azlk make god laugh

The next one zips by too. But, this time, says
Mongo, the driver at least waved. We decide to give up. But,
lo and behold, the third bus does stop. Mongo calls to alert
me to be standing at the side of the road (A1A), he gets on
the bus, the bus then stops for me, and... we boogie to Miami.

At Miami, I try to get another bus but nobody
wants to take the time to talk with me. I go into my Frank
Rizzo routine, scream, yell and terrorize everyone at the
Greyhound station. Finally, one of the Greyhound workers
allows as how there's a car rental place half-a-mile from the
bus station. Mongo and I heft our luggage and carry it out
into the sauna of a September afternoon in Florida, trudge
half-a-mile and finally rent a Lincoln Town Car.

We then take the Turnpike and head straight up
the middle of the State. We decide to stop running in the
thriving metropolis of a town called "Okeechobee"
(all the characters from "King of the Hill" live
here) and get two of the only motel rooms left between Miami
and Orlando. By the way, a curious thing happened as we were
checking in. The guy at the desk gets a call, rolls his eyes
heavenward and says, "No Ma'am, I'm sorry. We do not have a pool."

Think about it: Thousands of cars are clogging
the highways as people flee the coming storm. The airways are
filled with emergency alerts and instructions. Entire families
are reduced to staying in a single motel room. The storm looms
closer, closer, closer. And here's this daffy bitch, so
unconscious of what's happening around her, she wants to
know...

"Does
The Hotel Have A Pool?"

"No
Ma'am. It don't. But don't you worry. In two more days the
whole damn State will be... nothing but one big pool."

Well, the hurricane comes to my enchanted
islands, squats over them and savages every square foot with
hurricane force winds... that
last for 20 hours!