The afternoon session wasn’t too bad. I even had something coherent to say. We got off early, so I returned to the hotel with some ideas in mind. I figured I’d walk down the road and check out some of the dinner prospects. It was hovering around 97F late this afternoon (if the bank across the street is to be trusted), but I was feeling guilty about not having my bike along for the trip (my normal mode of exercise). So I stopped by the hotel lobby to check with the desk dude, to see if my memory was serving me well.

It was, but I fetched an odd look with my statement about walking. He looked betrayed, as if I was his one sane customer of the day… and now he couldn’t count on me either. Hell, it’s hot, but it’s not like we’re strangers to a little hellfire and humidity in Florida. And it’s not like this is a bad part of town either. I’m surrounded by all the comforts of suburbia. How bad can it be if there’s a Birkenstock store across the street?

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking… those dudes in clogs are into some pretty crazy shit.

Two miles, a raspberry ice tea, and a nice chicken teriyaki wrap later, and I’m back in my hotel room. I feel well fed and well tread. The clog dudes didn’t give me any trouble, though they did frown on my Nike sandals.