I went on vacation to Florida.
There’s nothing quite like a Florida vacation — it has it all. Plenty of sunshine. Mickey Mouse and Disney, set to the background music of “It’s a Small World.” A fresh seafood restaurant on every corner. Condos on the beach. The Shell Factory. Glass-bottomed boats and alligators. Epcot and Sea World.
I saw pictures of every one of those things in my Florida vacation guide, which I read while I spent my vacation in a senior citizens RV/trailer park on the Caloosahatchee River. With my mother.
The great thing about spending a week in a senior citizens park is if you are under 55, you get to be the hot chick of the park. I’m 45, so I figured my position was secure.
I kept track of the trip highlights. I’ve organized them in a sort of retrospective itinerary, for easy reading.
DAY 1
Broke into a sweat. I called my husband, Seth, to let him know. Lousy cellular service here because we lost the connection.
My mother’s obsession with re-using Styrofoam cups seems to be much improved this year. Last year, each family member was allowed one cup a day, so I had to write my name on my cup with ink and resist the urge to make bite impressions in the Styrofoam. If you ruined your cup, hello, water hose. This year we are drinking bottled water.
DAY 2
Drove to Super Wal-Mart to purchase a three-day fishing license. Funny thing — you can’t get a three-day fishing license without giving your Social Security number to the Wal-Mart cashier in sporting goods, the cashier with the tattoo of Satan on his forearm. Mom didn’t know her Social Security number. Which is perfectly understandable, since she’s only had 64 years to memorize it.
The tattooed Wal-Mart employee had a suggestion. “You could apply for a gun permit. You don’t have to give your Social Security number for that.”
I thought about it. “Well, Mom, that may not be a bad idea. We could shoot the fish.”
DAY 3
Morning — Went back to the Super Wal-Mart and exchanged our identity for a three-day license. I hope the fish are biting.
Afternoon — the fish aren’t biting.
But I called Seth anyway to tell him how relaxing it was to sit on the pier with our fishing lines in the water. Phone service is really terrible down here, and we lost connection again.
DAY 4
Went to the park pool. Got on mom’s 34-year-old three-wheeled bike and rode to the pool. The bike seemed to lean to one side so I compensated by leaning the other way. I wore my one-piece suit, as I was concerned that exposing too much flesh might cause some heartbeat irregularities in some of the men with pacemakers. It’s not easy being the hot chick.
It was a short ride, and I parked my bike between another three-wheeler and a golf cart. I walked around the pool and climbed the steps to the sun deck. Looking down over the clear blue water, I saw a lot of older women bobbing up and down in the shallow end of the pool. In unison. They were doing water calisthenics. There were also three elderly gentlemen in the pool. They weren’t doing calisthenics, but were standing together, facing in the same direction, fixated on something. I wondered if there was a fire.
As it turns out, there was a fire a down below — if you count the whole-lot-hotter-than-me-chick in her bikini, stretched out on her belly, swimsuit unsnapped in back, getting herself a little melanoma.
Overcome by excitement, one of the old boys finally hoisted himself up the ladder and out of the pool, shuffled over to the hot chick in the bikini and planted himself in the nearest chair. Facing her.
I called Seth to discuss the woman in the bikini and the miracle of Viagra. The phone connection was much better at the pool, and he listened to the whole sordid story and even asked for details.
DAY 5
My dad and his musician friends had a country music show in the park this afternoon. About 200 residents turned out for the concert. I got to be the MC!
My joke for the post menopausal crowd:
What is the difference between a woman with PMS and a terrorist?
A little lipstick.
The crowd went wild.
Only two more days here.
DAY 6
Went to Golden Corral for supper, at 3:59 p.m. We got the lunch prices.
DAY 7
My time here is over. I notice I’m completely de-stressed. Maybe I need to write my own vacation guide?
Theresa Timmons’ column, “Home Delivery,” runs every other Friday. She is an Elwood resident and can be reached at paperflinger40@yahoo.com.
