Stu signs an autograph while standing in the morass in Bithlo, FL.
The sunset ran away from us as we raced from west to east. Darkness clouded the Greyhound bus's windshield and swallowed our hearts. We were driving to Florida. More specifically, central Florida.
I know I've been complaining a lot and believe me, I have my reasons. For all intensive purposes, this trip has been a hell on Earth. But I think I'm onto Pork Pony's zany motives and I think I like it.
Bithlo is a scrawny, scruffy little town due west of the tourist populated Orlando. More different types of animals are eaten by its natives than anywhere else in the country. Alligator is considered quite the delicacy. The natives are a bit wily. They all enjoy randy spankings and lashings. I must say, I got in line myself!
Contrary to my sanitized stays in Phoenix and Irvine, I decided to get dirty in Bithlo. Why, you ask? Simply put, I found the depth and intricacy of the white trash there to be alluring. Men wrestle over chew tobacco leavings. Women wrestle over chew tobacco leavings. Women wrestle. And they're husky, the lot.
Watching these brawny women grapple made me forget that they had no teeth. They'd tussle for a bit, cook up a pot of divine 'gator stew and then get back to their playful fisticuffs. If it weren't for the intense humidity and the lack of any written material, I'd say this was heaven.
Send me to your next chosen firmament, Pork Pony.
