The Sweatiest Road Trip Ever - Day 11 - Maybe Florida Will Let Us Live. Maybe...

Day 11 - The Final Day In Florida

I work up early and made a cup of coffee to take down to the pool deck for some morning reading.

Not a bad start to the day.

On my way to the pool, I couldn't help but notice the last line on this sign. You had one job, sign guy.
Also, unlike the previous pool, it is apparently okay to swim here if you are ill with diarrhea. Good to know!

After my coffee, I went for a long walk along the beach. The waves had subsided a bit and I notice large, black areas of water near the shore. The ranged in size from a few feet across to 50 or 60 feet across. Because of how well the water in Florida had treated us so far, I naturally waded in to see what sort of sting, bite, puncture, burn, break, rash, or infection I could get.

The black pools were actually huge schools of tiny minnows swirling and swimming near the shore. It was sort of magical to watch and, contrary to Florida maritime law, did not hurt me in any way. I passed a couple who were obviously making their fortune off the fishy phenomenon. Or they were getting dinner. I actually have no idea which.

He had a huge net and was wading into the middle of a school of fish. He slapped the net into the water a few times and brought up a writhing ball of fish. She would run over with a 5 gallon bucket, he'd dump the fish in and she'd empty the bucket into a cooler that was up on the shore.

When the novelty of watching other people work had worn off, I went back to the hotel and we all spent the day at the pool, watching other people work.

The only real excitement of the day was when the maintenance crew descended en masse around the pool, quietly and calmly asking everyone to exit the pool for routine maintenance.

It seemed to us that routine maintenance generally doesn't not occur in the middle of the day while everyone is escaping the heat.

That can only mean one thing.

We eagerly watched the scene. Even though none of the maintenance guys weaved his way across the pool deck clutching a steaming turd in a pair of long-handled tongs, we have our suspicions.

While we waited for the pool to be sanitized and de-pooped, we walked along the beach where Alex continued his practice of flicking beached jellyfish back onto the water so other people could enjoy The Complete Pensacola Experience*.

*Now, 85% stingier!


When the All Clear blew, we spent the rest of the day lounging around in the hopefully poop-free pool.

The pool. Viewed from above. No poops from here! 

The Tiki Bar because, as per Florida law, every establishment, no matter what sort of business it is, MUST have a Tiki Bar on premises.

The menu is cleverly posted along the lazy river. Fiendishly effective!

Eventually, it was time for dinner and since we had dropped the vegetarian off at college, we made a solemn family pact to try as many BBQ places as we could on the way home. We weren't technically on the way home yet, but it seemed wise to get a jump-start on this endeavor.

Because you needed to see my food.

With smoky deliciousness still lingering in our mouths, we headed back to the pool for a night-time swim. It was quiet and warm and wonderfully relaxing. Which is good. 

Because tomorrow, we hit the road again.

The Sweatiest Road Trip Ever - Day 9: The Water is Very Stingy

Day 9 - 

We woke up somewhere. It's all starting to blur.

Tallahassee. That's where we are.

Tallahassee at a hotel. And the hotel has crappy, free coffee, but no free crappy breakfast. You have to pay for the crappy hotel breakfast here.

I staggered to the lobby for a cup of coffee and took it to the outdoor patio so I could escape the incessant horror of morning TV that every hotel is legally obligated to blast at us as we try to enjoy our crappy, free coffee.

I sat down on a seat with my coffee and my book.

Gratuitous photo of my butt. It appears to have rained last night.

After hopping back up out of the soaking wet seat, I went back into the hotel, turned off the TV, blasting Fox news at me, and settled in for a cup of coffee and a bit of reading. My damp shorts reminded me that we desperately needed to do some laundry. The good news is that this hotel did have a guest laundry facility. The bad news is that they didn't have any laundry detergent available.

I turned my socks inside out for the second time and we set off for Pensacola.

We stopped for gas before getting on the highway and Kerri sent Alex in to the gas station on a mysterious mission as I pumped gas.

He came out, staggering under the weight of three brightly colored cardboard boxes, each about the size of a manhole cover.

"Cinnabon!" he announced brightly.

If you have never experienced a Cinnabon cinnamon bun from a gas station in Florida, let me summarize the experience for you:

Ssssssswwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet.

We raced on toward Pensacola and the hope of rum-based beverages and, possibly some insulin to counteract the Cinnabon Sugar Bomb.

This is technically the vacation part of our trip. Tori has been safely delivered to school. She's settled in and things are good. Now we have a few days to relax at a hotel in Pensacola, floating in the lazy river, eating chicken wings, and drinking beverages that stress the umbrella motif.

I'm sure this will clear up before we get to Pensacola.

The weather report says that it's only an 88% chance of thunderstorms. It will clear up. 

This plane at the rest stop looks beautiful against the backdrop of killer thunderstorms.

The weather toyed with our emotions for the entire 4 hour drive, but it had at least stopped raining when we arrived at Pensacola Beach.

Purple Flag = Dangerous Marine Life

Uh, ohhh.

Once in the hotel, the gorgeous lobby afforded us an excellent, panoramic view of the pool and the weather.

Maybe we can get in a quick dip before the hurricane?

In fact, the weather did clear up surprisingly quickly. We got our things into the hotel room and raced out to enjoy some beach time before it started raining again.

The hotel is right on the ocean, with a long, wooden boardwalk that connects the pool area with the white sand of the beach. The sand was clean and soft. The ocean, while very rough, was delightfully warm.

As a native New Englander, I am used to ocean water that actively wants to kill you. It is generally cold to the point of actual pain. The only way to enjoy the water is to power through the pain until you are numb. Then you may enjoy your insensate time in the water.

Not so in Florida. The water is warm and inviting. You can actually walk right in without fear of hypothermia. Alex and I did so. We raced into the water and flopped about in the waves: diving, splashing, and frolicking.

Yes. We frolicked.

And then I asked Alex, "Do you feel like you're getting stung by bees or something?"
"I do, Father" Alex replied. "That is a brilliant observation. I do feel as though I am being stung by something and I think it would behoove us to exit the water and inspect our bodies."

We did.

And that's when we saw all the angry, red welts from the jellyfish stings covering our bodies.

No, I don't have any pictures, you freak.

We calmly made our way to the showers located just outside the pool deck and rinsed ourselves feverishly, trying to make the stinging stop.

It didn't.

Alex ran up to the room to shower and I hopped in the pool and ordered a medicinal Rum Runner because it seemed like the best option available at the time.

Alex was in the room for a long time.

Kerri and I bobbed around in the pool while I bravely took my medicine and tried to recover. "That might explain the purple flag, warning of dangerous marine life," Kerri suggested helpfully.

When Alex did join us again, we said that he had looked up jellyfish stings online and saw that the treatment included NEVER rinsing the stings in fresh water, which only makes it worse.

Now I know.

It didn't mention the effect that Rum Runners have on multiple jellyfish stings, but I can attest that it didn't make them any worse. I'll be submitting a report about my research and my findings to The New England Journal of Medicine soon. History will thank me, I'm sure.

We ordered wings and fries to share by the pool, because it also seemed like that might help alleviate some of the stinging, but when we got the bill ($35 for wings and French fries), the stinging seemed to intensify somehow. Right near my wallet.

We went to a local grocery store and got food for breakfasts and lunches, because nothing says vacation get-away like grocery shopping.

Or doing laundry.

So, naturally, after grocery shopping, we found a laundromat. Kerri and Alex dropped me off with bags of dirty laundry and a pocketful of quarters while they went back to the hotel to put groceries away.

Do we know how to party, or what?

At the laundromat, I was greeted by a gentleman with a can of Bud Light, who warmly welcomed me to the party. I was the only person at the entire laundromat without an open beer and, while I was embarrassed by this social faux-pas on my part, the other guests were cheerful and welcoming.

As I loaded my laundry in the machine, the man who had greeted me, and whom I was now thinking of as the Mayor of the Laundromat stood in the doorway and opened his arms wide. "We got a good looking crowd here, tonight," he announced before staggering toward the dryers. "Hey," he hissed toward me. "When you're ready to dry, use this one. It's a good, hot one."

I thanked him for his helpful advice and stepped outside to admire the evening.

The air was very, very damp.

The Mayor and I discussed the weather briefly. We decided that there's nothing you can do about it. Because we are deep philosophers.

Ten or thirty hours later, Kerri finally pulled into the parking lot and collected me. I bade a fond, tearful farewell to my new friends. The mayor welcomed me back any time. I thanked him and climbed into the van with our clean, rain-soaked laundry.

Back at the hotel, Kerri and I slipped out for a quick swim in the warm night rain. We bobbed along in the lazy river as the rain petered out and the sky gradually cleared. One star, and then another, peeked out and shone down on us as we gently floated around and around and around.

The Sweatiest Road Trip Ever - Day 8 - Escape From Key West!

Day 8 - 

This is me, sweating through my shirt from walking across the parking lot to the van.

It seems I've been complaining a lot lately. The heat. The humidity. The crappy hotel coffee. The crappy hotel breakfasts. The sub-standard Cuban sandwiches.

Well, today we are leaving Key West and I will try to be upbeat and positive, like the ray of sunshine that I am.

On the plus side, this hotel is swanky and fancy so they don't provide any free coffee or breakfast at all.
No crappy hotel coffee or breakfast!
That's nice.

I took an early morning stroll around the hotel to try to get in as much walking as I can before we get in Squanket for many, many hours.
I like walking!
That's nice.

Do not swallow that water... especially if someone is breaking the rule above that.

Nobody who is ill with diarrhea should be in the pool where we swam yesterday!
That's nice.

Because they may be ill with diarrhea.

Nobody was touching or feeding the iguanas!
That's nice.

This was the smallest iguana I have ever seen. Most of them are the size of a kindergartner. 

When I got back to the room after my morning constitutional, Kerri was seated in a Dr. Evil chair, sipping non-hotel coffee.

Her coffee is... Evil!

My wife is hilarious, even first thing in the morning!
That's nice.

We packed up all our things and said goodbye to Key West.

Goodbye lovely view from our room.

Goodbye, untouched and unfed iguana.

Goodbye lovely pool area with nobody who is ill with diarrhea swimming in you. I hope.

Hello, highway.

Alex found a 110v. outlet next to his seat and made himself extra comfortable with a fan that he stole from Tori.

The ride back from Key West was much like the ride down, except in reverse, and with much, much more traffic.

I did suffer one bitter disappointment on the drive back north. I discovered that, somehow, we had missed a trip to Funland.

No, kids. We're not going to Disney. We're going to FUNLAND!

I couldn't figure out what makes it so fun and the mystery still haunts me.

There were other places that we didn't stop, either.

Look! They have antique cars you can drive! That's why it's for adults!

I will be installing one of these in our yard when we get home. Don't tell Kerri. It's a surprise.

I will also be carving some trees to look like these. Another surprise. Shhh!

We opted not to stop here.

Because, seriously - Where is it?!?

We also missed the Shed Stacking World Cup Finals.

And the world famous Beer Can Shorts.

But we did have another chance to see the natural beauty of the Keys.

Speed and crippling depression from seeing what we did to their islands.

Honestly, the rest of the day was spent driving. Or, at times, sitting in the van and not driving because the traffic was so bad.

The big highlight of the day was that, through an effective campaign of whining and sniveling and sobbing, I got Kerri to make a slight detour from the highway as we drove along the outskirts of Fort Lauderdale.

Were we going to pay a quick, surprise visit to Tori to check in on her?
Nooo...


Were we getting off the highway to avoid this guy and his Dangerous Appliance Stacking show?

Noooo...

Did we drive a few short miles out of our way to get another AMAZING CUBAN SANDWICH?

Maybeeeee...

Did Alex turn his nose up at an amazing, fresh Cuban sandwich and, instead, subject his body the horror of a burger from an international chain, specializing in crappy burgers?

Maybeeee...

Did we get stuck in more traffic?

Obviously.

Kerri is a trooper. She drove on, and on, and on, and on.

Past more scenic landfill mountains.

Ohhhh, Mt. Stinky!

Past an assortment of super classy bumper stickers.

Romantic!

Past more attractions that I was not allowed to attend.

Please let me go to Machine Gun America! Look! There are scantily clad blondes there!

Long past a beautiful sunset.

Long into the night, and past the longest stretch of No Parking signs I have ever seen.

Wait - can I park here? Along the highway?

We drove all the way from Key West to Tallahassee. A mere 13 hours in Squanket.

We found a hotel and I slept soundly knowing, because I asked in advanced, that there would be free, crappy, hotel coffee awaiting me when I awoke.

That's nice.

The Sweatiest Road Trip Ever - Day 7: The Departure and the REAL Sweating Begins

Day 7 - 


Not that you really need to know this, unless you are married to me, which most of you are not, but I do not wake up gently.

If I wake up on my own, I am fine. Even an alarm clock tends to be unproblematic, if unpleasant. But if you come up to me while I am sleeping and place a hand on me and gently shake me, I will shoot out of bed like I am being chased by a really ugly duck.

Just ask Tori. Who woke me up like that this morning. And scared the jumpin' be-jeezus out of both of us.

Last night, in an attempt to stave off having to get out of bed this morning, we gave Tori a key to our hotel room. Since she is clinically insane and chooses to jog every morning, we suggested that she could jog over to the hotel and let herself in. Then, we would gladly treat her to a free, crappy hotel breakfast as a fancy way to say goodbye before we leave her alone in Florida for 3 months.

Because we are thoughtful and generous like that.

It appears that the key did not work.

She banged on the door and called Kerri a couple times but, because of a leaky air conditioner in our room, maintenance had installed a powerful and loud fan to attempt to dry the puddle of water that pooled on the carpet.

We heard nothing.

Except the fan, of course.

Tori eventually gave up and sat in the hall outside our room, always keeping a wary eye out for Leonard, the ugly duck of doom.

She banged on the door listlessly a few more times and, somehow, actually managed to rouse Kerri. Kerri let Tori into our room, Tori tried to wake me gently, and we both had to change our undies before heading down to get some crappy hotel breakfast.

All-in-all, a great start to our last day with Tori.

Our breakfast was, it will not surprise you, crappy.

We packed up and drove Tori back to campus to say goodbye.

My eyeballs were sweating and it wasn't even 9:00 a.m.

I'm not crying, that's eyeball sweat.

We watched Tori slowly disappear into the shimmering heat-waves reflecting up from the pavement and then we climbed into Squanket to begin the next leg of our journey: Key West.

Kerri has always had a burning, unquenchable desire to see America's Southernmost Point. I, on the other hand, have a burning, unquenchable desire to stay in Florida for as little time as humanly possible. Naturally, we compromised and did what Kerri wanted.

My only knowledge of Key West comes from songs by The Beach Boys and Jimmy Buffett and books by Carl Hiaasen and Dave Barry. They make it seem like a laid-back, rum-scented tropical paradise populated by quirky eccentrics and roosters.

At least there were roosters.

In case you need a brief refresher, Key West is waaaaaaay, way down at the tip of Florida. You get there by driving down an endless series of bridges, connecting a series of small islands, all of which are covered with trash and run down business districts hoping that you will overlook how filthy everything is if they open a strip club.

I expected a long drive along sparkling beaches. I got McDonalds and drive thru liquor lounges.

No, I'm not exaggerating.

There were parts of the drive that were lovely, but I was seriously shocked by just how dirty and run down most of places along the Intercoastal Highway were.

Truck nuts. Keep it classy, guy.

It will be at least 5 miles before you get to another bar. Plan ahead!

And it begins...

It looks like this for a few thousand miles, but then things get spicy.

No joke. It's so hot here that you need shade in order to cool off in the ocean. Lots of people brought these pop-up tents to cower beneath. 

Parts of it are pretty. From a distance.

Kerri was intent on making good time getting to Key West so there were a few places that, once again, I was not allowed to stop at.

Fancy!

Is THIS the famous welding shop that The Beach Boys sang about?

They accept walk-ins. Hilarious!

The longer we drove toward Key West, the more depressing it got.

Depressing and, occasionally, terrifying. RUN!!

This is not what I thought Key Largo would look like.

The Beach Boys lied to me!

Hey! That looks nice. From a distance.

You and a million other people can watch satellite TV in your RV next to the ocean!

A fun vacation for you and the whole family!

The water along the road was filled with so much trash. It was really sad.

Yummy.

We did, eventually, actually make it all the way to Key West. Our hotel room wasn't ready so, naturally, we climbed back into Squanket and went on a small expedition.


Key West is a great place to sweat, get drunk, and shop. If you had other plans, you might consider any other spot on the entire planet.

We found a parking spot a mile from the end of the country and went exploring.

Alex got a new bathing suit and Kerri got some ice cream.

The meaty lizards lounging in the shade along the sidewalk provided Kerri with a lifetime of trauma. 

We passed the gauntlet of lounging lizards and found a house with a historic placard listing it as the southernmost house in the United States. And then, just a few houses south of that, we came upon a long line of people, indicating that we had arrived.

We didn't know where we were, but it must be good if people were willing to line up in this heat. So, naturally, we lined up for whatever it was.

I know I have mentioned this a number of times, and believe me, the people on the trip with me heard it many, many more times, but it is HOT there. While we waited in line for whatever we were waiting in line for, my kneecaps sweat. It was a slightly alarming experience. A bead of sweat trickled from each kneecap, ran down my shin, and soaked into my already saturated socks.

I thought you need to know about that.

Are we at Disney World?

No, kids. We're at the southernmost point in the U.S. If you squint your eyes, you can see a lot more land, just south of the fence.

It soon became clear that were were waiting in line to take pictures at the southernmost point.

This dude didn't want to wait in line so he stood in the middle fo the road, tying up traffic, for several minutes while his wife posed in all manner of fashionable ways. 

We made it!

People were all wonderfully nice. Everybody offered to take pictures for each other. 

And sometimes we took our own.

We walked around bit more and decided to go back to the hotel before our shoes melted. We passed a few more places that Kerri wouldn't let me stop.

An intimate cafe.

A local small business that I suggested might have air conditioning.

Another local business that I wanted to support.

Roosters! I don't know what all the hype about them is for. I prefer ugly ducks in hotel parking lots. Oh, I miss Leonard.

A pawn shop/tattoo parlor. Why isn't this a thing everywhere?

I don't know why but the repurposed Pizza Hut as a medical office seemed sketchy.

And, again, I was surprised by just how much Key West was not the quiet tropical paradise I envisioned. I still blame the Beach Boys.

They did not

sing about

Key West looking like this.

AH HA!! And now I can tell them in person!

We went back to the hotel and rehydrated in the pool, which was lovely. There was a reggae singer with steel drums playing poolside and it was very relaxing.

After a few hours in the pool, feeling rehydrated and refreshed, we went out to get some dinner. Alex wanted BBQ again and, as we were 90 miles from Cuba, likely as close as I will ever get, I needed...

ANOTHER CUBAN SANDWICH!!

This was listed as one of the best Cuban restaurants in Key West.

And this is how I felt about my sandwich. Let us never speak of it again.

I managed to shake off the existential sadness that my sub-par sandwich caused and we climbed on the hotel's shuttle for a few hours in downtown Key West at night.

Waiting for the shuttle.

Once downtown, it was immediately apparent that the only reason to come downtown was to get staggeringly drunk or shop for tacky tourist stuff.

"Okay," I said, "I'm in."

Hemmingway drank here, so naturally, everyone should.

However, you may also want someplace a bit cozier.

Kerri suggested a bit of shopping.
Again, we compromised by doing what she wanted.

Alex found a candy store with a vast and, at times alarming, selection of candy.

After the candy store, we headed to the world's tackiest souvenir shop, where I felt immediately at home.

The myth..

the legend. Kerri would not let me buy one. 

"But you get a smooshed quarter," I whined. "I want a creepy doll!"

We compromised again. And she let me share her quarter.

Soon - very soon - we had absorbed all the Key West atmosphere we required in this lifetime and we headed back to the shuttle stop.

No seats. Darn it.

Alex was super happy to pose for this. 

We waited for the shuttle, sweating and watching the swirling, drunken masses stagger past. Soon a shirtless man weaved his way over to a woman sitting on the sidewalk in front of us.

"Did you get my shirt?" he asked.
"No," she snapped, not looking up from her phone.
"But, I didn't even do nuthin'. It wasn't even my fault. I didn't do nuthin'."

Maybe he did something. Maybe he didn't do nuthin'. I wasn't there. I don't know.

Whether or not it was his fault will be a mystery that I'll take to my grave.

The shuttle came and whisked us back to the hotel.

Tomorrow (spoiler alert)... MORE DRIVING!