Monday, February 27, 2012

Beaches, Buds, and Bikini Babes

Tuesday Feb. 21

Well, today is Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday) and I can think of no better way to spend it than at Fort Myers Beach. I've invited Carol to spend part of the day with me. I slather myself with some sunscreen, and set out on my bike (with new cushion gel seat!) at about 11:30 and arrive at the beach at about 12:30. I settle in at a bar called "Top O' Mast." They are famous for their "Rum Runner" which is about eight bucks or so, but it's served in a souvenir glass, which you get to keep. They are strictly a bar, but offer food through a restaurant called "La Ola" (translation: "The Wave") which is across the street from them. It makes things a little confusing, because your drink waitress is different than your food waitress. And the food waitress has the added task of running back and forth to fetch food. But I guess it all works out.

I rent two beach lounge chairs and a shade umbrella from yet a third company, which has an arrangement with "Top O' Mast." I get the "package" for $15, which I figure is a pretty good deal when you consider I don't have to lug any of this stuff in and out with me. I then make lunch reservations at a place called the "Pierside Grill" (about 75 feet up the beach from Top O' Mast) which seems to be very popular.

I settle into my beach lounge chair, set up the umbrella for maximum shade, and order up a cold Bud long neck, which costs $3.25 (reasonable) and I tip my charming waitress "Antoinette" (I swear I"m not making this up) 75 cents on every Bud, of which I have a total of four during my afternoon stay. The place has a live DJ, and he is playing a nice blend of beach tunes from my era, including Van Morrison, the Beach Boys, Joe Cocker, Jimmy Buffet, etc., along with an occasional Zydeco standard in honor of Mardi Gras.

Carol calls me on the cell, and says she is stuck in traffic along San Carlos Blvd. and jokes that it could be tomorrow until she gets here! She finally arrives at about 2 p.m., and informs me that she parked her car on the mainland, and walked across the San Carlos bridge to the beach. (I can well believe this, as I biked to the beach and was passing hundreds of cars who were inching their way along San Carlos Blvd. toward the beach while I breezed by on the sidewalk on my little ol' coaster bike!).

I inform Antoinette that we will be having lunch a couple of doors down at the Pierside, and she says she will keep an eye on our "stuff" for us if we just leave it on the beach lounges. So this is another nice feature of the "rental option."  Lunch on the deck at the Pierside consists of a crabcake sandwich for me, and a seafood salad stuffed into a tomato for Carol. She has water, I have another Bud. The tab comes to $26, and I leave a $5 tip.

Back to the lounge chairs at Top O' Mast, and we sit for a spell and chat, and catch up. I continue with my Bud long necks, and Carol, for whatever reason, is going sans alcohol today and just has water. Not one to sit still for very long, Carol decides to go "shelling" with a kitchen colander she has brought, and I tell her to knock herself out and have a good time while I read "Sanibel Flats." It is a perfect beach day --- low 80s and brilliant sun, with an occasional puff of cloud, and a gentle breeze that kisses the air every once in a while with the scent of the ocean.

As I mentioned in an earlier blog entry, alcohol is not allowed on the beach, but most of the bars along the beach have designated patio areas, and this particular bar has a "sand pit" that is easily recognized, and signs are posted along the pit perimeter announcing "no open alcohol containers beyond this point." So if you want to drink and sunbathe, you must stay in the pit. If you're willing to forgo the alcohol, you can get a lounge chair and umbrella closer to the ocean. And I suppose if you want the occasional drink, you can just go back and visit "the pit" for a while. They also have bathrooms inside the bar, which is nice. So all in all, this is a sweet deal. Plus, I check the menu from "La Ona" and see they have a nice lunch/dinner menu of sandwiches, along with "famous" (so they claim) thin-crust pizza. So I assure Antoinette we will return and have lunch here next time along with the Buds.

Carol returns from the surf line with a colander full of shells, and proceeds to explain the various types, including the shell of something called a "sand flea" (aka "mole crab") which she is particularly keen on, for some reason. The shell of the young one she has found looks like small piece of gravel. They are small crustaceans that bury themelves in the sand (hence the name) along the surf line, and then they sift through the sand and incoming surf for whatever nutrients come along. I don't know what Carol's fascination is with these creatures, because when the babies grow into adults, they are about one inch long, and when people disturb them or dig them up while digging for other shells, the little fuckers bite and cause burning, itching welts. Many is the tourist (and their kids) down here who have made the mistake of walking barefoot into a patch of seaweed that has washed up onto the surf line, only to find they have stumbled into a herd of sand fleas gorging themselves on the seaweed, quickly turning their wrath onto the offending intruder.

By now, the DJ has shifted gears and is playing "bump and grind" music because there is a group of young people that has decided to roost here for the remainder of the afternoon. The group consists of about four guys and four gals, all in their 20s. The gals are all wearing string bikinis. Sufficiently lubricated with alcohol, the girls decide to dance on top of the tables on the patio level above us, while their boyfriends cheer them on and take copious amounts of photos with their cell phones. Everyone just kind of rolls with it. I figure between the DJ (who is digging it) and the boyfriends, there is a lot of stiff meat at Top O' Mast this afternoon.

I ignore it for the most part, out of courtesy to Carol, but I do steal a glance every once in a while. Even Carol comments that if she had a "bod" like one of those gals, she'd be on top of one of those tables, too. So what more could I ask for? I've got a gorgeous day, ocean breezes, cold Buds, cool tunes, a beach companion, and dancing bikini babes. Happy Mardi Gras.

It's getting on 5 p.m., and we have to end this lovely day, because it takes about an hour to get back to the condo via bicycle, and I need to get back before dark because I don't have a light on the bike, and I don't like biking at night anyway. Carol is out digging for shells one last time, and manages to capture a live adolescent sand flea in a plastic drinking cup, and wants to take it home with her, for God knows what reason. So we end up not leaving the beach until 5:30. This is going to make it close as far as getting back to the condo before dark. I walk my bike across the San Carlos bridge with Carol, but then part company, and I start hauling ass back to the condo. I don't make it back until 6:30, and I'm actually nervous the last mile or so, worrying that cars won't be able to see me. I'm OK in that I'm up on the sidewalk and not actually bicycling in the roadway. But there are numerous driveways and entrances into strip malls, and I fear someone will make a turn and plow into me. But I do OK. I arrive at the condo a hot mass of sweat and sunscreen, and take a much needed shower. I'm a little red on the neck, but for the most part the $3 bottle of sunscreen I purchased at the flea market has done its job. I put a little aloe gel on my face and neck, and it does the trick.

I watch the new episode of "Biggest Loser" that night, and watch one of the contestants, Daphne, self-destruct and get sent home.It seems like this season has been more about drama, and less about losing weight. This show used to inspire me, but I'm finding it less and less so. I think Season 13 is going to turn out to be this show's unlucky season, and they may not return next year. Viewership is down. Hell, even Jillian Michaels had sense enough to bail, and Bob Harper surely must be tired of this gig.

With all the fresh air and exercise today, I sleep like a baby.

Expenses: beach chairs, $15; lunch $31; Bud long necks and tip, $12. Total: $51

Bruce

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