State number 6: October 1-4
On October the first it was raining in Philadelphia. But that didn’t matter. For after my 9 o’clock Federal Courts class, I was heading to the airport. My plane was full of Hawaiian prints, shell suits and purple rinses. My folks had been taking some sun in Florida and I was to join them.
My plane stopped off in Charlotte, North Carolina. My enthusiasm for good airports is well-known. This one had a wine bar to showcase local produce, rocking chairs scattered around the halls, and a bakery that kept us all high on cinnamon smells.
As for my time in St. Ewalds Circle, Sarasota, well, there’s not much to report. It’s a great place to be sure, we just didn’t do that much. The hotel had a stunning view and a great breakfast. We beached and we swam. 
I read Geuss, Von Bogandy and some chick-lit. Shoals of fish came right up to the shore, we watched the dolphins playing in the water, and I got dive-bombed by pelicans as I floated on my back. The only other thing to shatter my peace was the loud conversation of two neighbouring sunbathers. (Their views on the Healthcare Bill, Obama’s golfing habits and ‘Dancing with the stars’ were most enlightening.) Anyway, the problem was soon resolved by my moving quickly, and obviously, to relocate a few metres down the beach.
On Sunday we attended a local Church. The announcement sheet provided excellent pre-match entertainment. I was particularly struck by the ‘Coffee and Corinthians’ discussion that takes place every Tuesday. Count me in next term if it’s ‘Merlot and Matthew’. Or, perhaps ‘Rum and Revelation’? (To be honest, such an approach might even aid comprehension of that particular book…)
People take such care to craft their coffees to their own tastes and mood, but are willing to sip them in dull, boring buildings. Sigh. Such is the state of the world we live in. Thankfully this church building wasn’t your standard stone effort. It was pretty cool – a proper treehouse up amongst the pines.
Amongst other great meals, I should note the hilarious night we had at an Irish Pub. Daddy’s salad came with shamrock-shaped feta. Fusion cuisine? Perhaps not.
I was sad to say goodbye to Mummy and Daddy at the airport – we’d had a good time for the two weeks they’d been around. But I took the train back to Philly where I met my friends to start planning our next adventure.
Fifty States 
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