A couple of years ago, my husband and I were on holiday in Florida. At that time, my husband still smoked. Fear not, I put an end to that avenue of pleasure shortly after the holiday. As we perused the shops on a wander through mall after mall, we stumbled upon a store which appeared from the doorway to sell all things tobacco related. From memory, the premises was fifteen by thirty feet but was most definitely staffed entirely of people aged at least seventy.
Bored out of my mind, I followed my husband into the shop, past the wire racking inside the front door. It hadn't registered with me as I entered the premises that the shelving was facing away from those looking in from the outside.
As we made our way around the walls in an anti-clockwise direction (I've no idea why I still recall the route we took), I glanced at tobacco, pipes, boxes of cigars, sporadically saying hello to the septuagenarian shop workers until once more, I reached the front door.
Only at that moment did I see the full extent of the merchandise on sale, strategically placed away from innocent eyes. The wire racking feet from the shop front was full of porn.
I will admit that it slightly threw me. America is a land of enterprise and opportunity so why not sell someone a pipe and something to while away the evening between smokes? That wasn't the part that caused me to stop and take stock.
The thing that will always stick in my memory was the handwritten sign suspended above the porn that read 'If you don't see what you require please ask a server.'
Is this why so many Brits go to to Florida for their holidays?
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