We saddle up and head for Destin tomorrow for a week in the sun with friends and family. (Thanks to Vince and Mike with the JCPD SWAT Team for sitting with the dogs.) Not sure what the wifi situation will be at Amberjack Landing but it won’t hurt me (much) to be off the grid for a few days. I plan to spend some of the time dancing the with Mac Book.
Five days. 120 hours. And then I’m on vacation. Sort of. On Wednesday Roger Gardner and I head for Seattle and three days (for me…RG will probably get geek toxic after a day or so) of Gnomedex. I’ll get back just in time for the long 4th of July weekend. I’ll rest up a few days after that and then it’s off to Destin with the lovely Barb where we gather with her clan for a week. While I won’t be completely off the grid, I will be away from the office and I’m really looking forward to it.
Hope to see my pal Jim Mathies, who lives in Destin. Search for some open wi-fi. And try to get better acquainted with the Mac Book. I feel like the guy that’s due to be released from prison in three or four days and is afraid to leave his cell for fear of getting shanked so close to freedom.
Not sure if you can call 30 hours in the car a vacation but Barb and I are heading down to Destin for a long weekend (next week). There’s some kind of home-owners meeting at Gulfside Cottages and I’m tagging along because I desperately need to get off the grid for a couple of days. Uh, yeah, I’ll probably take the Thinkpad. But I’m pretty sure I won’t be online for the 14 hour drive down and back. I’m eager to see how Destin is recovering.
“I think it’s safe to say the tourist season is over in Destin. I doubt many condos can be rented, especially since even if they’re safe to enter, the only way to get to the beach requires a 20 foot jump. The good news is the seaweed will wash away in a week, the nails and other metal debris will rust away in a month, and the wood will rot in four. But, if your still thinking of braving a trip down to Destin within the next month or so, skip the flip flops, and bring your hiking boots. You’ll need them.”
The photo to the right is what’s left of a swimming pool that was part of the deck of a house right on the beach. Before Dennis ate it up, there was a wooden walk-over just to the left of that deck that we used to access the beach from Amberjack Landing.
I really hate flying. I hate everything about it. The short list includes:
* The shitty little bags of pretzels
* The chemical smell of the toilets
* The morons that refuse to check the baggage and slow the boarding process to a crawl as the park their fat asses in the aisle trying to shove stuff into the overheads. These same dumb-asses can’t grasp the concept of “wait until we reach the gate before standing up and pulling your shit back out.”
Air travel makes me resent people in wheelchairs…and old women on walkers…and children. Funerals and weddings of loved ones will get me on a plane again but it will be an act of duty and obligation. If I don’t look like I’m having fun when I get where I’m going it’s probably because I’m not.
Yes, Key West was warm and beautiful. And only a real party-pooper would complain about getting there and back. But the math doesn’t work for me. I need 100 hours of fun for every hour of travel time, and I never get it. And I never will. Let’s try this. I’ll spend a weekend on the beach with you for every weekend you spend sitting next to me while I surf the web. Come on, it’ll be fun.
Barb just called from the Green Door Bar in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. En route to Destin. Sounded pretty drunk.
Did I mention that Barb built a house in Destin, Florida? Well, she did and it’s for rent. Great for family reunions if you’re into that kind of pain. A better plan might be to get some friends together (there’s three bedrooms) and split the cost for a week. You can check it out at AmberjackLanding.com. I’m through with getting shitty service in over-priced hotels in places I didn’t want to go to in the first place. My vacations will all be “One cold drink from the beach.”
We hit the road at 4 a.m. on July 5. Seventeen hours later we rolled into Destin, Florida, where the traffic was bumper-to-bumper. The trip included a 3-hour layover in Nashville to repair the 70 mph blowout on the rental truck (the Ryder guy was there within one hour)…and a Hollywood-style car fire (not ours) north of Montgomery. But neither of these events held my fascination like the guy hiking through southern Illinois, carrying a cross. Whatever his well-intended message, it was diluted (for me) by the wheels he’d affixed to the base of the cross. I mean, if you’re going to put wheels on the cross, why not construct it of balsa wood. Or Styrofoam. Or make it inflatable. It reminded me of the Candice Bergen scene in Carnal Knowledge.