Olde Floridae

Do you believe in mutual exclusivity? That two aspects of nature or thoughts or feelings cannot coexist simultaneously, like the law of physics that says two different types of matter cannot occupy the same space at the same time?

Sorry to hit you with such a deep philosophical/scientific question so early in the day. What, it’s late where you are? Well, pretend it’s not.

My point is, Florida is called the Sunshine State. It’s on license plates, bumper stickers and, presumably, other things that don’t affix to cars – possibly travel brochures or coffee mugs. I’m here to tell you: It’s a lie. A lie from the pit of a very dark place, like the promise that it won’t be much longer until your appointment while you’re standing in line at the DMV.

Florida is one rainy-ass place. Always has been – “always” being as long as I’ve called it home. Sure, the sun makes plenty of appearances, like right now at the hotel room where lovely Genevieve and I are staying in Miami. As I write, I’m watching the sun come up between two beachfront condominium buildings that each are approximately 746 stories tall. I can’t imagine that the people living at the top of them can hear the roar of the Atlantic below, but at least they can probably see Europe.

On the drive to Miami, we hit miles and miles of rain heading south on I-95. Sidenote: I-4 also is a lie. It runs from Tampa to Daytona, meaning no other states are involved; don’t fall for the “Interstate” moniker. Lie.

Where was I? Oh, right, rain. It rained a lot on the drive. It rained hard, it sprinkled and it misted, then it rained hard again. And this was after enduring a week of rain where we live. It rained so much that the biblical story of the Great Flood is getting an addendum titled “God Holds a Belly-Flop Contest for the Angels.”

Back to mutual exclusivity. You can’t be the “Sunshine State” when it rains like it does in Florida sometimes – “sometimes” being from June to September. Sure, you can have sun showers. Those are cool. Sunny on one side of the sky, rainy on the other. Striking. But that’s rare. You can’t count on those. Suffice to say that most of the last week was wet and miserable to us Floridians.

Well, that’s enough of bad-mouthing rain. It’s cleansing, it’s refreshing, and it’s necessary. We love rain, especially after the spring drought we had. Rain also leads to rainbows, like the one we were chasing on the drive to Miami. With shafts of sunlight peeking through behind us and nothing but H2O coming down in front of us, it looked like the rainbow was on the hood of Gen’s SUV. Like nothing either of us had ever experienced. She took it as a good sign for our weekend trip. Like smart men do, I agreed.

Here’s hoping that we don’t see any rain in Miami. The forecast looks pretty good, but you never know. Here’s also hoping you see a rainbow on your next trip through Olde Floridae. Just don’t complain if it rains. I already told you that happens a lot here.