FU Suffers Existential Crisis, Drinks with Old People

This past week has been an existential cyclone for FU. Coming to Florida in March one is hit with two modes of life that are polar opposites: spring breakers going wild, and the walking dead. The former are enjoying youth in all its carefree vibrancy, the latter are driving Cadillacs at 20 miles per hour whether they're in a parking lot or on a highway. And then there is FU, travelling the lonesome highway in between.

I am sorry if that sounded incredibly melodramatic. I'm trying to post while watching the tournament games and I am finding it incredibly difficult to stay focused. After only 8 games I think I am in last place in both pools I've entered without a hope of coming back, so I am finding myself questioning life. This shouldn't surprise people as I have had similarly bizarre tangents spurred by nothing more than chicken salad.

But Florida is somewhat of an alternate universe to an outsider. I was in the grocery store with my dad the other day and I was a full head taller than everyone else in the store. That afforded me an excellent view of the parking lot of grocery carts that consumed every aisle. Nobody moved with any semblance of having to be anywhere else. I think some people actually stopped and took naps standing up while shopping for peas.

When we finally got back to the house we were graced with a visit by my parents' neighbor who, at 2:00 in the afternoon on a Monday, was sloshed. And not the convivial sort of drunk, but rather the totally incoherent, you-really-shouldn't-drink-when-on-meds kind of drunk. I listened to him ramble for 20 minutes before he had to stumble back to top up his cocktail. I am not lying when I say that the only I thing I understood him utter in that entire 20 minutes was that someone got a paint job for a Bronco. And I couldn't even frame that nugget of information with any sort of story. I think a jet way and a ticketing agent were involved somehow, but trying to connect the dots taxes my brain more than I care to.

Somewhat taken back by this land of short, intoxicated seniors I decided to spend some time reading and not thinking about what was going on in the world around me. Unfortunately, the blender being used for the margarita mix made it difficult to focus on my book. My parents, seeing their neighbor as an inspirational figure, decided it was time for a potion. That was Monday and it hasn't stopped. In fact, there hasn't even been a slow-down since then. All week happy hour has started early and doesn't stop until bed time. I am astounded by how much older people drink, especially given the fact that nobody ever seems to get hungover. It's almost like I am witnessing a spring break for seniors....which makes the road ahead not quite so bad.

Then again, I am looking at a very long retirement...

FU