Smells like summer. Hot, musky, the smell of alligator poo. There's a McDonalds across the street from my hotel, so the aroma of french fries and other tasty greasy treats masks it all. I went outside and was welcomed by the songs of locusts... or what I used to always think were locusts... some sort of orchestra of crickets that comes in siren like waves.
Its a lot different here than in my Hollywood. Everyone here is black. I could care less, but the two guys I'm working with, both pasty white Canadians, seem to have issues. One has a Confedrate flag tattoo on his arm, so he's afraid of taking his shirt of at the beach. The other guy says he's not racist, be he's noticed a lot of "niggers" around.
Something cool about being a minority, especially if you're as white bread as me. It means people notice you in a crowd, and are less apt to bump into you. It means that if someone wants your attention, they can say, "hey, whitey!", and you know who they're talking about - better than that vague, p.c. "hey you".
If you read my postings at the EoA blog, you'll see that I'm even more excited that I'm in the state that gave Bush the win in 2000.
More later with fresh new pics from a yard sale over the weekend, and oh, so much more.