There are times, during the summer months, when we board onto jitneys and pile into cars, our tote bags chocked to the brim with beach towels and swimsuits and flip-flops (and allergy medications, and highly SPF’ed sun-ointments), and soon — traffic allowing — find ourselves in exotic lands of Arcadian pastoralism and poolside cocktails and alarmingly large mosquitoes, with not an ambulance siren or swerving taxi cab or slow-walking gaggle of horizontally-flanked foreign-tourist-pedestrians-in-matching-backpacks to keep us agog. Read more at Esquire.
Source: Esquire