A Post to Rival the Trip Itself

To disclaim, this is not a post of debauchery or hedonism in Seminole country. Oh, that it were, but unfortunately for those of us who like-a da nightlife, this was a family vacation. Damn! I at no time got to dance naked around a bonfire beneath a full moon with Dionysus or "penetrate the evening that the city sleeps to hide".

As always, Mr. Mojo Risin' said it best, but as I recall, there was that infamous Miami concert incident in which Morrison was arrested for "lewd and lascivious acts". So, there definitely was a potential there, but maybe that's just Miami.

Sadly, I was separated from that mecca of all nightspots by a pennisula of swampland, alligator infestation, sinkholes, and, more dangerous still, a formidable skirmish line of Mickey Mouse horseshit. Can't you just see me trying to make a break for it and wade through the armies of family-friendly entertainment to reach the promised land on the other side, only to be clothes-lined by Mickey and having to watch from the ground helplessly as he orders his legions of loyal pre-schoolers to close ranks and rip me to shreds. I'd die within sight of it, hearing the strains of "rhythm is gonna get you", praying that Gloria Estefan would come to my rescue.

That might make for a good bedtime story to scare kids straight, though. "Mickey has a temper, son. Don't cross him."

Anyway, the festivitites started with a trip to Lake Charles, Louisiana, or as I like to call it, Lake Vegas. Afterall, there is only one thing to do there, and it ain't getting married by an Elvis impersonator. So, we left late Friday, and this was as far as we could get. Wanting to break up the drive was a conscious decision since we had an 80-year old in tow.

Upon arrival, they immediately circled the wagons (we were on an indian reservation, hehe) and crashed for the night. I preferred to go and get "scalped" by the casino until 9 a.m. the next morning. I'll spare you the bitchy commentary of how hands were won and lost, but as macho bullshit goes, I can do no wrong at a poker table ;) Leave it to the others to f-up my cabbage patch though. :D I was up, I was down, I came back, etc., etc. I ended a seven hour stretch $100 down. :(

The next day was all drive. Just a long, caffeine-fueled highway hypnosis, hugging the coastline with a stop at a motel in Florida's panhandle. Wake up and end it all with another six or seven hours to the Largo/St. Petersburg area.

We had a condo there on Gulf Boulevard, not very far from Clearwater Beach, and it was very near (maybe 4-5 miles) a condo my grandmother had lived in for several years after my grandfather passed away. And as if it needed to be proven that my grandmother has more drawing power than the rest of us Texans combined, the condo was to serve as a hub from which relatives and friends from the state could descend to see her, the matriach. We also had a few wayward tourists from across the Pond. They wandered in accidentally, but they were looking for washing machines or leasing offices, not her. The nerve! :p

It was evening by the time we made it in that day. My mother decided that we needed to stock up for the stay, so we went to a local grocery store to by $150 dollars worth of supplies. She would call them "necessities" at the time, much of which would eventually become charity when we were cleaning up to leave.

That night Aunt and Cousin #1 came over. They are local residents, very close at hand, and we spent the evening catching up with them and not doing much else.

The next day was proof that it's difficult to get people to act in unison. I awoke late, just about the time my mother was declaring fuck-all and that she was going to the pool (which was 50 yards from the beach. :p ) My grandmother was biding her time (she can't stay out in the heat anyway) until the early afternoon. My 2nd Cousin from the Keys and her daughter, 3rd Cousin from Orlando, were expected in around then. Aunt re-arrived alone with bathing suit, only to find that Grandma was not ready to go out, so we wiled away the afternoon until the aforementioned stragglers arrived. Before they did, we received a visit from a couple that my Grandma had lived by when she hailed from Lakeland. They had moved to condo just across the street from hers in the area before she came to Texas.

In the evening, we had our first chance to go out. Gulf Boulevard is a great strip of real estate in the midsts of a construction glut. There was quite a bit of it going on while we were there, and it marred the landscape somewhat. Nevertheless, it has a great selection of nightlife and restaurants. When deciding where to go eat, I revelled in acting stupid and getting to say, "How's the seafood around here?" :p

We ended up at a local dive that was fashioned after one of Hemmingway's old haunts down in the Keys. We got to see the sun set into the Gulf while we ate. It was lively. There was eight of us all told (Mother, Grandma, Aunt, Cousin #1, her fiance, 2nd Cousin, 3rd Cousin, and myself). The wine flowed like... uh, wine, I guess.

Next day was more of the same, meaning that it was more about family reunion than about sight-seeing or lounging around on the beach. We had a departure. 3rd Cousin was off to the Keys to meet up with her husband for lobstering season activities. And we had another arrival, Cousin #2. She flew down from her home and hubby in Chicago to join in the mayhem. We spent that evening home, ordering pizza and hanging out at the condo.

The next day was Universal Studios for Mother, Cousin #1, and myself. It was about an hour and a half drive both ways. We had a great time. For those not familiar with Universal Studios, it is mostly rides, shops, exhibits, and merchandising, etc. designed around a select group of Universal's movie slate. The Back to the Future ride was a highlight, along with an ironically very-funny showcase of horror movie make-up and effects. Terminator and Twister were good as well.

We had gotten away free and clear all day without over-exerting Cousin #1. You see, she suffers from spina bifida and needs the use of a cane to help her walking. Unfortunately, the luck did not last. We entered The Return of the Mummy ride with just a bit to much good fortune and were blinded-sided by a full-blown rollercoaster in the bowels of a building that concealed it from view.

If little flags were going up, we all missed them. Most of the other rides, with the exception of Back to the Future had been mild. She skipped that one because she was aware of the rather violent shimmying and shaking that went with it. She took a chance on Men in Black, and it turned out to be no sweat. I think we all got a little bit too confident.

The ride started out fine, slowly progressing through mocked-up catacombs. Oooo, the mummy is gonna get you. That sort of thing. Suddenly, the car rotated ominously, slipped backwards and down into a kind of holding area (basically analogous to the barrel of a gun), then began to work its way up the stereotypical rollercoaster inclined ramp. God help us.

The rollercoaster itself only lasted thirty seconds or so, but it was about the most terrifying thirty seconds of my life. Not for myself, it was a thrilling ride though, but for Cousin #1. I was just praying we got out of there without her being hurt. So, after many a twist and turn, it came to a stop. Relieved, Mom and I both turned to Cousin #1 to see if she was okay. Unfortunately, it was all a deception, the ride had a good 10 seconds or so of more track to blast us through before it was really done with us.

When we exitted, Cousin #1 seemed more in a state of shock than pain. The pain was there, but the foreknowledge of it was probably the most traumatic aspect. She seemed stunned and needed a long break of sitting before we could make our way out of the park. She was a trooper though and good-naturedly endured an I Love Lucy exhibit before we headed back to the coast again.

As a footnote, we relaxed in the exit hall of the ride before exitting the building. Cousin #1 got her strength back. We missed the opportunity to see pics they took of us that they were trying to pawn off on everyone at probably some ridiculous price. It's a good thing we did, too. I don't think I could bear to see a pic of myself looking like I'm about to crap my pants out of fear for my cousin. It's comforting to know that the other passengers in our car probably bought them and will save them for posterity. Future generations can have a good laugh, not knowing what we were going through.

That night, seven of us went out to eat and watch an on-again off-again boyfriend of another 3rd Cousin of mine perform. Cousin #1 survived the day and still came out despite our thinking that she might not. Ironically, the one casualty was actually my mother. She was having an unpleasant allergic reaction around her eyes to some topical concoction she was using and, so, stayed home.

One-Man-Band-Stan (not his actual name) really does put on a show. I'd seen him once on a previous trip, and as a guitar picker myself, I really enjoy a virtuoso performer. He mixes his own background music, and through the course of this show in particular, he sang and accompanied himself with no less than an electric guitar, alto saxophone, and a violin as the songs required. Boilerplate stuff, mostly crowd-pleasers. Still, him performing in restaurants is a sad testament to pop music priorities these days.

Almost there, folks. The last day was another adventure away from the coast. This time we all traveled to Lakeland for a trip down memory lane. We all visited my grandfather's grave and went to see the house they had lived at while residing in Lakeland. We spent a few hours after that at a doctor's office. My mother had scheduled a visit to deal head on with the allergic reaction she was having.

In the evening we went to a small get-together at the condo of my grandmother's friends, the ones that had visited us briefly on the first full day we were there. Afterwards, the "kids" (if you can call any of us that now that the youngest, myself, is about to turn twenty-eight) went out to see a band that Cousin #1 and her fiance were familiar with. It was a very up-tempo cover band that put on a good show. Unfortunately, we needed to return to the condo for good-byes before the train pulled out the next morning for home. So, just at the first opportunity to get really out of hand, we had to pack it in.

Next morning we cleaned the apartment and were off. I can see us fishtailing at the turn west towards home, peeling the highway up with our g-forces a la every roadrunner cartoon you've ever seen. Scorching the Florida heat with our speed, in a big damn hurry to get back to the Texas heat we all know and love, being shat on by thunderstorms at regular intervals the whole way back, probably stuff coming off the Gulf.

A trip that started with a casino wouldn't be complete unless it ended with one, too, right? Our last stay-over was in Biloxi. This time, my mother and grandmother would not be denied. They played for several hours while I wandered off to find the poker tables again. See if this sounds familiar... "I'll spare you the bitchy commentary of how hands were won and lost, but as macho bullshit goes, I can do no wrong at a poker table ;) Leave it to the others to f-up my cabbage patch though :D I was up, I was down, I came back, etc., etc. I ended [another] seven our stretch $100 down :( " Every six months or so, it's gotta happen. All told I'm still playing on winnings from better poker trips, but this one was not meant to be.

To paraphrase Hunter S. Thompson for an outro, "There was only one road back to [Houston], US Interstate [10], just a flat-out high-speed burn through [Lake Charles] and [Beaumont] and [Anahuac]. Then on to the [Houston highways] straight into frantic oblivion: safety, obscurity. Just another freak in the Freak Kingdom."

You should hear "Jumpin' Jack Flash" right about now. That post was a trip in itself. Thanks for taking the ride :)

(Editted for content? You've gotta be out of you're freaking mind, I feel like I just gave birth) :o