Blog#34-Out of Florida to Gulf Shores, Alabama

I took my kin to the Tampa airport so they could fly home. We had some time to stop at a park near Venice Beach and Amelia and Brian were able to see a gopher tortoise in the wild.  Old hat for me now…yawn:)

Near Venice Beach

I got a bit teary when I kissed Brian goodbye–Amelia was quick to remind me that I’ll see him soon.  Still… it was so very good to have him with me to share some of these places.  I wish he could have stayed a full week.

I drove to Dunnellon, Florida, north of Tampa, where I had an inexpensive hotel booked-The Dinner Bell Hotel.  It was not plush, but it was clean and comfortable. And incredibly, had a free washer and dryer. (I noticed that the next day as I left, with my full sack of dirty clothes). I asked the manager where I could get pizza, because I had a craving for Canadian bacon or ham and fresh tomato. He said “There’s a Pizza Hut and a Domino’s”. I asked for something not a chain, and he referred me to a place, saying, there’s a place that makes good subs and pizza, “They’ve been in business for about 50 years”, he said, which I inferred meant they must be doing something right.

Come to find out, it was partially right. Crust was so-so, tomato sauce was quite good-tasted like fresh tomatoes-but too sweet for my taste. It was like tomato sauce in Equador or Costa Rica. The mushrooms were out of a can. Edible.

Ryan? Is that you?

I chose Dunnellon because it is near Crystal River, where the manatees winter over near the warm springs. I was going to go the next morning to the Crystal River area to a park where I could go out on a boardwalk that overlooks the crystal clear water with the manatees fully visible. I called to get time schedules and learned that the manatees have left the spring area and moved into King’s Bay. Now visibility is just like Jensen Marina. Okay, give that a pass.

Got up the next am and met a woman in the parking lot while I was getting organized for camping again. Car being transformed back into bedroom/office/kitchen. She was out by her car, having a smoke and eyeing the car transformation process. She was staying at the hotel and working locally on the pipeline pump station. She said she travels around the US doing this specialty work. She was from Louisiana, so I asked her for recommendations for  alternative routes back across to Alabama. She said I was stuck with Hwy 10, at 75mph. I decided to just get it behind me and was able to book a campsite in Buccaneer State Park, on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi near Waveland. She was impressed that I had been traveling so far on my own, in my car camp. “You go, Baby!” she said.

On this adventure, I have been called “Ma’am” by the Southerners, “Mom”, by the Asian women, “Girl” or “Sugar” by the black women. That was a first for “Baby.” I think the “Sugar” is the most fitting.

No pilot car. Typical of the south. We have sooooo many more laws in Oregon.

Remembering that I was 3 hours ahead of Oregon, I waited a while before calling Brian at work to hear how the trip home went. He informed me that he had lost his wallet-probably in Seattle when he was rushing to make his connection and pulled out his boarding pass. He realized the loss when he reached Redmond, but was not allowed to go back and look in the plane. He was waiting until 0800 Bend time to call Alaska Airlines. No Bueno.

My car interior had some vibrations going on, so I pulled off the highway at an exit to a wildlife refuge.  There was a sign posted stating that I would be on private property while driving to the refuge, and that was all I was allowed to use the road for.  That was the second refuge that I had visited that crossed private land with owner permission only for the passage.

I got out of my car and was looking for the source of the noise, when a pickup truck with an older couple pulled up next to me.  The truck looked to be a rancher’s rig. Uh oh. I figured these were the property owners, telling me to move on to the refuge or get off their land. Au contraire, they simply stopped to ask if I was in trouble and needed help. Sweethearts.

Southerners are good folk.

I drove back to Big Lagoon State Park outside Gulf Shores and was bummed to learn that they were full. I stayed here for 2 nights just last month. I thought we were friends…

They did give me a list of the closest alternative campgrounds, and all that I could reach were full. I decided to go back to my Greek gyro place in the area where I knew the food was excellent, and was disappointed to find their food coach was gone and only an empty lot remained.

Flor Bama on the beach

So I went to the Flor Bama.

Brian called to say that Alaska Airlines had his wallet-everything, including cash, was still in it. It was in the mechanic’s shop, probably found on the tarmac by one of the workers who do all the grunt work. Whoever found it could have easily pocketted it. A shout out to Alaska Airlines and whoever found it!!  Thank you!!

I did not see Kenny Chesney or Jimmy Buffett at the Flor Bama, but I think the rest of the common folk were there. It was packed, so I sat at the bar. And it was there that I learned I am invisible…to some.

The bartender was a young woman–early 20s at most. Very pretty in tight cut-offs. Unfortunately, she could only turn her head one direction, and it was away from myself and the group of 3 men sitting next to me. Being a nurse and a Clever American Woman, I had to assume she had some sort of torticollis. And she may have been autistic, as she seemed to have a fixation for her computerized till screen. She was only able to do the indepth study of the computer, or simply stand with her back to us.

Her backside was shapely, and the 3 men didn’t seem to be in a hurry for refills.  But eventually, they got her attention. They were enjoying the view, but let’s face it, they wanted more beer. I, sitting next to them, foolishly thought she would now see me. I am not petite. I called out, “Excuse me, could I please get a menu?”

Nope.

She is peripherally blind. And hearing impaired. An equal opportunity employer, the Ole Flor Bama.  20 minutes and I could not be seen nor heard. It was so unbelievable that I found it amusing in a sureal way. The man next to me noticed my predicament, but offered no aid. He had his refill and was back to looking at her butt.

A second bartender came on duty and he was older, wiser, and definitely experienced. I watched his eyes quickly scan all the glasses in front of patrons, and he immediately realized that I had no such glass, empty or half-full. Service at last. And magically, the young woman now noticed me. Mahi mahi tacos coming up, and here’s my diet coke.

I truly think that the girl believed I had only just arrived. I watched as she stood idly while the man went quickly up and down the bar, both sides. I came to suspect that she must be new at the job, because he finally slowed down after seeing to all the customers and spoke quietly to her. She kept nodding and smiling, then did refill some beers. I watched him reach for napkins, roll his eyes, and then go to the stock shelves to refill the napkins.

The tip jar was a communal pot. Boy, I’d be pissed off if I were him.

She’ll be gone by next week.

I ended up at another motel, a Red Roof Inn in Gulf Shores. Just across the highway from Lulu’s (Lucy Buffett’s). Maybe tomorrow I’ll give Jimmy another try.