Sunday, July 11, 2021: I decided I needed to get a little drink on before setting out tomorrow on my vaca, you know, mainly to add supply to the 2 Dailey's frozen cocktails in the freezer. Can't just drink them alone. I was going to be a good boy and just get a six, but ABC had a sale. So I got two 6-packs of Goose Island IPAs. One six, plus the Dailey's was enough and I passed out by 9pm.
Monday, July 12, 2021: My hangover wasn't the worst but it was definitely present and accounted for. I languished in a state of inertial stagnation, putzing around on the computer and trying to get little power naps in before departing for my trip. I finally got my shit together enough and left the house at 12 o'clock on the dot.
I made my way up 27 to Avon Park, then hung a left west. I plotted my course using Google Maps but instead of using the app, I chose to write down the directions by hand on a slip of paper. I'm so old skool. There were many turns and road changes making it a little confusing. Sure enough, once I made it through the vast hinterlands of Florida's interior, I popped back out to civilization and jumped onto I-75. But my direction said I would "merge" into 275 which would take me over the Skyway Bridge (which I was looking forward to despite my acrophobia) and through St. Pete to Clearwater. But I missed the merge 'cause I finally started thinking I'd gone too far on 75 by the time I was hitting signs that said "Tampa 12 Miles." Pulled off the highway, checked my phone and sure enough, I was practically in Brandon on the southeast side of Tampa. I recalculated a new route and made my way across downtown Tampa via Rt. 60 to Clearwater Beach. No Skyway Bridge today.
So I endured those panic-inducing, skinny one lane each way roads through the boonies, with local yokels in their 4x4s passing me angrily since 65 was too slow for them, all for nothing. Traded that for pothole-riddled sketchy urban streets with at least one homeless dude per red light walking up to my car staring at me flashing their little cardboard sign. It felt like every fucking corner. More on the sketchiness of Tampa later.
The weather was awesome for the whole drive right up to the point when I got on the strip near my hotel. It was right on the beach and as the dark clouds were encroaching the whole area, throngs of beachgoers were en masse heading across the road from the beach to their hotels. Half mile drive took almost half an hour yielding to packs and packs of pedestrians crossing. Didn't get a good glimpse of Clearwater Beach since I had to keep my eyes on the road and the idiot peds darting out in front of me. I think that pedestrians get emboldened when they cross in front of a small car. I guess they think that it won't hurt as much if I hit them. The clouds opened up and dumped their contents amidst roaring thunder, flashes of lightning and torrential winds just as I pulled up to my hotel.
Checked in, paid the resort and parking fee (which I knew about so no surprise), parked in the adjacent parking garage on the ground level of the multi-story hotel next door. I found myself sighing a bit of relief that this was not a basement garage since I think we know now how wise they are in Florida on the beachfront.
The room looked great, just like the pretty pictures on their website. But there were huge puddles on the floor near the windows. The squall had blown rain through the edges of the windows and into the room. I tried to call guest services on the room phone but it was fast busy (off the hook). I went down to the lobby and told the girl at the desk, she didn't seem surprised, this must happen with every rain. I was off on my walking adventure of bar hopping so I asked them to have it mopped. They gave me a look like I should have just laid down some towels myself on the puddles, why come to them about it? And this is a 3-star hotel?
The rain had powered down some but it was still going strong so I made my first stop at the bar attached to the front of the hotel: Cabanas Coastal Grill. This was a small bar and only a few other patrons but the bartender was really nice. Had 3 Jai Lai IPAs and an order of onion rings with remoulade (delish).
By the time I'd finished those, was ready for stop Number 2: Shephard's Tiki Beach Bar & Grill. Rough looking bartender but she was nice enough. Performed her spiel well. I asked her what frozen drinks she had and she whipped out the laminated drinks menu, indicating that her favorite was a drink this bar labeled "Miami V." She pretended that it was a drink unique to this bar. I told her that a frozen strawberry daiquiri and pina colada together is available everywhere and it was called Miami Vice. I mentioned maybe the bar owners were afraid of copyright problems so the shortened it to their name. Despite her accolades though, when I took my first sip it tasted flavorless and down-right virgin. I asked her to zhuzh it up once I made room in the cup with a sip or two more and she proceeded to fill the two inches with 151 to the rim. Its pretty red and cream colors were tainted all light brown. And was nearly unpalatable, being now almost straight rum. But, of course, I drank it.
Stop 3 was Jimmy's Fish House and Iguana Bar. They have a cool countdown LED timer over the bar letting you know when sundown is. Before I ordered I made note that it said sundown was in two hours. After a meh Mai-Tai and an unknown number of IPAs here, I don't recall how much closer to that goal we were as I was already well into the edge of Blackout Time.
I barely remember making it back to Shephard's, sitting at a different bar (they had several) closer to the bandstand since now, as night was indeed descending, they had their live band performing. It was country-ish but it sounded okay, I guess. Like I said, it's hard to remember. Not sure what I was drinking but I can guess it wasn't any of their lame pre-mixed frozen drinks. I'm not certain and I have no idea why, but I get the feeling that I was bounced outta here. If this was real (and not just my imagination) all I could think of, knowing my usual drunk behavior, is either I was having a conversation with someone using cuss words, for color not out of anger, or, I may have been passing out at the bar.
Tuesday, July 13, 2021: I woke up fully clothed, splayed out on top of the bed covers, contacts still in my eyes, the door to the balcony was wide open and an unopened six pack of Torpedos on the desk/table. No recollection of when I got back. I figured I bought the beer at the market across the street and online it says they close at midnight so it was sometime before that. From the open balcony door, it looks like I may have spent some time sitting out there watching the waves. Here's the view on this morning from my room.
I was hurting. Two hangovers in a row. My head was pounding and some ibuprofen helped but I would suffer throughout the day with fatigue, dehydration and aches. My muscles just weren't having it and even taking a few steps was a real difficult endeavor. How was I supposed to deal with a theme park today?
Checked out and drove east back to Tampa. I was really, really hungry since, as far as I could tell, I hadn't eaten since those onion rings yesterday and that was all I'd had all day. I was craving Chinese but the majority of places Google Maps advertised were all counter-service and I wanted sit down. I passed one place that was sit down but it looked sketchy as all. I decided I would just head to Busch Gardens and eat in the park.
Parking at Busch Gardens was $25 which is not covered with my Fun Pass so it makes multi-day visits that much more expensive. My hotel I was checking into here in Tampa was not close enough to the park to offer shuttle service so I'd be forking this fee up tomorrow too if I returned, as originally planned. Checkmark number one in the NOPE column for returning to Busch Gardens. More to come.
The park isn't as big as I remembered it from my last visit 20 years ago. Perhaps that's because there weren't as many roller coasters crammed in there as there are now. Surely, everywhere you walked you were either under or very close-by one. But despite it seeming smaller than I remember, my body was not enjoying the walking at all, especially in the heat. Weather app on the phone said it was only 90, but my car thermometer was recording it near 100. Either way, with my higher than ever weight and my hangover, I was huffing and puffing and sweating through each and every slow, lumbering step. Yep, people were staring at me again, probably wondering if I was about to keel over. I gotta say, it almost felt like it. Check number 2.
And I should have known but then again I was hoping that a weekday in mid-July wouldn't see massive attendance. Wrong. It was packed. And so many screaming kids. My social anxiety was through the roof, and since I was hungover and not at all into drinking beers (especially at the prices they were selling them) I was dealing with it head on sober and hyper sensitive to the noise and ruckus of the crowds. Checkmark 3.
All the eateries I encountered were quick-service and the usual theme park fare, I wanted different. I found a BBQ smokehouse place that looked, and smelled, okay but there was a line out the yin-yang. Nope. I wouldn't be eating in the park. Checkaroonie Quatro.
I stumbled upon a building that looked like a smaller version of the sample house cafe from SeaWorld. And, just recently, they, like their sister park SeaWorld used to do, began to re-offer the traditional two small beer samples that both parks gave out when they were owned by Anheuser-Busch. I walked up to the counter and sure enough they were giving out the free beer, but only two of the several selections were available for free. A dark porter and what the girl referred to as a "tart ale." I looked over to the pull and it said "TPA." "Oh, so like an IPA?" I asked, "Why TPA?" "Tampa" she replied. Though I wasn't in the mood for drinking today, I would never pass up free beer. I also bought a bottle of water since that's what I really needed.
I sat at a table and took one sip. This was NOT IPA. It actually tasted like the only kind of beer I absolutely hate, Gose. I looked online just now as I'm writing this and though the brewery "Florida Avenue" doesn't seem to offer a Gose option, it has several Berliner Weisse. A quick search puts that variety in the same family of sour beers as Gose. So, my luck, I got two cups of free beer, but they were undrinkable! I went with my two, practically full cups, up to the counter and asked the girl who served me if I could swap these out for two porters. She looked totally dumbfounded. She whisked away to her co-workers and they whispered to each other for a minute. Then one of them got on her walkie-talkie. I called to them asking what's up and one of the girls said they were asking permission from their supervisor. I lost it. I yelled out that this was bullshit and left in a huff, leaving the two cups of vile liquid on the counter.
I can't help but think back to the infamous free beer sip at SeaWorld in 1996. As the linked post details, my illicit, guilt-ridden sip tasted like Heaven. What if it tasted like shit then though? Who knows how my life might have gone down another path? Ah well. In case your keeping count, definitely checkmark number 5.
The stop for the train was nearby so I walked there, stood for a while since the announcer said it would only be ten minutes for the next train. But standing was really difficult today so after about seven minutes or so of back pain pitched at an awkward stance, I made my way to the benches in the handicapped entrance. The way I figure it, I am now handicapped. If it didn't cost $95, I would have rented one of those electric HoverRounds. What should have been a relaxing choo-choo ride through the park gazing at the animals, was a fifteen minute endurance of cramped, hard benches, a nearby cigar smoker (not actively smoking, of course, but still wafting out his odor of nasty-ass tobacco) and a gung-ho "tour guide" loudly and gratingly pointing out every little detail along the way with his youthful, sing-song fake enthusiasm over the blaring loudspeaker. I got off at the next stop, closer to the park exit, instead of doing the full circuit. Can we hear a whistle hoot for Check number 6?
By now I was actually swooning from probably low blood sugar as I lurched my fat sweat-soaked ass to the exit. Got on the tram that only takes you to a central location at the parking area, not down each row nearer your car like Disney, and didn't look back. $95 for a Fun Pass I very much doubt I'll use again. Maybe when it cools down some in the fall/winter? Maybe when the crowds die down? We'll see.
I'd passed an Olive Garden on the way to the park so I went to that. "That'll be a 25 minute wait." said the hostess. It was 3:30 in the afternoon. "Thank you." I said as I walked out, back to the hunt. The hunt for a meal in Tampa.
I went back to my original idea of Chinese and again consulted Google Maps. But for some reason, I just kept getting lost and couldn't find my way to any of the restaurants. The sit down ones I really liked the look of on the app were all closed until dinner time at 5.
After an hour or so of driving around through sketchy street after sketchy street, ignoring, as best I could, beggar after beggar, I found myself right near the hotel so I decided to check in, then go out for my meal.
Definitely not the swanky digs of last nights place but not bad really. Don't worry about the smeared plexiglass barrier at the front desk. Don't worry about the small bits of garbage and what looked like a roach leg on the staircase. Don't worry about the odd smell of the room. Don't worry about the balcony looking directly into other rooms windows. Don't worry about the very thin and steep stairway to the bedroom loft. The suite has a little kitchenette like that place in St. Louis. I toyed with the idea of just using my EBT card at a nearby Publix and buying food to cook here instead of eating out. But I was tired and didn't want to cook either.
I stripped off my sweat-soaked clothes, took a quick shower, dressed in a fresh outfit and ventured once again to the streets of the MLK Blvd. area I was in for a place with decent food. More aimless driving and getting turned around. And now I left my phone in the room so I didn't have that to help. I finally found a walk-up counter place in a strip mall and though it took a hot minute of waiting (it was really busy) I finally got me a pork low mein, fried rice and egg roll combo dinner with a side of steam dumplings.
Got back to my hotel, opened the bag and the food looked good, but no utensils, no packets of soy sauce or sweet and sour sauce. Maybe I had to ask for them? No problem, this room has the kitchenette stocked with dishes and utensils, right? I mean they got the hotplate, counter, apartment fridge. Opened the drawers and cabinets...nothing. So now I was this close to finally eating after almost two days and not even chopsticks. The dumplings and egg roll were finger food so good enough, but I had to scoop the lo mein and rice into my mouth like an animal.
I managed somehow, though I made a small mess of rice droppings on the living room floor. I snuggled into bed around 8 pm, watched the end of one movie and the beginning of another but by 9 pm I was ready to call it a night. The bed was alternately too hot, too lumpy, too firm, the pillows too soft and the headboard banged. But I finally got settled in after a while.
Then, just as I was drifting off to sleep, a blast of very loud country music aggressively boomed through the walls from the room next door. I waited. Not just one song. It kept going. I thought of calling the front desk but then, after mulling it over for a bit, considering the only other thing I was planning on doing here in Tampa this trip was visiting the Hard Rock Casino, I decided that had I done so, I'd surely would have lost any money I gambled what with the luck I was having. I packed up my shit, Google Map plotted my return and drove the hour and a half in the middle of the night back home.