Ben Dronsick left the following comment about my post: "Heavy Snoring in Palm Beach":"Mall buzz, tourists, and restaurant crowds moving north county: how exactly is this a problem? Laurence, I'm disappointed. Or, perhaps, you are."
Well, Mr. Dronsick, you seem to like the sound of heavy snoring, but you make a certain point. So let me explain. As far as restaurants, they've gotten threadbare in Palm Beach, endlessly redundant. There should be a law banning spaghetti trucks on the island and any new Italian restaurants with Nicaraguan waiters greeting one in pseudo Italian.
I was at Cafe l'Europe last evening to have dinner with Brownie McLean and a fascinating old friend of hers. He was an amazing man, or so I think, but I didn't hear a word he said. The sound was that deafening. In the classy restaurants in north county you still can have a conversation.
I don't think it's a good sign when a generous, fun-loving guy like Patrick Park sells his Palm Beach place and moves to Jupiter. Does he know something we don't know? So enjoy the snoring when you can, Mr. Dronsick, and turn off the lights when you leave.
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Laurence, please leave the lights on for us; your blog has raised the audacity of hope. We toured a few Island homes and almost came to terms over one a decade or so ago. However the nagging vistas of "fun-loving" he-men blading ubiquitously about, and the relatively peaceful delight of old "Dullray" gave serious pause and we settled on a south county winter haven in the comatone of Lake Ida instead. Mistake. Fast forward fifteen years and one quick click through the tattooed silicon zoo now passing for Atlantic Avenue will explain our recent divestiture of all things Delray Beach; or should I say Westhampton-South. Apparently the Danceteria didn't close down at all: it moved to Florida and leased a city.
Anyway, we now cling to rising prospects of the full post-Madoff divestiture of all things thong and throng from your island.
I write this from the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia: snowed in.
Shhhh!
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