Real Resorts

When we stay on Florida's east coast, in a real resort, our umbrella and lounge rental fees on the beach include surfer dude Nick helping us, dispensing laid back philosophy and raking up the beach flotsam. 

Over here on the west coast in a nature preserve, as noted last year, NOBODY RAKES A THING. Dead, stinking fish on the beach? Isn't Mother Nature wonderful! West coast Nicks turn out to be environmental nuts, more concerned about nesting turtles than your damn umbrella positioning. 

On the east coast, old guys stand around in a group in about 3' of water, beer and cigar in hand, hats on. On the west coast, there's shelling. You faithful readers will have little difficulty guessing which crowd I identify with. 

Real resorts have places to eat food and buy it right on the grounds. Here, we have a restaurant whose windows overlooking the Gulf turn into mirrors on the inside when it gets dark, so the restaurant lights won't disorient turtle hatchlings. 

On the east coast you have a life, on the west coast you are subjugated by the turtle overlords.