spare a gallon? A cup? Maybe even just a tablespoon?! Because frankly, my lawn will take just about anything you can give it at this point!

I don’t know if the rest of the universe has heard, or even if you guys care for that matter, but here in Florida we’re experiencing a bit of a water shortage right now … which I know is more than a little ironic, seeing as how the Sunshine State is surrounded on three sides by water and our main tourist attraction outside of Mickey Mouse Land is the freaking beach, but alas, it seems that there’s not much that we can do with such copious amounts of salt water other than frolic around in a carefree manner in its presence, and although that actually sounds pretty good right about now, no quantity of wet and wild, bikini-clad ladies is going to help make my grass turn green again.

…sorry, ladies…

So needless to say, we’re in just a little bit of a panic down here, or at least our fearless leaders are as they attempt to conserve water by any means necessary. Of course, watering lawns and washing cars were obviously the first to go, along with turning off those cool, ornamental fountains that gurgle water so prestigiously on promenades throughout the city. We’ve even heard hair-brained ideas as bad as attempting to restrict restaurants from openly handing out glasses of ice water to patrons unless they specifically request it, and even then I think it’s only supposed to be considered “on loan.”

Don’t ask how the whole “return policy” works … let’s just say that people start to get a little desperate when the swimming pools runneth dry around these parts!

I guess the funniest part of the whole situation is that while here in April, we’re clamoring for water like our frozen Margaritas depend on it and the fate of the backyard barbecue as we know it is at stake, check back with us in about a month and a half when we’re entering into the “stupid rainy season” where everyday is a banner day for the umbrella salesmen of the Sunshine State and no doubt we’ll be singing a very different tune. You know, when “What do you mean I can’t even wash my car?!” becomes “Ahhh, screw it – let the rain take care of it…” and errands that don’t get ran by 3:00pm are gonna have to wait until later for fear of melting … but hey, it still beats getting blown away by a hurricane…

Of course, in the meantime until that liquid gold begins thundering down from the heavens with a vengence once again, life here in the Sunshine State of Florida … the floppy-hat-wearing tourism capital of the world, home to former heavyweight champion Hollywood Hulk Hogan, and the proud host of 14 Olive Garden restaurants (featuring the never-ending pasta bowl), is going to be a little different from that carefree, aquatic-loving lifestyle to which we’ve become accustomed. We’re all going to have to make some sacrifices along the way, whether it be by learning to enjoy wading in the family pool as opposed to actually swimming in it, by sneaking into the bathroom and turning off the faucet while other people are brushing their teeth (just in case they didn’t learn that conservatory gem back in kindergarten), or even by simply ordering that next fruity, umbrella-laden drink without ice – remember, every little bit helps!

I, for one, have been doing my best to help do my part my by continuing to be too lazy to care about washing my car until this dry spell is over. Mind you, I tried going even above and beyond to call of duty by also being too lazy to care about doing the dishes, the laundry, and pretty much anything else that required getting up from my comfy location smack dab in the middle of the couch, but in retrospect that ended up just creating a whole new mess of problems to boot…

But never fear, my fellow Floridians, for we will drudge through this depressing drought, we will come together as a state and rebuild our region’s water reserves, and with the hard work and dedicated conservation efforts of each and every one of us, eventually we will all be able to shower again some day!

What’s that, you say? It’s not that bad of a drought?!

Good to know…