Off to the swamp so Wallace can see the alligators. He is considering heading back west a week early, since his hip is really slowing him down. Myself, I think he should buy a classy cane and head out to some fancy place, live it up. He has saved a fortune staying here and touring in the car, like I told him years ago. That overlooks the unpleasant surprise from his travel insurance outfit, but still. For the second time in history, I beat Wallace at a cribbage game. This morning. At 9:21. By 14 points. In front of 4 witnesses. In broad daylight. But I won’t dwell on it.
I also called Roland, my French-Canadien “neighbour” about the land use notice. He thinks he’ll be back for another year, and may want to buy something else. No word from the mystery lady who has been asking around about me, except the rumor that she wants to buy a three bedroom unit. Yes, but will she let my band practice in the living room? Women can be so fussy about that. Especially after you’ve made a commitment and they are paying half. It doesn’t make sense, why I’d let her band practice there…By noon, Wallace and I were on the way to Everglades City. For reasons unfathomable, he needed to say he’d been there, so we stopped along the way for an airboat ride. What a rush! At twenty bucks, you cannot go wrong. Well, Wallace’s twenty bucks. We had Cpt. Jeff from the Everglades Safari Park take us into the jungle for nearly an hour. Historical or not, it is one of the few accurately advertised and fairly priced deals in the State. Highly recommended: Everglades Safari Park.
The airboat tours all head south of the Tamiami (Tampa-Miami Military) trail, a trip across the swamp. The boats set up a roar that scares wildlife for miles, so the business may not be there forever. It is located at the western portion of Calle Ocho (8th Street) that heads across the Everglades to Naples. Just before Marco Island, where Highway 41 swings north near a tiny hick town called Everglades City.
Back in 2002, I had checked this place out. It was just opening up as a “retirement community”. It has got to be one of the strangest little towns in Florida. This is the source of all my comments about those tiny prefab housing units with obscene price tags ($81,000 back then). “Waterfront villa” means a dredged canal a block away. The advertising reads like each is on a private acre, but in fact they are less than 8 feet apart. It was open warfare trying to get the prices without completing a “survey”. Stay with your trailer, it is bigger.
We took over 120 photos today, which is more than I can personally document for a single chapter. Here is Wallace at the world’s smallest post office, zip 34141. How ironic that there was a fat girl working in there. To contribute to the overall effect, I’m mean. The post office was originally a pumping shed that had been pressed into service when a hurricane flattened the other. Later, we loaded up some heavy suitcases and gave Jose and his wife a ride to the Miami Airport. Once enough money was spent, the private owners really improved the access in and out of the terminal. It used to be a terrible arrangement, as if it were not bad enough to have an international airport in the middle of the city in the first place. With the corruption around here, don’t even think of moving the runways out to the Everglades. Even if the eastern tracts are mostly imported Malleleuca trees and Burmese pythons. (In fairness, I believe that the airport is there because south Florida was a pioneer in tourist flights in the 1930’s, and it was the city that grew around the airport.)
Look up also the history of that Australian Malleleuca. It was imported to “dry out” the swamps and got away on them. A spindly tree with no commercial value that grows so close together even the birds can’t get through. We passed areas that looked defoliated, so maybe they are gaining on it. Anyway, the airport was deserted, as they can be when the owners spend a wad renovating and try to pass the costs on to the traveler as a “departure tax” so we were back in town before 11:00 PM.This was interesting because Jose never gets out when his wife is around. Wallace wanted to stop for a beer, so we wound up doing a whirlwind tour until past midnight. First the Friendly Inn, which Wallace likes because you can smoke there. Then over to Flannigan’s to prove once and for all to everybody that there are NEVER, NEVER, NEVER any women in there, so quit saying there are. Then, I hauled the gang over to Jake’s, where there are women. Sure, with their boyfriends, but at least you can look over the wares. Which they really did a lot.
Trivia, since Wallace noted that Florida skies often have many different categories of clouds co-existing at the same time. If you watch the puffy clouds on a windy day, ever so often a small piece of the larger cloud breaks off and swirls away on its own. Those breakaway clouds have a name, they are called “scuds”. Like the missile. In equally exciting news, I also sampled Sawgrass. The other tourists were too chicken. Reputed to be able to keep one alive for days if you get to the lower stalks. You chew the juice out of it, for the sinews are too tough. It tastes like lawn clippings with a mild hint of cucumber. It is also safe because I ate it and I’m back to norbal.
[Author's note 2020: here is a lost video recovered in September 2020. Video is dated wrong as 2010, it was 2007, but trust me, the Everglades did not change in that spell.]
