We caught the redeye flight out of San Francisco International Airport Sunday night and wound up back in Ft. Lauderdale at 7:30 Monday morning. Stepping out of the subzero environs of the FLL baggage claim area, we were immediately scooped up into the clammy, overwrought embrace of a rainy South Florida morning. The surly Lyft driver eyed us warily while we loaded our own luggage into the trunk of his Nissan Altima. An unhelpful fellow, he apparently wasn't feeling too chatty, either, since during the drive home, he remained grim-faced and silent. Welcome home, boys. I didn't mind, really, since it'd been a day or two since I'd gotten any sleep and my thought processes weren't up to formatting complete sentences anyway. On the whole, I'd rather be back in San Francisco. It's cool there, and by cool , I mean it in every sense of the word. Of course, the ungodly heat here is a given: if you haven't had the (dis)pleasure of experiencing a South Florida su