The Arnold Palmer

This entry is dedicated to the Daytona Crew. Phil, Troy, Brandon, Bill, Ray, Dave, Steve. This was the greatest group of guys you could pick to spend four weeks going through the crappiest hotels in Daytona. We kept things light, always joking despite the fact that we walked through crime scenes, faced actual danger from mold inhalation(finally put on the masks) and just in general had to put up with more crap than we cared to. The Deck was our retreat. It's lower room was at beach level, no glass or anything separating you from the ocean breeze, soft salt blowing through your hair as you enjoyed a beer...or four to unwind after work. I was introduced to a new world, the world of the traveling consultant. We are the few, the proud, the ones who don't have a home life. I can't say that I long to be just like them, but I do admire them, and find the concept to be somewhat tempting. I was introduced to a new drink, the Arnold Palmer. A florida classic it's simply made with unsweet tea and lemonade split 50-50. It cuts the overly sweet or sour taste of the lemonade while also adding flavor to unsweet tea (let's face it, unsweet tea is pretty rotten stuff).
This was the taste today as I left, it was bittersweet quite literally. I was glad to be finished with a project that I had labored on for 4 weeks, and I was sad to see the crew break up. Prose no longer sufficient, I turn to an ancient muse. The bog-sprite Lagavulin loosens my tongue and bids me sing.

It was a sunny morning when I pulled into here
Eager for the chance to make new start clear
When the wind blew my hair as I crossed over the bay
I knew something was a head of me on the road today
But I wasn't sure what I'd find here at 92 and A1A

It was a breezy evening when I sat at the bar
Mumbling about sore feet dragging me in from the car
It was a gloomy end to work when I looked up from my place
To see the ocean rocking gently and the caps on the waves
But I wasn't sure about tomorrow here at 92 and A1A

It was a rainy night as I walked down the strip
Crying about you and how I couldn't forget
The sand blew in my face and my eyes filled with flame
From my knees the lights in the towers were like sprites in the rain
But I wasn't sure how I'd gotten here to 92 and A1A

It was a clear afternoon when I drove away from the sand
I'd been beaten and offered no helping hand
My soul was at peace for I'd done what I had planned
Between surf shops and shanties and men shackled to land
I'd seen Heaven and beauty in a young mother's eyes
I've seen futures and pasts in the ocean and skies
It's as a new man that I'm leaving in the left lane
But it's because what I learned here at 92 and A1A