My screaming “But HOW?!?? Just please, sir, tell me HOW!!!” to the perfectly friendly cab driver who dropped me off at the West Palm Airport and told me to “stay warm in New York!”
It’s important to leave Florida and go back to NYC in the dead of winter because waking up every morning and thinking “Life is good!” is really no way to live. And honestly, my brain just gets tired from being so positive. It was truly exhausting being that happy for 5 days. I don’t know how people down here do it all the time.
Also, my Seasonal Affective Disorder makes me an interesting, dynamic person of substance. Winter misery and despair is part of who I am and I am proud.
*typed from the West Palm Beach Airport while clutching a duty-free wine and sobbing into a bag of Combos.
(Part of the Always Be Honest With Your Dating App series)
I was only supposed to be in Florida through this morning, but because of a flight cancellation, my trip is now extended through tomorrow. My gracious hosts weren’t planning on having me here for today, and they had to go into work. They were VERY concerned about what I was going to do for lunch, which was sweet, but come on guys, I’m 32 years old, I’m pretty sure I know how to fix myself a meal.
To be clear, the apple is decorative.
On my daily morning run here in sunny Boca Raton, Florida, I couldn’t hep but compare the contrasting aspects of my exercise routine down here vs. in NYC. Let’s look at these three categories:
2. Road blocks: Sometimes on a run, things block your path…..
3. Scenery as you leave your home and begin your run
As I listen to these old ladies next to me at the pool in Boca discuss plastic surgery (“You should SEE her nose now, she went from ogre to belle of the ball”), early bedtimes (“Irving can’t even stay up past the evening news, forget the late show!”) and 5:00 dinner reservations (“I wanted to do 6:00 but Estelle said too late, she’ll get indigestion”), I can’t help but shake my head in dismay.
At the fact that I don’t live here. This is my mothership.
That moment when your flight to go to Florida, a trip you’ve been looking forward to for months and upon which your mental sanity lies, is cancelled (because guys, it’s REALLY cold out there– no, not snowing. Just cold. And I’m not sure if you knew this, but back when planes were first built, no one considered the factor of coldness. I guess maybe coldness didn’t exist back then. And in the 112 years since that first plane was invented, no one has yet thought to coldness-proof the design, even though, as it turns out, much of the earth is cold.)
Fucking Spirit Air. Never again.
So what do you do? Book your only affordable option, which is to fly out from DC tomorrow, and which will involve you hopping on a 5 hour bus right now home to your parents’ house.
And is it worth it? Yes. Because, guys– I already painted my nails pink. If I stay in NY I’ll just look stupid.
Plus, Dad’s wine tonight. Things could be worse.
(But let me just clarify, in case you thought I was getting all Positive Patty on you– things could be a LOT fucking better).
*typed while defrosting my hands in Penn Station, sandwiched between two homeless men.
When I told my date last night that I am going to Florida in February, he immediately jumped to the conclusion that my parents have a second home there. He literally just assumed that because I am a Jewish girl from the east coast, my family MUST have a house in Florida. And that really pissed me off.
Because why DON’T we have a house in Florida, Mom and Dad?