Think you’d be disappointed. Sure, there are some unsavory elements of society that draw down our numbers. Yes, we’re sorta a Navy town, and we tolerate them because we understand that you don’t want to encourage original thinking among the trigger pulling classes. But thankfully most are retired into a beery haze of glory daze. And on Election Day there are precincts that consist of servicing nothing but miles and miles of wheelchair vans from the exclusive Elephant Graveyards, parading trunk to tail circus-style to bring the wheezers and geezers to vote. Last election about half the vans’ rolling stock insisted they wanted to vote for Reagan (mental competence isn’t a prerequisite to vote in Virginia, or to be a Conservative anywhere.) But, in truth, you seldom encounter them the rest of the year. This time of year, however, Virginia Beach blooms into her frangipani scented glory as Margaritaville-North: she’s all beach bums and bars, booze and bongs, beaches and boobs, boats and sticky bed sheets…and that’s just the cops. You should bring the family see the parade of college kids along Atlantic Ave. Bring the boys, they need an education. ;->