I hate to upset you, but I am in Florida right now. Miami, to be exact. South Beach to be exacter. As you read this, picture me sitting next to a lady who looks like SophiaPetrillo from The Golden Girls and the two of us are sharing a big frozen cocktail with a big gay umbrella in it. Sophia and I each have our own straw but she has a Metamucil chaser. I am having mine with a chaser of another big frozen cocktail with a big gay umbrella in it. On my last night before work, I served a room of about 100 people. It was huge shit-show-cluster fuck but I didn’t care because I knew that within hours my ass would be sitting on an airplane while they were still there trying to understand why only one glass of wine and a bottled water cost $19.54. (it’s New York City, that’s why.) Did I mind when a lady flagged me down to take a picture of her and her friend despite me having way more important things to do? No, for I was going on vacation. Did I mind when one lady ordered an O’Doul’s and then found me to change her order to dry vermouth and then sent it back because she wanted sweet vermouth? No, for I was going on vacation? Did I mind when some man grabbed my elbow as I walked past him and almost made me drop a tray on another table? Yes, I did mind that because even though I am going on vacation, I still don’t want people touching me. At the end of the night as I deposited all 24 of my checks everyone suddenly became the most impatient bunch of crazies I have ever seen. Usually there are a couple of people in a hurry, but that night almost every single person whispered to me that they needed to go right away. Rather than wait at their tables for me to either make change or run a credit card for all 24 checks, people crowded around me at the computer breathing down my neck. It’s funny that they think that will make me move faster, because it does the polar opposite. But did I mind? No, for I was going on vacation. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a pina colada that is bigger than my head.