I was born in Brooklyn and raised in Miami but when my then fiancée finished college we moved to her hometown of Boca Raton. Anything north of Ft. Lauderdale might as well be Disney World, Iraq or Canada as far as anyone from Miami is concerned. Miamians are not really that self-absorbed we’re just simply lazy when it comes to driving on a highway for more than 40 minutes. After 8 years of living in the ol’ “mouth of the rat” here are some of the things I’ve learned to live with.
The scariest part of living in Boca Raton is driving. According to the U.S. Census over 20% of the population is over the age of 65. I’d argue that the U.S. Census is wrong, the percentage is more along the lines of 75% and that’s over the age of 85. Your life is in constant peril as countless senile, drugged up fossils weave through traffic. I know that sounds mean, but someone who doesn’t know where they’re standing should not be allowed to be behind the wheel of a vehicle.
Quebec / New York Drivers
A lot of the frustration in this town revolves around driving. Boca turns into the DMV driving test for folks who do not regularly drive. You can’t live your entire life in NYC riding the subway and then decide to vacation in Florida to learn to drive for 4-6 months out of the year. As for the Quebecers, even the real Canadians can’t stand them.
Rich $nob Syndrome
Every asshole driving a BMW 3-series thinks that they own you. Here’s a clue asshole, no one gives a shit about your entry-level “luxury” vehicle. The problem is that this is Boca, home of keeping up with the Joneses times infinity. If their Ponzi scheme pans out they graduate to what I call Maserati douchebags. You’ll see these at local restaurants around Boca and Delray Beach, they stink of really expensive cologne, tip 5% or less and wear designer $300 t-shirts.
They give you hope for this town; a truly smart bunch of young minds that tend to be polite and overall awesome. Then you realize that they’re leaving this godforsaken place the second the ink dries on their diplomas.
If Dante Alighieri were alive today he’d scrap his 14th century epic poem “Inferno” and rename it –“Whole Foods (Boca Raton.)” On Glades Road just east of Interstate 95 is a shopping plaza where Satan planted his pitch-fork into the ground and claimed it for Hell. Full of a constant flow of rich self-absorbed assholes, zero parking, rude residents and annoying hippies I dare you find a shittier place on earth.
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