Flamingo Orange Juice Retirement Sunshine Part I

A week ago I was with my family enjoying our last day at Lauderdale-by-the-Sea. We were sitting on our resort-provided beach chairs under our beach umbrellas (also resort-provided). And as the wind blew our hair, and the waves crashed and the foaming water reached our... asses which were hanging extra low on our chairs because duh it's vacation and everyone knows that part of your brain that says you're full is automatically turned off for the duration of your vacation.

I want to go back. On my first week back at work, I swear I could feel my body coming down with a fever. My bones were saying, you bitch, take me back to the sand and sea and no shoes on my feets!!!

One day of pouring rain (courtesy of Hurricane Irene which we narrowly missed) and possible-evacuation aside, it was a most wonderful week. And as vacations often go, it started with an unavoidable plane ride.

Aaah. Here we are again, where cabin pressure yields all sorts of weird behavior such as -

Spilling your secrets to your seat mate.

Wanting to throttle the flight attendant on your little screen wagging her finger as she says smoking is nooot allowed on this flight. Shut up!

Using the aisle as your gym. Come on! Can't you rest your stupid biceps and quads for a few hours? You are blocking the snack/ drink cart! Sit down!

Using the headrest in front of you as a support to stand up. Said headrest consequently becomes a catapult for the head that was resting on it.

And many more (feel free to insert observed behavior here ________)!

But let's move on. Touchdown in Fort Lauderdale had us removing our Seattle clothing layers. I mean, I started to feel the heat just from walking on the jetway from the plane to the arrival gate. I thought nothing could rival my home country's tropical heat where simply thinking of dressing up makes me sweat, but Florida was hot. I could feel my hair expanding into a wedge-shaped horror.



First on the agenda: buying food supplies for our week-long stay. Thanks to my Dad's old friend, we had a ride straight to the Asian store. We also had the most delish, Filipino-style taho, sold by a wise old Chinese man who gave us the stink-eye and a ferocious WE DON'T HAVE NAPKINS HERE when we asked for spoons and napkins and ignored his sign of No Eat-In.

After a take-out lunch of roast pork, barbecued pork, and roast duck plus rice combo, it was straight to the Windjammer Resort. And pardonnez-moi-gut-hanging-from-le-bikini, but the beach cannot wait.



ZOMG. It was glorious! There was just the right amount of breeze to have me and my sister drifting in and out of a light sleep. There were a few kids but they were amazingly well-behaved and any shouting was drowned out by the sound of waves.

And suddenly it was time to get ready for dinner. After driving past a couple of strip malls, we decided on a casual dinner at the Red Lobster. Except... except the diners looked like they were dressed for a swankier place. Let's just get this out of the way, they like their clothes snug in Florida. No pardonnez-moi-rolls-spilling-out-of-le-tube-top for them. The label on that dress that says size 0? Who cares? If it zips, it fits. They just own it! And frankly - danger of eye disease aside - I love that confidence.

After dinner we headed to Hard Rock, um, I don't know how to describe it. It had a parking lot as big as an airport. It had several restaurants and clubs and shops and a sprawling casino. What is it? Is it a city in a building? Why are there so many people? What is that woman wearing? Is that a mask, or is it someone's enhanced face?! Why are the stores still open when it's almost midnight? Is this hell? Am I in hell already?!? I'm sorry okay! For all my sins!

And that's how Day 1 ended. Day 2 was a lazy Sunday - Mass, brunch, more laying out on the beach. Pre-Snack. Snacks. Swimming Pool. Pre-Dinner. Beach. Dinner. Second Dinner.

Day 3 was a trip to Key West. What a charming old town, where one is free from the trappings of consumerism... Until you walk to the corner Banana Republic, flanked by Express, across the street from Hard Rock Cafe, a few steps from a nice view of the hulking, docked cruise ship. Just kidding (but not really). It's actually a beautiful place. All those old houses with wrap-around decks and louvered windows. Oh and we were at Conch Republic having lunch when the skies opened up and it poured. Really poured. And then it was as if nothing happened. Moments later it was skin-burning hot once again - a special Florida talent.

The end of Day 3 had us rolling out of the car that night, hungry and rumpled from the long trip but ready for Day 4.

[In a movie-trailer-voice over] Coming up: Sand. Warm beer. Waves. Sand in your butt crack. Miami. Miami Beach. Stay tuned.