Jeff Davis lives in Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania, the Gateway to the Poconos. Among other things, Davis worked as a bartender at the Little Tiger Cocktail Lounge, a cushy little watering hole on the edge of town. The only hint of life in the place after midnight came in the form of a lopsided neon beer sign that hung in a musty window. "A customer named Dave walked in one night," Davis recounts. "He wore a red tied that looked like it went through a meat grinder. He hated his job and had issues with his wife and daughter." "It isn't that I don't love my family," Dave jiggled the ice in his drink and then frowned. "I just can't stand them." Davis said, "I never saw Dave again, but it wouldn't surprise me if one morning on his way to work, he took a detour to Philadelphia International and escaped to some steamy beach in the South Pacific from his job and family, to a place they'd never find him. For those of us who have staked a claim in that little corner of the world, this book is about 6:00 a.m. alarms and freeway tie-ups. It's about deadlines and overdue marketing reports. It's about boorish husbands, loutish wives, and yes, even falling in love. It's about that island in the sun, where every so often, we all need to escape. It's about you and me.