It’s been a week now since we sold the boat and headed up to Panama City Beach in Florida’s panhandle. Getting all the stuff we wanted to keep off the boat and into the Mustang was an exercise in creative packing worthy of its own reality tv show.
Question: Is it called the panhandle because it’s shaped like the handle to a really weird-shaped frying pan or because people are sitting on the streets panhandling for change so they can catch a flight out of here to somewhere sunny? I’m going with option two.
This is the view the day we arrived.
And, this is the view every day since.
Right now there is a storm of epic proportions sweeping along the coast. I feel like I’m in a “lightning storm from space” (which is a really neat segue into a conversation about the new Chris Pine movie “This Means War” but that’s for another day.)
On the bright side, we’re not on the boat while this anomaly is happening. That would have been totally miserable. However, with a super wacky-themed miniature golf arcade every 100 feet along the main drag and tick-tacky shops waiting to be explored, this weather has ensured that Florida is forever off our travel list.
Once I got the wi-fi sorted (which took much complaining to the owner…so much that he finally caved and gave me the password to the OWNERS portal, not the wussy GUEST HOTZONE…which was tepid at best) I did some googling and found that this part of Florida gets the most rain out of the entire state. Especially in February. Yes, we could have gone somewhere else but this was the cheapest and one of the only available units anywhere. Just because we sold our boat doesn’t mean we are rolling in the moolah. That money is to fund some much needed renovations back home (for things like insulation, putting in a real shower and replacing the 35-year-old water pump to the well) and, if we plan it just right, a trip to Italy next year. Oh…and for something called “old age.”
Speaking of old age…one of the other reasons we booked this condo was with the hope (it does spring eternal) that we’d run into some slightly younger people. Imagine my disappointment when I found out there’s even more of the old buggers here than in Ft. Pierce…only with less money. And, because of the weather, extra cranky. We went out for a walk yesterday when the weather took a breather and not one smile. Just a lot of unusual color combinations and extra-white sneakers trudging up and down the beach. It’s kind of depressing. Not that I’m against old people…heck, I hope to be one someday. But, when that day comes, I’ll be flashing my dentures at everyone I meet, martini in hand…wearing really tight skinny jeans. (AARP says if you’re over fifty, you’re not allowed to wear skinny jeans. Or use the word “panties.” Just what are you supposed to call those things that cover your butt cheeks…granny pants? These are the same people who say you shouldn’t walk around with a toy dog of any breed in your purse…okay, I’m with them on that one.)
In hindsight, we should have planned to be here during March Break, when the beach goes crazy with juiced up, bikini-clad university students (excuse me while I hand the Mister a tissue) and lots of little kids running buck-naked into the waves. Not that I’d be taking pictures of all that insanity since the lens on my Nikon seems to be on the fritz so I’m just using my iPod camera and the battery life on that thing is about a long as it’s taken me to write this post.
Has all this been negative enough for you? Yes? Then my job is done. Actually, I should give credit where credit is due. Now that I have a fast Internet connection, I’ve managed to catch up on Shouts from the Abyss and his backlog of posts. That guy is a negativity genius! I’ve found the snark and it feels good!
So, I’m back and will be blogging on a more regular basis. This blog break is over.