At the end of the Everglades, there is a little town that serves as the place to rest before turning around and driving back across the last unsettled swamp left in South Florida 

A town once tempted into disgrace by the powdery white devil that vexed much of the state in decades past and clinged on a curse smitten with the nostrils of New Yorkers so foolish as to flee the cold. 

Today, those days are faint memories for the charming, half abandoned little hamlet, but nonetheless I found myself there with something else staring back at me from my plate. Alligator tail, fried and from a food truck. It was as good a place to die as any other I had been. 

Strange Vignettes from a Long Past and Often Missed Time. 

That tail tasted so good, like chicken and calamari. But like all things, it has come and gone. Life moves on.