Forgotten Florida
The picture above is of a beachside hotel intended as an exclusive resort for the ultra-rich (complete with an air-strip), but it was abandoned after the 1929 Stock Market Crash hit. That hotel was on Perdido Key -- "perdido" Spanish for "lost" -- and became my playground in the 1970's.
I had just moved with my family from Mississippi, the last state to enact a compulsory attendance laws for school age children. I shit you not when I tell you there were no school buses for the students even as late as the '70s. From elementary to high school I either rode with someone who had a car or walked my ass the couple of miles to school. That's right. And the school system didn't give a fuck either. They didn't have money to operate bus systems; they could barely pay teachers. I never saw a school with a fence around it until I moved out of the state which was a real culture shock.
My parents left me with no choice as my ass was going, like it or not, but the schools didn't report absences or if you skipped school. Shit, we used to buy a $5 matchbox of weed, go to New Orleans, & hang out on Bourbon Street for the day when I was 13 yrs old. I'm not especially smart, but I'm not stupid either. Getting a high school diploma in Mississippi amounted to doing long division & writing your name. All that changed when we moved.
Back in the 70s as a teenager, you were 'square' or cool -- meaning you smoked weed. I was selling weed, popping Quaaludes & taking my Mom's diet pills (amphetamine) at 14 yrs-old, but still managed to graduate high school. At age 18 I discovered "doctor-shopping". That's where you visit multiple doctors for the same medications even in the same month; very illegal. You see, back then there was no Internet linking up all the god-damned pharmacies' customers. I only stopped after I got cheap one month and I crossed the wrong pharmacy with the wrong doctor's prescription. Ooops! Shit!
By the time I was 20-yrs old I'd overdosed on PCP twice, had friends die, get murdered or locked up & I was working a dead-end job taking home $80 bucks a week net. Then, the drummer for Led Zeppelin died, wherein, I realized I'd never see them in concert. This was my excuse to enlist in the military, travel to new lands, meet new people & possibly kill a few. I never left the southern United States. But, it did give me the opportunity to meet some really hard-core motherfuckers because our squad always trained with Special Forces. Unfortunately, the officers in my platoon were idiots. I told them if we go to combat, "the first person I'm shooting is YOU." When it came time to re-enlist, I requested a "non-combat postion" & was told there was no such animal. Honorable Discharge and back to the Free World, baby.
I immediately found a cheap place to live, got a night job, & enrolled in college. Politicians fucking lie to us everyday about shit. I attended college four separate times for a total of 10-yrs & never paid a dime of tuition. All with grant money or scholarships. America already has free education, but no one tells the populace this. Mainstream media tells you it's just the nerd in high school that gets scholarships by playing basketball/football or being really smart. Afraid not, amigo. If one is willing to do the dirt (so to speak), you can get paid to go to college. My family often referred to me as a "professional student."
But, eventually my addictions got the best of me. The security clearances I had in the military got revoked after I was busted with 1-joint of marijuana. Despite having a Computer Science degree I couldn't even get a job as a data entry operator at the Census Bureau. So, got a job welding while traveling the country building bridges & high-rise buildings. Great money until you live in Miami where cocaine drives the economy with you along with it. My first vacation in adulthood was when I got locked up for about a month. "You mean to tell me I get 3-hots, a cot & don't have to hit a lick?" Wtf, right?
It was a sad cycle because ironworkers are notorious for being wild. A superintendent on a job once remarked, "Thank God for the work-release program or you wouldn't have a crew." I then told him I had a college degree & he laughed at me like I was joking. That's what you call an ironic oxymoron.
Finally, a fellow co-worker pulled me to the side to show me where to get help for my addictions. While I didn't go in right away, I ended up in several rehab centers. One of which was operated by a lady in the Witness Protection program. Quite a story there I wish I had the space to tell it. I've lost every worldly possession many times over & over, yet for all the material things gone what remains is truly remarkable given all the smugglers, dealers, cops I've known for God looks after fools and children. May you stay forever young.