The Publix in Lake Park is open.
They’re only accepting cash, though. I counted up my dollars. That is, what’s left of the Turnpike money I keep in my car. Five dollars.
I got strawberry jelly, a loaf of bread, and a bag of chips.
The jelly should make the peanut butter sandwiches feel more complete. Maybe they’ll go down a little smoother. The bread ensures that the sandwich flow will continue unabated. I may even increase my sandwich intake to an unheard of rate.
The chips were to eat in the car while my phone charged.
Oh and, the most important part. Somehow, through a collaboration with Satan, the Coke machine out in front of Publix was running. I got a cold Sprite. Ice. Fucking. Cold. It tasted so good.
I fired up the XM Radio to check out the media coverage our plight is getting. None. We’ve got nothing. Fox News, CNN, MSNBC, ABC News, The Weather Channel — all nothing. Well, I take that back. One of the financial networks was having a lively discussion of the economic impacts of Miami-Dade, Ft. Lauderdale and Palm Beach airports all being shuttered. Whoopie-doo.
You know, it would help being stuck in the dark for days, or possibly weeks, if I knew that the whole country had my disaster in their faces. As it stands now, you guys have forgotten about us.
For shame. FOR SHAME.
And you can’t even read this.
It makes me sad.
Tags: Hurricane Wilma