Sometimes, when you live in Florida, you get eaten by alligators or other Floridians. Other times, you awake to the smell of an ocean ruined by algae that no politician can figure out where it came from, even though it comes from the sugar processing plants in the Everglades. Occasionally, you know you left your superstar basketball player right there in Miami, and then he is not there anymore.
But once in a while, you get roused from bed by a stanced Honda with giant subwoofers blasting out Hair Metal power ballads. (I swear I am not making this up.)