The metal support beams of the tents at the boat show started to sway, creak and groan and the fire department said that’s it, go home.
One of the rooms by the elevator emitted trace evidence of marijuana from under the door; such undertakings are typically frowned upon at Best Western but maybe the perpetrator has glaucoma.
Yesterday I basked briefly in the glow of fat little peacock bass getting stuck with a fly I tied for just that purpose. But then the winds kicked up and the tenor of the entire place changed from Steel Pulse to Lightnin’ Hopkins.
There’s cold beer at the hotel bar but only in cans, which is alright when you think about it. Might be a little hard to execute the double haul at the moment but it’s fun to make bad fishing analogies and watch the palm trees bend like a mid-flex.