This was the sign of the weekend: heat lamps vainly trying to warm customers. Business in a town largely dependent upon outdoor entertainment and dining came to a halt on Saturday. By yesterday, Saks sold out of fur coats, having already been picked clean of leather and sweaters; forget about finding earmuffs as there was no previous market for them. Although all creatures suffered dearly, the only bright spot was that the Burmese pythons causing havoc here were particularly affected; it is hoped that the unheard of week of cold took a great toll on them.

As expected, I felt obliged to accompany Henrietta and Leopoldo on a midnight club hop Saturday. It was excruciatingly cold, but there was a certain camaraderie--much like that during hurricanes--between the night clubbers. It was a haughty, almost desperate, will to prove that nature can't stop the party, not to mention the sudden ability to wear as much leather as the body could possibly hold.
I have to make a point of complimenting the owners of Twist on their new bartender in the bungelow, Patrick. His long hair does not show in the photo, but he was quite exotic: he has a Bolivian father and a Greek monther....and is named Patrick. Too bad it was too cold for a pool party.