Saturday, March 15, 2008
I Stumbled upon this. In case you're too lazy to read a short, six-paragraph article, I'll sum it up: tropical island, free cocaine and cash literally floating onto the shore. Amazingly, the island does not seem to be overpopulated.
While free drugs and a seemingly effortless source of income would obviously both be nice, I want to focus on a broader point: Why don't I live on an island somewhere? It would be summer all the time, I could literally sleep my days away on the beach, and island people never seem to be that stressed out.
I imagine myself working at a bar on the beach. It would be an old wooden structure offering cheap margaritas and a cool swath of shade. I'd be the friendly gay bartender who flirted with the sailors and made lots of tips; after each of my shifts, I'd grab a couple of Coronas from the cooler and when asked where I was going, I'd just look back and wink and say, "Absolutely nowhere, and that's the beautiful part." My patrons would gaze on in awed wonder as I slowly but intently walked away, and then next morning I'd be back, my eyes tired but my smile ready for a new day. It'd be a lot of work but stress-free.
After all, what is there to be stressed about? Hurricane warnings and scary fucking sea spiders aside, there's really nothing to be worried about on a tropical island.
Here in New York I have boy drama and difficult exams and arguments with friends and anxieties about getting into clubs and annoying sleet and obnoxious cab drivers who take the long route from the West Village back to my place on the Bowery because they think I don't know the difference but it really shouldn't cost ten dollars and the only reason I'm not protesting is because it's late and I'm tired and not in the mood for an argument.
I'll bet people in Maui don't have to deal with this shit.