“Stay out of my vacation!”

I haven’t seen an advertisement in five whole days. Not a one. It’s not like there aren’t any TVs or magazines or Internet at the Ganesvoort Hotel in Turks & Caicos. I just haven’t been paying attention to them.

The New York Times is handed to me each morning at breakfast, a faxed version, free from ads of any kind. A nice touch, I kind of like it that way. The kids watch TV in the morning and at bedtime but I don’t. Yes, I put on ESPN or CNN during my morning visit to the gym but I only glimpse at it during moments of weakness. Or when they flash a score. (I like knowing athletes are doing their thing when I’m doing mine.) Even the NCAA basketball tournament barely holds my attention. I think the Badgers lost but I don’t know. Maybe I’ll check ESPN’s website. Maybe. I hear they passed healthcare.

On one of my now infrequent tweets, I noted that my head feels like a conch shell left out on the beach. It’s true. The noise of civilization is being replaced by the sounds of waves lapping up on the beach, people chattering from the tiki bar, that odd sort of music you hear beside the pool –Sade is it? Under these conditions the first thing to go is my advertising radar. It’s like the conch shell has a built in Tivo. Ads go bye bye.

You’re thinking: it’s your vacation, asshole! Of course you’re not thinking about ads. You’d be crazy to think about ads on your vacation.

Not so fast. I’m writing this aren’t I? I’m not abandoning my blog. That I cannot do. It is as crucial to my vacation sanity as a good book to read. I’m thinking it’s not the same thing as work. Not for me anyway.

My brother, Jeremy, who has just joined us with his family, is not so quick to let it all go. From bits I’ve overheard, he’s been on the phone with people in New York and Seattle discussing the latest spots they’re doing for Microsoft. Did you know, that in addition to creating campaigns for the tech giant, he also serves as the voiceover for Bing? Nice work if you can get it. I kidded him about doing a phone patch from the pool. Seriously, I’m proud as hell of the man. He does a great job.

I hope and trust that he will be able to stop doing a great job, for at least a few days. I’m thinking he will. Tropical air and the smell of conch fritters does things to a man. Come tomorrow he’ll be just as stupid as me. Let’s hope.

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