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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