...and other reasons I will never live in Florida.

I hate Florida. It's hot. It's humid. Every body of water over 6" deep has at least one alligator living in it. The air is full of mosquitoes, the ground is full of lizards, and the bars are full of geriatrics.

So far this has been my favorite antenna installation. After a plane ride routed through Nashville and into Tampa, we drove the hour to Orlando just in time for any store selling alcohol to close. Why didn't we fly into Orlando? Because I scheduled the tickets for the wrong city. This shouldn't surprise you, as it didn't surprise me, nor my boss. That got things off on the right foot. I got a full 20 minutes of sleep that night because the guy I came down here with snores in his sleep. He also likes to watch porn, and I'm sure glad I get to explain that charge on my company credit card to our CFO.

We get up at 5:00 AM Phoenix time and there is a torrential downpour outside which I get to set up a satellite dish in. Great. After ten minutes of work it looked like there was a six man wet T-shirt contest going on, and my shoes were completely soaked through. I was so wet that I debated just pissing my pants because no one would notice, literally. I may or may not have followed through. The BEST part of the first day was definitely reaching under part of our satellite dish to rig it for the crane, and accidentally grabbing a hornets nest. Luckily I only got stung once, but that didn't piss me off as much as the following comment by my partner of "Oh yeah, that's pretty common, you gotta watch out for those." It turned out that the guys we were installing this thing with were the same rednecks I met in Conroe, TX.

Turns out that the place we were installing this wasn't actually Orlando, it's Lake Buena Vista, FL. I wish it had been Orlando, so I could have found Shaquille O'Neal and told him that he is a huge N...... um.... that he should be working in a coal mine in Louisiana if the world was a just place. Instead, we were smack dab in the middle of Disney World. I fucking hate Disney World, ever since the first cruise where I etched the marble floor of the elevator with my stomach acid, and the second cruise which was even worse. Every time, and without fail, it makes me want to drink myself into a gutter, especially this Thursday night. We'll get there.

We probably spent the better part of our days getting lost in Disney World because the only map we had looked like this:

That's right, no labeled streets. This map would probably have been fine if we were traveling to the jobsite in a hot-air balloon, but I checked and Hertz was fresh out. Not only did the map have no street names, THE STREETS HAD NO STREET NAMES. The only signs were "Epcot Center, next left" which didn't really help when we were looking for Vista Boulevard.

That first night my partner and I went out and got sushi, and LOTS of saki bombers. I told him that I didn't want to drink, but apparently I had a reputation at the office (great) and I had to live up to it. Let me sum up how drunk I got as follows: My roommate in Phoenix has mentioned the fact that we should get a dog. Our apartment is too small for a dog, but big enough for a cat. Or....

A mating pair of raccoons. Once we got back to the hotel I saw the five raccoons outside and ran around trying to catch one with my suitcase. I'm glad I didn't actually catch one because I'm not sure what I would have done next with an angry raccoon in a suitcase, besides obviously beating it into submission with a stick.

I told this story to the Conroe rednecks the next day at lunch and the one who traps and has coyote teeth stopped me, rolled up his sleeve, and pointed out his raccoon scars. He also showed the scratch scars on his chest and stomach, but I couldn't get a candid photo of those.

Coyote Teeth: "Yeah I was camping and walking around to the other campsites, you know, to look for ladies, and we saw this raccoon. My friend dared me to catch it, so I grabbed it by the back of the neck. That thing twisted around and scratched the shit out of me."

Un fucking believable. This kid had gotten attacked by a raccoon. After lunch we needed a bulldozer moved, and since I was the only one with extensive training in bulldozery, I took it upon myself to help. But by bulldozery I really meant "riding lawnmowery" and the extensive training meant the time I cut the grass so short it all died. My mom actually started bawling when she saw it.

Surprisingly, I didn't destroy the car in the background. That night, Thursday, we went to the only bars around, which, ironically, were in Disney World. A dirt cheap $23 cover charge, and beers a steal $5.50, somehow it turned out to be an expensive night. We started in with the beers, then the shots. Coyote teeth rounded up about four girls, introduced me to one that looked sixteen, and said, "Hey let's buy these girls shots." I said, "Ok." and turned around and walked away. I wasn't about to waste my time or money. It's a good thing too, because I watched from across the bar as a police officer came in, grabbed him, and took him out of the bar. Turns out the girls were only 18 (it was an 18 and over club, which we didn't realize). We got a call from him about 20 minutes later, and it turned out that he was getting BANISHED from the Happiest Place on Earth. For the rest of his life. I can't even think of any Disney cartoon characters that happened to.

I woke up sick and still drunk the next morning, drove to Tampa to catch the plane in the nick of time, and since it was Southwest, I purposely sat next to a mediocre looking girl with the nicest ass I've seen in four years. And yes, I remember the last one. It was the second best plane ride I've ever had, the other being the best because of who was waiting at the end. The first half hour of the plane ride consisted of me sweating and concentrating on my breathing in an effort to avoid vomiting from the combination of turbulence and hangover. The rest of it was me hitting it off with the ass girl (woman, she was 30) from Estonia, who was one of the most fascinating individuals I've ever met. She had taught herself English from American movies. She had followed her dreams her whole life, had refreshing views on religion, culture, and employment. She was sarcastic and hilarious. When we got off the plane the guy behind me tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, "Good Luck." But this wan't meant to be. It's funny how people can walk into your life, leave an impression, and walk right back out.

And deny your request to come have a drink at your apartment during her two hour layover.

Just kidding.

Maybe.