"Remember the Alamo" - Southern States  DAY 9 - Sun., 17 March 2002   Happy St. Patrick's Day

As hard as this is to admit, this was a mostly driving day... so the tale is as short as my own.  We awoke (after shutting the alarm off at 5:23 a.m.) at 5:48 a.m. for the last time, and gathered our things.  Given the rude response from the desk guy last night about early departures (you'd think no one ever left before they opened the lobby at 7 a.m. before us), we left the key in the room, and were quickly in the car and fueling the Green Spam Can.  20 minutes from when the feet (both webbed and non-webbed alike) hit the floor to the tires meeting the interstate, less than 30 minutes.  We rock.

In looking at the map, both to see what sights were worth sighting to me, and the reality of the distance to be traveled, we did a pass-through on many cities... which means simply that we drove under the sign and the boy snapped a picture as I drove (or vice versa, of course).  We managed to then "visit" Venice, Sarasota, Tampa and Orlando, Tallahassee, and Niceville before we finally arrived in Pepsi-Cola Pensacola.  In looking at the sign, do you get the sense as to why I liked this place immediately?  We'd also passed back from the Eastern to Central time zone at 1:08 p.m. (EST) / 12:08 p.m. (CST), which is just one milestone in the journey home.  Yes, I feel a little like Major Tom... tell my wife... never mind, no wife.

While the Pensacola shoreline was lovely, I felt there was more to it.  Indeed, we'd have to go to Pensacola Beach, which meant tubby needed to pony up $1 to pay the bridge toll.  Strangely, he was glad he did once we got to the toll booth.  Instead of the dull state employee types we've all seen working toll booths, our money-taking chick was, first of all, a girl, brunette, green eyes, engaging smile.  It was a quality interaction, and one we felt we didn't even need a receipt to remember.  And with that, we drove to the beach.  (Can't imagine how people know where it is.)

There was a pier extending into the ocean for maybe 100 yards, but it had two obstacles.  The first was it was a toll pier -- get outta here, but yes.  The second was the restriction on both pets and animals.  Either way you slice up my role on this earth, it meant I was as outlawed as alcohol between the passage of the 18th Amendment and the introduction of the 21st Amendment.  I settled on having my photo taken overlooking the beach instead, which was free, and apparently, not offensive to other beach-goers.  

Given their job is knowing the beach, the people and the native animals, you'd think the lifeguards would park their truck in a manner to protect it from the birds... nope.  Then the boy utters the words that now frighten me:  "Stay here, I'll be right back."  Well, five minutes and some expelled annoyance later, I have learned to no longer to along with his ideas.  To a small extent, I blame each and every one of you out there for this... had more of you asked for those damn cups, he wouldn't have several dozen in his car for his amusement.

I finally got out of the hole and decided to go for a walk.  Since I chose not to speak to the boy for a while, he was stuck to track me in any manner he saw hit... he apparently figured out my footprints, though.  We were heading out as the fog was rolling in like a softball team descending on the pizza joint after a game, and before we got back to the car, the Pensacola Beach ball was getting hazy.  This, of course, wasn't before we had to wait for a bus load of visitors to load back up into their bus.

It appeared that maybe half of all visitors were with their parents (given the number of apparent families separated by the mandatory 10 paces), and that many of the pre-teens (girls in particular) were walking with difficultly, apparently focusing on proper posture for some reason or another.  We passed two separate Hooters restaurants before settling on one elsewhere, staffed by marginally interesting local girl types, but whose looks or conversational banter do not warrant further attention.  We settled into our cramped but inviting Motel 6 room (a mere $30 with tax, versus last night's travesty), and am now waiting for The Simpsons to start... and I get to see it an hour before most people I know.  :)

Tomorrow, Mobile, Alabama, Biloxi, Mississippi, New Orleans and Baton Rogue, Louisiana, and we'll probably stop for the day in either Beaumont or Houston, Texas.  And now, observations about the last few states (Florida, Georgia, and the Carolinas):

• Mardi Gras beads are huge, when hung by the rear view mirror.  Handcuffs are a close second; not sure the reasoning behind either, really... but if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
• There is more obvious smoking here than back in California.  While I haven't seen kids smoking like at home, I haven't seen kids, either -- let's face it, 95% of my travel time is during school days, and I don't go near schools.  (They have very strictly enforced speed limits.) 
• The bumper sticker seen yesterdays struck me as very self-righteous:  Caution: In case of rapture, this vehicle will be unmanned.  For the 75% of you who were like me, and thinking a "rapture" is a type of dinosaur, it's actually reflective of a branch of Christianity who believes that at the second coming of Jesus, they will be taken, body and soul, into the kingdom of heaven... basically, the concept of that really crappy Kirk Cameron film in early 2001, "Left Behind."  I'm no theology expert, so I may have missed the finer points, but that's basically the concept.  The fact that this woman felt fit to stick this on her aqua-blue Ford Astro van spoke volumes of how much more holy she is than I.  Silly woman... more fun here, anyway.  (Then various web search results didn't explain it any better than did I, I don't think.)
• I don't like humidity... okay, this one is mostly focused on Florida.
• I've discovered that I'm not as interested in the overly tan girls, which means I'm in the wrong state.  But to be that tan, before the first day of spring, just seems wrong somehow.