I'd like to be submerged listlessly in a salty hot tub located in a sandy, dark beach bar with a bottle of bourbon in my left hand, a fried chicken in the other, a cuban hanging from my lower lip while my feet are being pampered with a pedicure and my auditory centers are kept entertained by Koko Taylor belting out blues to the rhythm of island girls fanning my face with fragrant bouquets of flowers while native females shamelessly undulate their glistening bodies under the light of the silvery moon and flickering flames surrender their glowing embers to the salty ether.
