America: 50☆Stars (Vol. 4)

Episode 23: Fyre and Flooding Man

April 9, 2023—Miami Beach, Florida

Brunch at a Waffle House seemed like the tamest thing to do for Florida and Georgia to end their spring break together. However, nothing cured a hangover better than a plate of chicken and waffles, plus a refreshing bottle of orange juice to revitalize the senses. Hardly anybody in the South could say no to that, not even an American alligator.

"Here ya go, my baby Blossom~ Your favorite chicken and waffles~" Florida dropped a drumstick into the chomping jaws of her cold-blooded swamp cat, attracting strange looks from tourists while restaurant staff continued to work like this was business as usual.

Georgia did her best to put up with all this unnecessary drama surrounding their table, feigning a face of composure while calmly sipping her iced tea. After a while, she cleared her throat slightly, getting the Floridian's attention. "I suppose you're feelin' a lot better after everything that happened at the beach club last night."

"Ah, yeah..." She blushed. "About that, I didn't cause too much trouble, did I?"

"Not much, darlin'..." Georgia muttered with sarcasm, recalling the chaotic events of that night. "Promise me you won't binge drink like that again, alright?"

"Sure, but I was in a hurry to get my fill of drinks before the midnight curfew."

"Well, I was in a hurry to get you out of there before you jumped into the pool in your birthday suit." She pouted. "Lest you'd forgotten what happened afterward, you should know I had the displeasure of carrying your drunken butt to bed and cleaning up the trail of burk you left in your house afterward."

"You cleaned up my burk?" She groaned into the palms of her hands, covering her face in deep shame. "Ugh... You shouldn't have, Peaches..."

"Oh, but I did..." She sipped her iced tea. "You owe me big time."

"Yeah..." She smiled sheepishly. "How about I treat you to a vacation in the Bahamas? Does December of next year sound good?"

"Um..." Georiga raised a brow. "Why there, and why December of next year?"

"Ah, well, you see ... I got tickets to Fyre Festival II, so—"

"You did not." She glowered, unamused by what she thought was a joke.

"Oh, but I did." Florida provided evidence on her phone, proving it wasn't just any random joke—it was a bad one that put her sanity into question.

"Please do yourself a favor and get a refund," Georgia advised.

"Why? The tickets were cheap to get early."

"Girl, it's a scam."

"How would know that?"

"Seriously? Do you not know better? Do you not even remember the foolery that happened at the first Fyre Festival?"

"Uh..." Florida mumbled, trying to recall fuzzy memories from seven years ago. "I think ... we had lots of fun despite it being a short vacation."

"No. Not at all. Think again."

"Huh? Was I wrong?" She scratched her head confused.

"Do you remember sleeping on a soaked mattress in one of the disaster relief tents?" Georgia hinted.

"Uh..."

"My bag was stolen that night. Remember that dumb incident?"

"That happened to you?" Florida cocked her head.

"Please tell me you remember us getting locked inside the airport, sleeping on the lobby floor without access to food, water, and air conditioning."

"Um... We still had fun, right?"