Sat. and Sun. 12/31, and 1/1/2011
My last full day in Orlando was fairly quiet, with one exception which I’ll get to in a moment. The weather today is absolutely gorgeous, about 80 and sunny with just a few puffy clouds in the sky. It’s the kind of weather where you like to call the folks back home (your sister, for example) and brag about how beautiful it is. It’s the type of day that reminds me why I spent the money to come down here in the first place.
Anyway, I grab my Kindle, and head over to the pool, and there are about six other people there, all of them sitting in the full sun. I find a shady spot on the other side of pool and settle into a chaise lounge chair with my can of Diet Coke. It isn’t 10 minutes into my stay, when the security office arrives and checks for wrist bands, and indeed asks one woman who isn’t wearing one to leave the pool area, even though she is apparently with a couple other women ARE wearing wristbands. The others gals don’t make much of a fuss about it, so I guess she wasn’t THAT great of a friend, but my point is that the Villa Medici (VM) “rent-a-cops” are serious about the wristbands. and I guess that’s a good thing, and I’m glad I remembered to put mine on!
The pool setting is serene, and I regret somewhat that I didn’t spend more time here, especially on the weekdays when it probably would have been empty. Oh well, I had places to go and things to see! I think there’s probably a lot of people here who like the IDEA that they have access to pool, but probably spend very little, if any, time here at all. It is one of the few public areas that the VM management people take care of, which cannot be said for the other “communal areas” of the community. When you’re hurting for funds, I guess you have to make choices. So they take care of the pool, but the whirlpool, fitness center, and clubhouse here are definitely the casualties of neglect.
I spend about an hour here, reading Stephen King, then head back to the unit for some lunch. There is a knock at my door, and it is “Dominic,” who is a friend of my landlord’s (Razmik), and he has volunteered to take the key/gatecard/wristbands when I leave for safekeeping to give back to Razmik when he and his family arrive. We make an agreement to meet between 11 and noon the next day, which is as close as I can estimate to my departure time.
After that, I head over to 24 Hour Fitness for one last workout. The first half of the workout goes great, but then I notice the workers are shutting off all the big screen TVs that are mounted around the perimeter of the workout floor, so I go to the front desk to find out what’s up. Turns out they are closing at 6 p.m. in observance of New Year’s, which I think is horseshit, especially since they are re-opening at 6 a.m. the next day. That’s 12 lousy hours. Why bother? So anyway, my workout is cut short. I dash for the pool for a couple of laps to cool off, and sure enough a staffer comes in there and tells me I have to vacate. I do a quick shower and comb my hair as they are, literally, turning out the lights in the locker room. The manager must have a hot date or something tonight. So I get a little short-sheeted on my final workout, but overall I am still very happy with the value I received for my $100 membership. I have visited here 18 times during December, which works out to $5.55 per visit. It’s been a good run.
As much as I want to have one last “big meal out” in Orlando before I go, I know that I have leftovers and the condo that need cleaning up, and I know there is some big eating ahead with the cruise and the move to Fort Myers. So I return to the condo, and finish the remainder of my beef noodle soup, and also have an orange. I start packing up a few things and doing a final load of laundry. It’s New Year’s Eve, but I have never particularly been big on going out to large, crowded, loud, raucous venues where people, mostly amateurs, are swigging down way too much alcohol and believe they are way more witty and charming than they really are. Probably hearkens back to my years as an entertainer and having to endure this annual rowdy-dow. But my hopes for a quiet evening are soon dashed, as things seem to be heating up out in the parking lot at VM. People are milling about, racing back and forth in loud cars and motorcycles with thumper stereos blasting, and setting off fireworks, none of which I’m guessing are legal. It’s like these people are too poor to go out somewhere and be assholes, so they’re doing something akin to an “asshole stay-cation” with the VM parking lot as their playground.
Sleep is very unsettled this evening with the random fireworks, yelling, gangsta music, etc., with the coup de grace occurring at about 3:30 in the morning, when someone lights up what surely must be an M80 (highly illegal in ALL the U.S.) and the resulting boom rattles the condo windows and triggers the alarm on an automobile in the parking lot. My two kitty girls hide for cover, and that is the end of my sleep for this evening. I try in vain to get back to sleep, but finally throw in the towel at about 5:30 a.m. At least I will have plenty of time to pack up the rest of the condo.
No expenses today.
I start Sunday morning with a quick inspection of the Prius to make sure everything is OK, and it is. I don’t think it was anyone’s intention to vandalize last night; just be your garden variety assholes. Whew! Anyway, I return to the unit, strip the bedding and throw all that into the washer along with all the towels that will stay at the unit. I’m sure Razmik (or his wife) will want to wash them again, but ata least I’m doing my duty to leave things as I found them. I prepare a nice breakfast of a fresh grapefruit, and an omelet with celery, green pepper, onion, veggie cream cheese and shrimp. I have some leftover shrimp, so I eat those with cocktail sauce. Pretty much all perishables have now been consumed, with the little bit that remains fitting nicely into to the two little coolers that I brought along.
I run a load in the dishwasher, and start hauling stuff down to the Prius. I believe it takes six trips, with the kitties being the last to go. I am able to sneak up on Phoebe and pop her in the carrier before she knows what’s going on, but Abby is on to me, and has snuck underneath the futon, where I have to drag her out. I input the new address into my GPS, but first head over to Dominic’s unit to hand off the key. He is not happy. Apparently, somewhere in the middle of last night, VM’s crack security team put a chain and padlock on the pool gate so that no one can get in. There are several people milling about the parking lot, all wondering why the management company would lock up the pool. Also, on my way out, I stop at the dumpster to drop off my garbage, and the dumpster is filled to overflowing, and an ugly circle of garbage bags is accumulating around the dumpster. I add my four bags to the pile, and bid farewell to VM. I think I am leaving just in time!
Phoebe pukes once in her cat carrier on the way, but it is all bile, so it doesn’t make too big of a mess. Abby settles in and pretty much sleeps the whole time --- what a good girl. My GPS unit, “Gretchen,” continues with her penchant for local roads and keeps me off the Interstate for all but about 20 of my 150 mile journey. I am on state and U.S. highways going through little (and not so little towns) where cafes, gas stations, and old-style motor court motels are boarded up. Owners of these properties, wherever they may be, have apparently given up any pretense of hanging a “FOR SALE” sign on most of the places. All that’s missing in these towns is a billboard saying, “Would the last person out please turn out the lights?”
I get to Fort Myers and my unit at about 3:15. My landlord, Heather Mangen, is working today, so she has her parents meet me there to get me in the gate, show me the unit, get me the keys, etc. Her parents are Ken and Patty, and they seem like nice folks. I write a check to Heather Mangen for $1,650 for the first month’s rent.
I get the kitties in, along with their litter, food, and water, and Phoebe proceeds to throw her little hissing fit. Abby seems to make herself right at home. I get the perishables put away, and the most essential stuff brought in. But I am really quite tired from lack of sleep the night before, and go down for a nap. Happily, Heather has a really nice Queen size bed with a nice down comforter and four big pillows. There’s a big thick microfoam mattress “topper” on the bed, which I don’t know whether will work for me or not (it almost makes the bed too soft) but is doesn’t matter for this nap. I doze off in no time flat, and when I awake, it dark.
I’m quite hungry by this time, and though I would like something nice, I’m just not feeling too adventurous right now, so there’s a Burger King right on the corner of my street, and I go through the drive-through and settle for a Whopper and try an order of their “new” fries. Has anyone tried them yet? I can’t make any distinction from the “old” fries, or is it just me? And another thing: a regular Whopper (no cheese) and a small order of french fries, and no drink (I have soda back at the condo) runs me $5.38. God, I hate to sound like an old curmudgeon, but does that not seem to be getting a little ridiculous, pricewise? Last time I checked, I thought Whoppers were three bucks? Does that make these freakin’ French fries two bucks? With the rest tax? Well, anyway, I’m hungry, so I bring it back to the condo and scarf it down.
I feed Phoebe her usual one-fourth can of wet food, and she is anxious to get it, despite still being bent out of shape by the new surroundings. I phone Dawn to let her know I’m here safe and sound. I watch a little TV, and thankfully I have TONS of channels (including History) and the Internet connection is also much faster than at Orlando. Life is good. I hit the sack early.
Expenses: gas, $30; candy bar at gas station, $1.25; dinner, $5.38. Total $37
Bruce
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