But here’s where it gets weird. My life has started to synchronize eerily with The Truman Show. Remember how Truman lived in Seaside, Florida—a perfectly curated, facaded town? Well, I live in Clearwater, FL, which I’ve heard on good authority inspired Seaside itself. Downtown Clearwater has been transformed into a surreal members-only zone. A certain organization has bought up countless properties, given them pristine facades, and yet… it all feels staged. Every day, I drive past these edifices that look real but aren’t, and it’s hard not to feel like I’m on a movie set—because it actually inspired the movie set.

And then there’s my commute. Truman feared his bridge, but mine? Mine is something else entirely. When I can, which is most of the time, I take the 49th Street Bridge—an expansive, stunning stretch of water connecting East Bay/Roosevelt to Highway 60. Three lanes in each direction, room for two more, and a panoramic view that puts Seaside’s quaint little overpass to shame. It’s big, it’s beautiful, and it’s the kind of bridge you’d expect if reality itself wanted to one-up fiction.

Yesterday morning, as I left my place, I turned and waved to my neighbors—seven people, three dogs, and the squirrel family that lives in the old oak tree, all congregated outside: "Good morning! And if I don’t see you later, have a good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight!"

Then I took the long way across the bridge in my Cadillac, logged in, and handled the usual flow of calls. At lunch, I drove back across the bridge in my Cadillac to take my dogs for a walk, and all those same neighbors, dogs, and squirrels were out again. As always, I waved and, with a nod to The Truman Show, intentionally gave my signature farewell: "If I don’t see you again, have a good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight!"

And then I got to drive back to work, in my Cadillac, to do it all again.

But don’t get me wrong—while Truman grew discontented when he learned the truth about his reality, I’ve lived in all sorts of realities, and I can confidently say this one is my favorite. While I wouldn’t say I’ve taken the blue pill (Matrix fans, you know what I mean—not vitamin V!), I’ve seen enough of the red pill side to appreciate that I live in a structured, predictable world, surrounded by familiar faces.

I mean, I have the most beautiful park in the universe to visit every day—quite possibly the actual Garden of Eden. Don’t believe me? Look it up! Sometimes you don’t know to look until you stumble across an offhand comment like this. Go ahead: research whether Florida could be the Fertile Crescent. Check out the hundreds of ancient ship ballast stones littering the waterways of Pinellas County, FL. Did you know the Florida orange is a nutritionally complete fruit you can survive on? (Seriously, look it up!) And of the 28 species of trees mentioned in the Bible, 27 have been found here in Florida—including the only known “Gopher Wood.”

So yes, I live in the smallest land mass county in Florida, but it turns out to be the most interesting. And if that wasn’t enough, think about this: Pinellas—Pineal (gland—psychic—clearwater—going clear?)… see the connection? And if you ever wondered where Pinellas County got its name, now you might have an idea—it could be tied to the Pineal Gland.

Then I realized:
a) I’m in The Truman Show—but hey, it gets better.
b) I’m in the Garden of Eden, and I go there every day with my pups. And I’ve been going there every day for the last seven years without even realizing it.

How cool is that?!