We scurried out of Dodge on President's Day, attempting to split the seam between snowstorms. Our first stop was about an hour south of Harrisburg, PA. While we caught some new snow overnight, I- 81 was clear and we had avoided the dreaded Harrisburg rush hour through the new snow. Somewhere around Spartanburg SC, we out ran the snow and by the time we hit Atlanta, it was 70 degrees, which was pronounced balmy, and most of the traffic jam from the previous week's ice storm had cleared up. Then, after a long-days drive down I-75, we entered the Sunshine State and it was straight on to morning.
Naples is, in effect, the southernmost outpost of civilization on the Gulf Coast of Florida. While Key West is due south of Naples, they are separated by some serious open water. Key West has never been confused with Naples and is,I am sure, willing to concede to Naples whatever laurels it may claim. Believe me, no one in Key West cares about the rest of the state.
When Jimmy Buffet sings of Margaritaville, it brings to mind long sleepy days and star studded nights, all observed from the comfort of a Pawley's Island hammock, strung between two palm trees,, where life's biggest problem is limited to locating the salt shaker, needed to finish off the prep of the drink after which the place is named. The basis for the whole Margaritaville experience, starts with a mid-level tequila buzz..
One of the countless ways in which Naples differs from Key West is in the average daily alcohol ingestion of the respective citizenry. Suffice it to say, it's a lot lower in Naples, where the most popular drink is an Arnold Palmer, which is made up of half iced tea, half lemonade and zero alcohol. Do not, we repeat, do not, order this drink in any establishment located on Duvall Street.
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