Florida: Love it or Leave It!

by Anna Collins

I’m sick of people ranking on South Florida saying how bad it is to live here. I’m always hearing, “There’s not enough culture, the hurricanes are so bad, the taxes so high, and oh! The insurance! And it’s so hot!” I have a solution for all you sniveling, repetitive, spineless crybabies – there’s I-95! Head north and tell your story drivin’ chucklebutt.

It takes a special person to fully appreciate living here and real South Floridians are no candy ass group. And that does not mean you have to have been born here. Being a proud and grateful South Floridian is a state of mind and not necessarily a birth certificate.

We’ve survived Hurricane Katrina, Hurricane Wilma, and Jeb Bush but we persevere. You don’t go running away because everything isn’t perfect. This is South Florida – it’s beautiful and seductive – and there’s a certain risk and price you pay for seductive beauty – be it a woman or a state.
So, in line with all this Florida bashing, it seems a lot of people are making the big exodus to the Carolinas. North Carolina and South Carolina – if I hear that word “Carolina” one more time I’m gonna hurl Appalachian chunks.

I know people that are moving to Asheville, North Carolina. More like Assville. I’ve actually had people tell me, “Oh, you’d love it there!” No, I wouldn’t. Asheville is a big New Age Mecca. Like that’s a draw. People have said that as you drive by the mountains there’s a feeling of love and peace while other people have a feeling of extraterrestrials. You know what I say? The reefer in Miami is just as good if not better, except we know how to control our high and not act like dorks.

And another thing about the-oh-so-fabulous Carolinas - it gets cold there. Call me insane, but I have no desire to be sitting around in 30 degree weather singing Kumbaya to E.T.

Still they argue. “Oh but the houses in South Carolina are so cheap and the taxes are so low.” You know what I say? So what? You’re living in South Carolina! Did you forget that? What the hell is there? Is South Beach there? Biscayne Bay? Art Basel? A film festival every other week? Art Deco hotels? The Rusty Pelican? Are the Keys there? Coral Castle? Vizcaya? The Venetian Pool? Dezerland? All those crazy gay clubs with the excellent music? Bonnet House? Birch Park? Dogma? Dixie Pig? Morty’s? The Swimming Hall of Fame? Butterfly World? A Walgreen’s or CVS on every single freaking corner? No. You know what’s there? Horseshit, that’s what. It’s horse country. Which is fine if you’re an equestrian, but the biggest interest I’ve ever had in horses was eating like one during that certain time of month. The rest of the time, I need beaches, sidewalks where I can roller blade, and supermarkets with goofy names like Winn Dixie.

Winn Dixie. Where else can you live where the supermarkets keep thinking they’re going to win the Civil War? They try to trick you with that second “n”. And their motto? Home of the Beef People? I wonder what kind of experimenting they’re doing in the back with the Angus and humans that they have “Beef People”. Is the butcher going to walk out one day and go, “Hi, my name’s Chuck – Ground Chuck. This here’s m’wife Hamburger Patty, her big sister Rump Roast, and our gay cousin, Sir Loin.”

It’s so much fun here! Think about it – in Florida can you can watch a lizard run up your living room wall and think nothing of it. It’s like we’re living in a Stephen King novel. Visiting out-of-towners are shocked. “There’s a lizard crawling up your wall!” they shriek. “Don’t worry about it,” you say. “It’ll eat the bugs.”

The bugs? Oh, you mean those roaches on steroids? Whoa. They’re big. In fact, they’ve gotten so big, you can’t kill them any more – you have to make it look like an accident. I hear now they’re being auditioned for the WWF.

And they’re not just roaches, don’t be confused – they’re palmettos. There’s a difference. They’re roach royalty. They’re warrior roaches. They can kick the ass of those skinny little underfed New York roaches straight from Miami right back to the Big Apple. Hell, they’ll eat the apple. How’s that for a cultural exhibit?

And isn’t it great when you wake up the middle of the night and you go to the kitchen for a snack and turn on the light and BAM! There’s a palmetto right in the middle of your floor. Motionless. ‘Cause they think that’ll camouflage them. You wanna go: “Hey Sparky, I see you! You’re the size of a Buick. Now give me a ride to the fridge.” It gives you that warm fuzzy feeling, doesn’t it?

More Florida fun. How about that furniture store Badcock? Where else but South Florida would you have the balls, pardon the pun, to call a furniture store Badcock? I saw the couches through the window but I was afraid to go in. I thought everything would be a pullout. Their sign says “Badcock & More.” Does it get any better than this? As long as the definition of “bad” is the urban definition and the “and more” means multiple times – count me in. So to speak.

And let’s not forget the fabulous Early Bird dinners served daily in so many good restaurants, all at nearly half price. So what if you have to eat them 4:00 in the afternoon?

And then there’s all that complaining about people speaking Spanish. “Why don’t they speak English?” people say. It took me some getting used to when I moved here too – but then I thought, who really does speak English? Most of the people complaining about the other people not speaking English couldn’t conjugate a verb if it bite, bit, bitten them in the ass anyway. None of us really speak English. When’s the last time some guy came up to you and said, “Say old chap – care to join me for some bangers and mash? Perhaps afterwards we could trot over to the pub and both enjoy a nice fag over a pint.” Now that’s English.

If these Florida bashers don’t realize just how lucky they are to live in this wonderful paradise that people all over the world pay hundreds of thousand of dollar to come to visit for a few weeks or months each year – then I say good riddance. And don’t let the coconuts hit you in the ass on the way out.

And that’s the view from this broad.

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