I am a WiFi Addict

Has it come to this? Am I at my nadir now? Could this be the sign I need to change, to break my addiction? Me, driving around Vero Beach at 1:30 am on Christmas night, looking for my fix? Driving into darkened parking lots, down lonely streets, checking and checking for a signal? Looking here, there, everywhere, teased by indications, fooled by phantoms, still hopeful for another hit.

Yes, I have a problem, I have an addiction. I am a WiFi addict.

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The Annual Riverside Cafe Reunion

What is there to do at Christmas time in Vero Beach? After you’ve recovered from your 26-hour home-flight oddssey, talked with Mom and Dad, caught up with your brothers and sisters, listened to your Grandparent’s same stories and dodged all those “We’re ready for grandkids” comments, where do you go?

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Twenty-six hours to Vero

My ass is flat. I’m only one third the way to Florida and my ass is already flat. It’s flat from the book I’ve sat on for the last three hours. The book I need to sit at this desk correctly, so I can type like mad during my layover at Charles du Gaulle airport. I’m a WiFi addict, and need my fix.

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Rue Bliss Ain’t Happiness

Do you feel that stop signs are suggestions vs. requirements? That stop lights are advisements vs. law? That one-way streets are too restrictive? Then you’d love Beirut driving. No rules, no though, all balls and bravery, Beiruties don’t slow for stop signs, don’t stop for stop lights, and find one-ways’ disgusting instead of directional. Into any intersection, at anytime, they drive, not slowing for others, not even looking in your direction less they show a sign of weakness and be required to stop.

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Monday Night = Beirut Party Night

Monday night, midnight, so maybe even Tuesday morning, and I am in Cuba Libre, the Beirut bar, not the drink, and Ali and I’m out with friends pouncing on a bottle of vodka. Che might not be happy, think we should be on the rum wagon, but I don’t care. The hottest Beiruties are here and my eyes are soaking up the beauty.

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A Vodka Gimlet Is All I Ask

I stopped in the little shop across the way and for some odd reason, felt it was high time I tried arak, the Lebanese moonshine.

Whoa, damn! Burning my throat, blurring my vision, and blunting my brain, it had me stumbling blind drunk across town to my hotel. Screaming at the Ministries building for being in my way, until the nice men with guns chased me off? Check! Babbling Russian with a random cab driver as he was changing a tire in the middle of Rue Bliss? Check! Being questioned by armed security guards three times in three blocks? Check thrice!

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Its Beer Pong – Not Beirut

Back in my first days of DC residency, I was introduced to this most American of games; Beer Pong. Meant to be a drinking game for college kids, it’s a skill-less game of bouncing ping pong balls into plastic cups as an excuse to get wasted on bad beer. While its so foolish its banned in Virginia bars, the NoVA kids still hold it in high esteem, and beer pong tourneys are hotly contested.

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Bang Bang Beirut

Arriving in the Beirut airport to super-tight security, we head to the hotel in a somber city. On the way there, I look out on a wild city. Half-finished buildings compete with half-ruined, and half-rebuilt ones, the legacy of a decade of civil war followed by a decade of rebuilding, and decades of neglect. Poverty next to opulence, Christian next to Muslim, church next to mosque, it is a land of differences defining logic.

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Lebanon – Here I come!

It’s 4pm today, and I’m in a meeting with the VP of Field Operations and the CFO of my company. We’re talking about this new Geekcorps program we just won in Lebanon – Access to International Markets through Information Technology (AIM-IT), and how the VP is going to Beirut to start the program Monday. I’m excited, for not only does this project mean Geekcorps doubles again in size, but that I get to go to Lebanon in January to start the programmatic cycle of the project. Or so I thought.

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A Cafe Citron Thursday

The night began with the last-minute email from Amy that says there is a par-tay at Cafe Citron, a Latin-themed bar favored by the hotties for its cheap and tasty mojitos. She’s celebrating a promotion and work, and me, happy with a new Geekcorps program contract, am ready to make the night right.
Downstairs, I find Amy and crew on the second drink, mellowing form the daily grind. Think I should catch up quickly, I spy the sangria pitcher pour at the bar and try to get my own sampling. If only!

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