On way back from PHL airport yesterday I was struck by two things. 1) There was no traffic on July 4 in and around the southern part of Philadelphia–even though I was expecting hell-traffic on account of the holiday and DE closing a major bridge/highway in the area. But hold a sec. There was some traffic. We didn’t hit it till we got to Rehoboth Beach, DE, about 130 miles straight down the coast. Infamous July 4 beach traffic, baby! And. Here comes the shocking part. 2) I couldn’t believe the police force, if you could call it that, at the DE beaches. I must have counted four black, smoke window SUVs with multi-lighting and wannabe nazi-boys driving them. There were at least three or four marked police cars, all with their shotguns mounted erect next to their brassed faced drivers. Then there were numerous police on Harleys, a few on bicycles and a bunch just standing on the street. They were all in Rehoboth, on route 1, the strip–on a day where a hurricane cancelled the fireworks but was already making its way back to mother Atlantic. Ok. I get it. This is America. It’s her birthday. But a military-like force waiting around to control the drunks hanging out at bars after a day on the beach? Who the hell is paying for all the crewcuts? Having grown up around cops, I felt nervous as hell. I made sure that I drove 2mph below the designated speed limit (35mph), and didn’t bother to throw out any wasted joint remnants that had accumulated in my rental car. Obviously there was a bit of paranoia but they were all watching me. They were watching because, I’m sure, the NSA has told them that I’m worst-writer and I frequently refer to my former home as American’t and I know the answers to all the questions as to why we are now a police state. Oh well. Just two more weeks and I’m outta here.