Thursday, December 27, 2012

That one time I had to go to Palm Beach...

I recently had to go to Palm Beach for a work trip.

It was torture. Pure and simple.

I had to stay at The Breakers.

I had to eat delicious food.

I had to sample enticing frosty beverages.

I had to sit at the pool (okay, I only got a few hours of this, admittingly).

I had to hang out with celebrity chefs, like Robert Irvine.

I had to teach the celebrity chefs to run diagonally if they saw an alligator, since gators can only run in a straight line.  What?  They were British and didn't know any better.

I had to show my new friend from Golf Digest (an NYC native) how to off-road in a golf cart.  She was beyond impressed.  

But you know what?  After seeing how "the other half" lives/vacays... I missed my Alabama bubble.  Peeps... I've never seen such excess.  Excess everywhere - jewelry, clothes, little yappy dogs, body enhancements (ahem), and luxury brands galore.  
I was a fish out of water, but I'm glad I was.
As I cruised over to my lounge chair in my Target bathing suit and Rainbow flip flops and flounced down to read my new book, I'm aware I stuck out like a sore thumb.  
And not just because I was one of the only brunettes.  
Did you know some people wear high heels to the pool?
It was a "People Watching" Event for the ages.

I missed you.

Let the record show:  This is not me.

Private Rockettes show at the Winter Wonderland Party.
I know, right?

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