Only on the Gulfshore

Not to worry. This isn’t nearly as complex as it might appear. It’s quite simple, really, once you plug in the following definitions.

First, let L stand for latitude in its geographic sense, meaning the parallel lines that go east-west around the globe and intersect with the longitude lines.

Then let 27° represent the approximate location, latitude-wise, where, if you were driving north to south, you would first begin to experience the benefits of living along the Gulfshore. In other words, any latitudinal location below 27° would fit into the equation. For the record, the latitude of Naples is roughly 26.14° North, Fort Myers is 26.64° and Sarasota, which is the Gulfshore’s northern boundary, is 27.34°.

Now, let Lı stand for latitude in its social sense, meaning, according to Webster’s, "freedom of action or choice."

And finally, let I stand for inertia, meaning, once again according to Webster’s, the "indisposition to motion, exertion or change."

Now, given these definitions, we can easily use them to construct an intelligible sentence in Mother English. A most literal translation of 27°L = Lı = I would be: "If one is lucky enough to live anywhere below 27°L, then one will experience great freedom of action that invariably results in an indisposition to move or exert one’s self."

In other words, living down here automatically means taking life easy. To do otherwise would mean violating a universal law of nature, one that states as one gets closer to the equator the slower one’s metabolism becomes. I don’t know exactly how or why this works, but it does. A whole slew of natural forces—gravity, tides, the sun, the moon, the availability of cheap rum—are probably responsible.

For proof, just look at how people act up North. They’re jumpy. They fidget and squirm and bustle around, often bustling simply for the sake of bustling. They cannot help this perpetual state of momentum. They are sad victims of their latitude.

Heading south, the pace slackens. State by state, latitude line by latitude line, subtle changes take place until, in that region known as the Deep South, slowness begins to set in. The quality of slowness is pretty much uniform throughout the Deep South until one approaches the magic 27° mark, where a bit of exotica is added to the slowness. This exotica results from the fact that, living here along the Gulfshore, we’re not really a part of the Deep South. Our identification is more with the Caribbean, the islands, the tropics. Here in the tropics we are bound by our very location to relax. Properly relaxed, we can enjoy the full range of social latitudes. And it becomes an easy matter to slip easily into a state of inertia.

Inertia is not a bad thing. It should not be confused with laziness or lethargy. Rather, inertia represents the ability to set one’s self up in the best of all possible situations and stay there while exerting the least bit of effort imaginable. It is the most pleasing level of existence available to humankind.

I live here because my transmission is stuck in low gear and, thankfully, in this corner of Florida there’s no real chance of getting it repaired. I’m at a point of equilibrium. If I moved any further north, I’d have to shift gears or get run down. Any further south and I’d probably come to a complete stop and rust. As it is, I just putter along contentedly, wasting little gas, getting nowhere fast and having a fine time of it.

It’s just a simple matter of latitude and inertia.

27°L = Lı = I.

That says it all.