I’m leaving the coastline. The lapping waves. The sun-drenched skies. The blowing and swirling sand. The warm temperatures. The row of over-tanned biddies next to the shuffleboard courts who gave us unpleasant looks for invading their territory.
I’m leaving the obsessive revving of motorcycle engines at all hours by those in town for Bike Week 2009. The leather-clad bikers. The loud tattoos.
Mostly I’m leaving my vacation.
And that’s just sad.