I-95 Florida Rest Area

August 2017, en route to Orlando, FL from Lancaster, PA. The heat occasionally pulled me toward the comfort facilities, mind heavy set on getting some rest. We pulled into the I-95 Rest Area somewheres in the Florida. Something southern, something tropical, like the Caribbean washed against my skin. My hand was held by the humidity. The giant moisture vapes in the air clung on my skin. I felt like a sleepiness was invading my body. I needed to sit, so I sat. All the Rest Area tables were built of concrete. Tables, chairs, benches, cemented to the cement. Sturdy, hurricane proof. I didn’t know that hurricane Irma was only 1 month away. I rested at the cement table, I wanted to lay down on it but Melinda would disapprove. So, instead, I wiped the sleepy crust from my face and entertained the idea of sitting here to play dominos. And taking a few long drags from a long neck Corona.