On any given day, you can see the blond, rich, family of four that just moved here from Michigan, ruining the sunset on
Siesta Key, to take a family portrait in their "Floridian"
white shirts and khaki pants. Shopping is a hobby, because there is nothing else to do. And, the shopping malls, now owned by the Texas-based Westfield, are now overrun by bored-out-of-their-minds preteens with Daddy's credit cards in their hot
little hands. Buisnesses that have thrived here for 30-plus years are being driven out by greedy speculators. Every other home is for sale, with no one buying them, because the real estate
bubble burst. I guess millionares don't feel like purchasing a home on Siesta Key, where driving one block on Memorial Day weekend takes four hours, and you are more likely to have your homeowners insurance taken away
than a dog getting fleas. Then, once you're done playing the "hunker-down" drinking game during the latest hurricane, you can go to Walmart for the sixth time this week. The best thing about Sarasota is that is easy to spot tourists. Tourists, if you're at the beach, are the ones who bring two giant coolers, a giant bag of
sandcastle building tools, a huge umbrella or tent, and about ten bottles of suntan lotion. And they do this to be at the beach for an hour. Outside of Siesta, they're the ones yelling at waitresses, cashiers, and just about everyone else in the service industry. Then they drive 30 miles an hour on US-41, and call it Tamiami Trail, to go for ice cream on St.
Armands circle. They take pictures of the "art" that blocks the view of Marina Jack, without realising that the boats anchored in the bay are inhabited by people whom are considered homeless. Sarasota is the most segregated county in all of Florida, and the city planners are trying desperately to push out anyone who doesn't make at least 100K a year. But then again, they are too busy designing parking lots that are only easily
navigated by the secret service.
