My Week in Daytona Beach

Monday Feb. 6 -- Friday Feb. 10

 Monday Feb. 8

After a breakfast of bacon and eggs, I change out the kitty litter, pack the car, and head off to the twin watch shows at Daytona Beach. According to Google, it's 217 miles, and about 4 hours and 20 minutes, assuming no stops and/or traffic snags. The first leg to Orlando goes the slowest, along U.S. Highway 17, that takes you numerous nondescript cities and towns in the inner section of Florida. Once you hit Interstate 4, you whisk along until you hit Kissimmee/Orlando, and then of course it's a crap shoot navigating the theme park corridor, then downtown, then north  Orlando and Winter Park. Then you have another clear shot for about 30-40 miles until you hit the dividing point where  Interstate 4 ends, and splits either to I-95, or to State Road 92, which takes you to Daytona Beach.

It is here at this junction, I encounter a huge accident (one of many, I hear, at this busy and dangerous confluence of  highways) where a tanker truck is overturned and off into the ditch, and several other vehicles are obviously involved. I  later look for news, and hear nothing of death, so assume it was just a big nasty mess. It delayed my arrival to Daytona  by about a half hour.

I arrived to sunshine, and warm temps. I checked into the Plaza Resort and Spa. I did not get the free "suite upgrade"  that I did last year, but at the very least I had an ocean front room on the fourth floor (better than an "ocean view")  complete with a mini kitchen with sink, microwave, and mini fridge.

So my first move was to head to the nearby Publix supermarket for provisions. On the way, I learned that the nice  weather was soon to end, when I called (sister) Dawn, and she asked if it was raining in Daytona yet. Apparently, some  sort of weird, once-a-century low pressure front was covering most of Florida, and we were in for some cold, cloudy,  windy, and wet weather for the next few days. As I neared the Publix, I could see the clouds moving in already. I picked  up some sandwich fixins (including some Hawaiian bread mini sub rolls ... did anyone know they make these? They are delicious), some cold salads, a bag of "Combos" cheese/pretzel rolls, a bag of Lindor dark chocolate  truffles, a bag of Starbucks coffee, coffee filters, a 12 pack of Coke, a six pack of beer, a bottle of tequila, and some  margarita mix. In all, I spent 60 bucks, but then I figured I was covered for the week for morning coffee, lunches,  cocktail hour, and evening munchies. And plenty of coffee, tequila, and diet Coke to take back with me to Ft. Myers.

By the time I got back to the Plaza, it was raining. No problem, for their parking garage is covered. I got my provisions  stowed away, and immediately made a sandwich because it was 3 p.m. by then and I was pretty hungry, having had  nothing since breakfast along the 5 hour road trip from Ft. Myers. I was pretty tired after that, so I took a nice nap.

When I awoke, it was dark out and I could hear wind howling outside my patio window. I watched a "Pawn Stars"  marathon on the History Channel (nice big flat screen TV in my room), read, caught on the blog, and finally hit the sack  around 11 p.m. Tomorrow is the first day of the first of two shows in Daytona, this one hosted by Girard Sensoli, and  referred to as the "Girard Show." The format of this show is a little more loose, and dealers can display most anything  of a collectible nature, including jewelry, knives, pens, and what-not. At the NAWCC show, to come later in the week,  only items of a horological nature can be displayed. So it makes the Girard show a little more interesting and provides a  little more opportunity for creative trading.

 Tuesday Feb. 7

I awake, and the first thing I see outside my patio window is an angry sea. White caps are blowing in like giant mounds  of marshmallow fluff. Warnings are posted for swimmers not to enter the water, and every so often a police cruiser  drives by to make sure there are no crazy people wading into the surf. I see one lone jogger, and he is keeping a safe  distance from the water line. The sound of the waves crashing into one another is reminiscent of something I  remembered along the rocky coast of Maine rather than a white sand beach. I have never seen the ocean like this, but  of course I've never been to Florida during the traditional storm season, so I'm sure this is a common sight around that  time of year. It is strangely beautiful, though I'm sure this weird patch of weather is ruining vacations for millions who  are spending the week here.

I have breakfast in the hotel's cafe (the Magnolia) of eggs over easy, sausage, home fries, toast, and coffee. The  Girard show is right in the same hotel (thankfully, due to the weather) so I make my way to the conference/ballroom  area, pay my $25 entrance fee, and enter the mart room. The room is bustling with the usual "snatch and grab" crowd  looking for Rolexes and other high-end watches, while I work my way through the aisles looking for hidden gems  among the second- and third-tier brands. I see some familiar faces, and make introductions with others. I see my  buddy, Zaf Basha, from Washington, whose acquaintance goes back to the mid '80s. He is still working on this second  book, on military wristwatches, and he anticipates completion in about 18 months. He is one of the few "thinking man's"  watch collectors here, and it is good to run into him. We have an interesting discussion about the orderly disposal of  our personal collections, when the time comes. I learn that he has already begun disposing of his collection by dividing  the number of his watches into the number of years between his current age (48) and his retirement at age 65, and  figuring that is the number of watches he will sell annually. Very appropriate for a man who deals with analysis and  statistics at his "day job" as a computer expert with a Washington D.C. consulting firm.

I spend the better part of the afternoon roaming the show, picking up a few things, which I will detail at the end of this  blog entry. The weather has not improved, so I return to my room for naps, reading, Internet browsing, and TV  watching. I hit the sack about 10 p.m.

Wednesday Feb. 8

I again have breakfast at the Magnolia, but take my own cup of Starbucks down to the cafe to save the $2 charge for  coffee (mine is better coffee anyway!). This morning, I have a "choose three" omelet with ham, Swiss cheese, and  green pepper. I have this with grits instead of the home fries. No toast. I head over to day two of the Girard show and  do a little final trading.

 We get a nice break in the weather during the afternoon. It is still cold and windy, but at least the clouds part and we  have some nice sunshine, so I decide to spend part of the afternoon out on the hotel's beautiful sun deck/pool area.

The Plaza Resort and Spa is sort of the "gray lady" among the hotels that line Daytona Beach. During its heyday of the  1920s and '30s. it drew stars, dignitaries, and captains of industry. It was THE place to be on the beach. The rich would fly their planes right onto the beach, and park their Duesenbergs and Packards. It is now looking a little long in the tooth, but to me still has that Art Deco charm not found at the more modern Hiltons, Marriotts, and Sheratons. It  suits me, and I hope that NAWCC continues to use this as the host hotel for the mid-winter regional, assuming they do  not move it back to Orlando (which they very well may do).

So anyway, I venture outside the hotel to find a "can cozy"  for my cans of soda and beer. I find one at a souvenir shop across the street. It's on a clearance rack, and is emblazoned with  "The 2011 Daytona 500," but it's only a buck fifty, so I snap it up. I also poke my head into a bar/restaurant across the  street called the "Oyster Pub" because I overheard they were rumored to have a 2-for-1 happy hour from 4 p.m. to 7  p.m. I confirm this with the hostess, and decide this is where I will have my dinner tonight.

I finally hit the patio/pool area around 1 p.m., with my current read ("Isaac's Storm") and my insulated can of "Busch Beer" and proceed to expose my white and hairy body to the sun, occasionally flipping over in my chaise lounge. I have a little bit of company on the deck, but nobody is in the pool, save for some sea gulls bathing (and no doubt crapping) in the fresh water, and of course there is still nobody in the ocean, which is still frothing from the wind. I get in  some good reading, and relaxing, listening to the rhythms of the surf.

 I get back to my room and clean up for my trip over to the Oyster Pub. There, I order a half dozen raw oysters. They  are not my favorite, but I like to order them once in a while to see if I have acquired the taste for them. Tripadvisor.com  reviewers say they are some of the best, freshest oysters to be found in the city. I order a double vodka on the rocks to to with them, because I figure the neutral taste of the vodka is is probably the best thing to go with the delicate flavor of the oysters. I eat the oysters with cocktail sauce, a bit of extra horse radish, and lemon. The vodka is the perfect compliment. While they are certainly fresh and delicate, they are still not my "thing," and they will remain a "once in a  while" event with me. I'm still hungry, so now I order a small plate of mild buffalo wings with bleu cheese dressing and  celery sticks. With this, I order Jack and Coke, and this time get my "double" in two glasses. It is a delicious combo. I  leave the Oyster Pub with four shots of booze in my belly, and it is a good thing I am walking the 1.5 blocks back to the  hotel, for I'm fairly certain I'm over the legal blood alcohol limit for driving.

Earlier in the day, I have left a message with my buddy, Mike Porter of Ohio, to call me for a "private showing" of  watches in one of our hotel rooms. Tomorrow (Thursday) is the first day of the NAWCC show, and I'd like to see Mike's  watches before the flurry of opening day. He agrees, and tells me to come down to his "digs" at at place called "Peck  Towers," which is one of those giant round silos of a condominium further south on the beach, almost to Point Orange.

I thought he and his wife were staying at the Plaza, also, but it turns out he and wife along with another couple rented  this condo unit for the week, as they have for the last couple of years during the show. I figure this will be cool,  because I've never been in one of these high-rise condo units (let along a round one) and this will give me a chance to  view and evaluate yet another living option down here for possible future reference.

I arrive at "Peck Tower" at around 8 p.m., and park in the visitor lot. Mike meets me outside the lobby and lets me in,  and takes me up the elevator to the 10th floor and his unit. Being circular, all units are in the shape of a pie slice, with the  "edge crust" being the big picture window that looks out onto the ocean (if you are on the ocean side), or the city of  Daytona Beach with the bay and mainland if you are on the "city side" of the condo. They have a unit on the ocean side, so their view out the window (complete with balcony) is spectacular. But something about the round shape of the unit is unsettling and creates a very inefficient use of floor space. I don't like it, but of course do not say anything to my hosts.

I am also introduced to "Stu (as in Stuart) and Rachel" which are the other couple they share the unit with. They have rented the  unit for $1,000 for seven nights, which comes to $500 per couple, which is cheaper than if they stayed at the Plaza for  seven nights if you can live with the floor plan. Another unsettling feature is that the inside wall (the point of the pie slice) is entirely mirrored, and the entry door is part of that wall and more or less disappears when it is closed. It kind of  gave the place a kind "1960s Playboy Club kind of feel to it. I was looking for Hugh Hefner and a few Bunnies to come jumping out of the side rooms. Anyway, Mike and I did a little trading, and I spent another $225 on some additional watches. And  then Pat, who is Mike's wife, asked me if I played "Euchre" and of course I said yes, so four of the five of us ended up playing two rounds of Euchre, with Stu falling asleep on the sofa. By the time we were done, it was 10:30, and I said  it was time for me to turn in, so I headed back to the hotel, and by the time I climbed into bed it was 11 p.m.

Thursday Feb. 9

This is the first day of the NAWCC show. Because it is too large to fit into the Plaza Hotel, the show is held at the  "Ocean Center" which is part of a convention complex located about six blocks south of the hotel. It makes for a  pleasant walk, as long as it's not raining or overly hot, and the walk saves you the $5 charge to park in their open air parking lot.

Today, I have breakfast at an IHOP located on Atlantic Drive by the of hotel, and on the way to the Ocean Center. I  have a stack of their classic pancakes and a side of bacon, and get to enjoy four different flavors of syrup. I share a table with a fellow who looks like a "watch guy" and so start up a conversation. His name is Ken, and he has come all the way from Great Britain, and specializes in collecting pocket watches that are signed "Coventry" which he explains was a hub of English watchmaking up until about 1900 or so, but he explains that many of the watchmakers from Coventry made pocket watches for other companies, so very few are actually signed "Coventry" on the case, movement, or dial. I also tell him  about a minor fascination I have with English fusees with their tiny chain drives that aren't much larger in thickness than a normal piece of string. He explains that many of the chains that went into English fusees where manufactured in Chichester. The links were stamped out from dies in a mechanized, fashion, but then they actually used child labor to hand assemble the links into chains because their eyesight was better and more suited to closeup work, and their smaller hands enabled them to more easily assemble the delicate links into chains. He went on to say it was kind of national tragedy because literally thousands of young children typically 12 years old (and sometimes younger) lost much of their ability to see by the time they were age 15 or so because of all the closeup work. Interesting story, and yet another example of the human cost in our  species' efforts to climb the industrial ladder.

I get into the show shortly after 11 a.m. when it opens and begin looking around and making the rounds at the tables.  There are 10 rows, each with about 30 dealers or thereabout, so you can do the math. The dealers are pretty equally  divided between clock people and watch people, which is encouraging because usually the ratio is about 70/30  weighted toward clocks. The bad part is the overall number of dealers is down, and there aren't a lot of people here walking the aisles and buying. And most who are walking are the tableholders, trying to strike a wholesale deal with a  fellow dealer. Hard way to make a buck. I can well remember back in the late 1980s when I first started coming to this  show, that it was three times this size, and on opening day, you could hardly squeeze your way through the aisles it was  so packed with actual COLLECTORS looking for pieces for their collections and paying collector prices rather than  dealer prices. This is what the Internet has done to "live" shows now. Who wants to shell out a thousand bucks to  spend a week in Florida when you can turn on your computer and look at 60,000 watches on eBay at any given  moment for free? I'm awfully glad I didn't spend the extra 60 bucks to get a table here. As it was, the admission was  $60, which I thought was kind of expensive, but then everything is going up, and with fewer people registered, the cost  per person to get in the show naturally has to go higher. It's a vicious circle. I score a few deals, which again I will list  at the end. The overall mood of the show was pretty jovial, with most people's major complaint being about the weather.

I pack an energy bar in my Woodman's tote bag (which serves as my "briefcase" for the show) so I do not have to go  out for lunch or buy a $20 turkey sandwich at the concession stand. I continue to browse after lunch, and finally throw in  the towel at about 4 p.m. I walk back to the hotel, and do the only and only workout for the week in the hotel's "fitness center." The fitness center was bad last year, and is even worse this year, with three barely functioning cardio machines (elliptical, bike, and treadmill) and a collection of rusting weight machines. Despite the awful condition, I actually manage to get in a fairly good workout. Back at the room, I shower, eat from my provisions, then enjoy an evening of reading, watching TV, and Internet surfing.

Friday Feb. 10

The weather this a.m. remains crappy, and the forecast for tomorrow shows no improvement, so I make a command  decision to check out of the hotel a day early. Today is the last day of the NAWCC show anyway, and as long as nature is preventing my enjoyment of the beach and the ocean, I might as well get rained on in Fort Myers as Daytona Beach,  and save another $122 night's stay in the process. (The association's "special rate" for this room is $112, but with  taxes it ends up being $122. Which is a bargain, by the way, but $122 to watch it rain on the beach is still  not worth it!)

So I have my final breakfast in the hotel's cafe (again with my own coffee) pack up the Prius, including my remaining  groceries, tequila, beer, and Diet Coke), check out, and head over to the Ocean Center and pay the $5 to park. I have  no cooler, but figure the remainder of the cold salads (potato salad, cole slaw) will be safe to eat for lunch, as long as I  don't leave them in the car too awfully long. I make one final swing around the Mart room, and the only thing I pick up is  a group of three old watch catalogs from the collection of Art Zimerla, one of the "old timers" who resides near  Lancaster, PA. (I frankly thought the guy was dead; nobody has heard from him in a while. I actually spent a day with him back in the early 2000s --- I want to say 2004 --- when I was on one of my research missions at NAWCC  headquarters in Columbia. I mention this to Art, but of course he has long forgotten it.) Art, a long-time widower, is at  the show with his son, Art Jr., and they are, as always, inseparable. Art Jr. is a bit "gifted" (as is the current politically correct term for "challenged" or what we used to freely describe as "retarded" which of course you don't dare say any more). He is, as I remember back in 2004, never more than 10 feet away from his dad. Art Senior has (or at least had)  a fabulous (and considerably large) collection of watches and watch-related ephemera (signs, store displays, paper,  etc.) focusing on American makers, notably Hamilton. One has to wonder (at least I do) of what will play out when Art  Senior (who surely must be in his 80s) dies. I'm sure the "kid" (now well into this 30s) will be taken care of financially, but I'm guessing the guy doesn't have a friend in the world.

I also make a connection with a Zodiac watch collector by the name of Christian Hawley, which may prove useful down  the road when I write a follow up story on Zodiac watches.

At around 12:30, I eat the last of my perishables from the car, including a turkey/Swiss sandwich, potato salad,  coleslaw, baked beans, and a Diet Coke. Everything is warm, but I suffer no ill effects. I say goodbye to my friends,  Pat and Mike, and am on the road by 1:30 p.m. or so. My swaps/buys during the last four days are as follows:

• a rare Elgin doctor's watch in sterling case, $325, purchased for my own collection;
• an Elgin Holcomb in virtually mint condition (gold filled) purchase at $275 for my own collection;
• a group of 4 misc. watches for resale, purchased for $110;
• another group of 4 misc. watches, including a working Accutron 214, purchased for $75;
• a group of 4 misc. early Swiss conversion (wire lug) watches purchased for $175;
• a Bulova scalloped lug watch for $25;
• a group of three watches including a GP Gyromatic; Pierce screwed-on back, and a lovely art deco era large square in  white gold filled case, traded even up for a chronograph which I was into for $175;
• a Wittnauer asymmetrical gold filled watch, which I traded for a Vulcain wrist alarm, with $350 cash my way. I figure I  have $500 into the wrist alarm, so the Wittnauer cost me $150. I think I'll just break even on this watch, but I was glad  to get rid of the Vulcain alarm;
• three catalogs, purchased from Art Zimerla, for $10 at one of the silent auctions;
• three genuine Omega signed crowns, purchased for $30 from Mike Porter; and
• a copy of Rene Rondeau's ID book on Hamilton watches. I bought this from Andy Edmiston, a longtime acquaintance, from Lakeland, Fla. He sold me the book for $20. Copies of this book have been going for $250 on eBay because the book is out of print. I felt kind of sheepish about offering Andy such a low price on it, but hey if he doesn't know any better (and he should), it's not my job to educate him. I currently have the book on eBay (I already own a copy) and  hope I score big on that one.

I also sold a hunk of scrap 14kt gold, which was a case to a Benrus man's watch. The case weighed 7.2 DWTS, and the guy was paying 97% of market, so I sold the case for $354. I had $200 into the watch, so that was an easy $154 profit. I would never have been able to sell the watch for that amount of money as a complete watch. Sad but true. And I saw many people at the show scrapping both karat gold and gold filled watch cases -- both pocket and wrist.

I got back to Fort Myers and the condo at about 6:30 p.m., but unfortunately not without incident. In Winter Haven,  along U.S. Highway 17, I was stopped by a city cop for going 30 mph through a school zone. Honest to God, there are so many speed postings along Highway 17, it's hard to keep track of them, especially as you are going through cities.

But the cop had me dead to rights. I was very humble and apologetic, and all "yes sir" and "no sir," and I lucked out  when the cop let me off with a warning, after checking my license and registration for any outstanding warrants and asking me if I was carrying anything illegal in the car. I thought for one brief moment about answering, "Nothing besides  a suitcase full of Oxycodone which I'm muling back to Wisconsin for a guy named Sergei in exchange for $2,000  cash," but I figured the cop probably didn't have a sense of humor about these things, so I just kept on with the "yes sirs" and "no sirs" and "I'm sorry sirs" and he let me go.

I got back to the condo, and was out of everything, but too tired to shop, so just nibbled on what was left in the pantry.

It's really hard to estimate non-watch-related expenditures for this past week. The hotel bill was around $500, including three breakfasts. Provisions set me back around $60. Dinner and drinks at the Oyster Pub on Tuesday set me back  about $30. A tank of gas at $35. And maybe $20 in incidentals. So call it $645.

Bruce