Californicated

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It’s official. I am Californicated. I swore it would never happen to me, but it has.

Think you’re above it? Think again.

This week I traveled on vacation to Florida. The first thing I noticed while in search of the perfect Cuban (sandwich) was that even at 6 a.m., local workers on the streets of Miami rushing to work on their bikes and motorcycles, helmet-less, had one hand on their handlebars, and the other on a big, fat Cuban cigar! Smoking while driving, and without a helmet would probably get you hard time in California!

Our first month living in California, my daughter was stopped by police twice in a week’s time on her yellow beach bike because, as the officers said, she “looked suspicious.” She has not been back on a bike since. She was truly traumatized.

But that is just the beginning.

Our second night in Miami, my husband and I went dancing. We walked out of an establishment with our mojitos in hand. Now to those of you outside of California still living in America, that might not sound crazy. But you are not Californicated. In California, you cannot have alcohol on the streets, or on the beach. You cannot smoke cigarettes or cigars most anywhere, either. You can, however, smoke pot almost anywhere…

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