I went to the beach and swam with the sharks. We weren't going to get in the water, but we did and we rolled in the waves and rolled in the waves and rolled in the waves. I told Mrs. Morgan about this when we got home, and she has a condo on Orange Beach (where we were), and she said they sit on the balcony of the high-rise and watch the sharks swim in the water among the swimmers. She said, "Don't get in that water."

I ate gumbo, baked oysters, sauteed shrimp, crab-stuffed jalepenos, crawfish-stuffed mushrooms, and key lime pie (over three days, of course).

I got a mild sunburn but not bad and drank a bloody Mary and a Margarita and some beer.

I swam in one of those pools that looks like it's spilling over into the ocean, but I swam over and looked at the edge and it's slanted away from you to make the water spill over into a smaller pool. Aha!

I saw hurricane damage from a hurricane that was not Katrina. Ivan! Ivan the Terrible! Gutted some condos and wiped some beach houses empty. Lots and lots of money.

The beach is better in Alabama than it is in Mississippi, because Mississippi has barrier islands that break the waves (but Mississippi has the casinos and used to have the large, historical mansions - I heard that Emeril had a mansion on the beach in Mississippi before Katrina). The farther east you go the better the beach gets - into Florida and the water is greener and greener, and the sharks are keener and keener. They flash their teeth like Tony Curtis in The Great Race.

I would retire to the Mississippi coast if it weren't for Katrina. That Bitch! Now there's nowhere to go there. You could be homeless and no one would notice.