No, I’m not blogging about Virginia Woolf. I’m blogging about two of the biggest tourist attractions on Earth and what lies in between. While driving here last night, I noticed that between South Florida and Central Florida is an expanse of nothing: swamp land, forest fires, glowing street lights, and caravan after caravan of Chrysler mini-vans leaving one tourist attraction, my home, to go to another, Disney. Who the fucks lives off the turnpike? Everyone I see on this road trips-the families, teenage druggies, and migrant workers- are on a journey. I assume some of the people who work at the rest stops, i.e. one toothed Betty, live here, but how do they live? Everyone knows the extreme wealth of SoFl is a cycle of tourist money into luxury businesses. No one visits Lake Halawhatever.
Although most people assume only retired snowbirds live in Fort Lauderdale and Miami, I understand the culture of daddy problems and the endless midlife crisis known as Weston mothers. In Orlando, I expect bros, making a final attempt at Valencia Community College before returning home to their rich mommies, and hipsters, riding their bikes before they dress up as Minnie Mouse for work. I know South and Central Floridians are cra cra because they’re on endless holiday, which is not good for the soul, but that’s not even a separate blog post. That’s a whole fucking book. But why do so many serial killers reside in between these places off the turnpike? I really want to figure it out and know what goes on in those off road warehouses. If I try, I might die though. Probably not worth it.
I guess I can wonder…
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