Specifically, the panhandle of Florida. I went to visit my father last week, as I previously mentioned, along with Cpl. Wolves and Married Into Wolves. It was a good trip. We drove. Long drive, but a metric shit ton cheaper than flying.
Anyway, there was a defining moment when I knew I was in Panhandle Florida. We had just driven through Cantonment (pronounced Can-TONE-ment, for the uninitiated) and entered Century in Florida when I saw a dead raccoon on the side of the rode. I paid it no mind. And then Cpl. Wolves, who was riding shotgun as I drove, said, "That raccoon had an arrow in its side."
Ah, welcome to Florida, Panhandle style.