back at breakers

You know that 1 percent of the world owns 90 percent of it? Well, of that 1 percent, 90 percent of them live in Palm Beach. It is the billionaire island, a place so picture-perfect it is disturbing. When you come here, your senses instantly calibrate to delux intake. But when you leave, and you go back to where you came from, it usually takes at least a week of desperate desolation before you’re back to normal… I am not exaggerating.

But, rite here rite now, back at the legendary Breakers. Oh baby, my home away from home. Fresh strawberries and blueberries for breakfast, perhaps oysters and champagne for lunch, and for dinner? Anything you want, sir. God help me now.

I had a killer year, brought in a lot of business for Sealed Air. This does not go unrewarded; the Winning Performer event is our Oscar. As we lay down for a 110 minute couples massage in what is one of the best spas in the world, I can’t help but think that my job is pretty good… invisible smiley included – you might not see it, but I believe you can feel it. And how can a massage be this good? We are on fluffiest cloud nine.

Another day, another treatment. Madli chooses an enzyme peel. I go for a coffee scrub. Please have mercy. I feel so good I could die.

Breakers1 (Copy)

Breakers2 (Copy)

Breakers3 (Copy)

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Breakers5 (Copy)

The days go by. At the pool, jacuzzi, beach, ocean, shopping, snorkeling, making friends, eating and drinking too much, meeting the new CEO of Sealed Air Corporation, dressed to kill, walking the red carpet to the stage, smoking a Cohiba afterwards, yacht cruising/dinner party at sea. The yacht moored next to ours cost 126mil. You could buy Bangladesh for that. My apologies. We are isolated by golden luxury. This is not the time to feel guilty. I deserved this.

Again we leave The Breakers. Why is it so bloody hard to let go of the room key? Agh!