Shortly after we moved from California to New York, my family took a trip to Florida. It seems to me we rode a bus there so real estate agents could convince my parents to buy swamp land. I do remember there were bingo games on the bus, and my little sister kept winning. After she’d won a few prizes, Daddy got embarrassed and stopped announcing it when she’d get another bingo. I think it rained most of the time we were there; not the kind of rain they have in New York or Utah or even California. It wasn’t the least bit refreshing, like stepping into a warm shower with all your clothes on. At one point one of the agents directed our attention through the windows of the bus. “That’s where they’re building the new Disneyland park,” she said. I looked, but all I could see was wet cows and soggy citrus trees. I sure wouldn’t mind owning property there now.
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