There’s No Place Like Home

There’s no place like home. That’s what I said when we got back to the RV, which is our home. We’d driven up the beach to the “busy” end and it was manic. Mobs of people everywhere, traffic out the wazoo, waiting times for restaurants to make a hungry man faint dead away for lack of food, and every square inch of the tourist end of the island was total busy-ness. Even the sky was busy with birds for all the people feeding them, throwing food off their balconies to the hovering flocks. Parking for a long-bed dually truck was almost non-existent. We gave up and went back to the RV. And I said, “There’s no place like home! Peaceful!”

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