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elfsThe next morning, Omaha went out early with her mother while the girls and I finished packing our clothes and the car. We had the Radisson's continental breakfast (which, Omaha and I agree, was illegitimately lumped into the other complimentary amenities when it wasn't complimentary, unlike at the Hyatt). We caught up with Omaha and then it was time to hit the road again.
On the way out, we passed a number of interesting signs. "The Love Grove" turned out to be an elementary school, and not another gentleman's club. "Woody's Barbecue" promised us "Sloppy Woodys" and "A Taste of Woodys," neither of which appealed. And finally there was "Kemp's Chiropractic - Functional Neurology." Uh huh. If you're practicing functional neurology, the Singularity is near. Given that the shop's sign had a brain being struck by Hollywood's notion of charged atoms, comet trails and all, I suspect woo.
The Castillo San Marcos The next place we hit was St. Augustine. It wasn't on the itinerary, but we had left early and it looked interesting. It was, actually. The oldest city (founded by Europeans) in the Americas, founded in 1569, it also has an ancient fortress, the Castillo San Marcos, that gives you a great appreciation for just how tight, small, and miserable the wilderness fortress must have been under fire. At one time 1500 Spaniards survived for months in a plot of land little bigger than the entire property of my house, while the English hovered close enough to see the whites of their eyes.
We also did a tour of the oldest civilian home in the town, an 18th century construction that had been added onto over the years. The guide was a British expatriate who mentioned that the town had been founded by the Spanish, "held for 21 glorious years by the British," then turned back to the Spanish, who later surrendered it to the Americans. He had an admitted fondness for kitchen gadgets, and showed off some 19th century innovations, such as the "brick fireplace. Which we do. Because we're British. In Florida." And a black cylinder on a metal shaft that I successfully identified as the coffee roaster.
The family at St. Augustine. We had lunch at a burger grill along the beach where they forgot my order, but it was all good when it arrived. Gassed up at a truck stop; it was disconcerting to see a bunch of truckers watching Mad Max in the break room. Drove to Canaveral, where we passed the Vehicle Assembly Building, which must be the saddest building in the world right now.
Omaha and I giggled as we passed bars where she had worked when she was much younger, then got into Melbourne, which I barely recognized.
26 years of love started right here. We stopped at Florida Institute of Technology, where we initally went to school. I told the guard that we were alumni from 1985-1989, and asked where we could park. "Anywhere," he said. "Nobody's here right now." The place had changed, but Omaha and I found a few familiar sights, and Kouryou-chan took this picture of us at the very seat where we first met, 26 years ago.
We found our favorite restaurant, Makoto's Hibachi Grill and Sushi, and had a fabulous meal together. They've changed the sauces and they're not as good as they used to be; the liver pate is also drier than it used to be. Pity, that. Still, the hibachi was fun and the kids enjoyed it. Kouryou-chan was especially happy to get her chef's hat.
We drove on to Orlando, passing by Bare Assets, Omaha's first bar. Saturday's, once the only gay bar in Melbourne, was gone, as was the sleazy bookstore that sat on the block east of it. The once two-lane gator road, 192, is now a full-fledged seperated two-lanes highway. But Holopaw, halfway between Melbourne and Kissimmee, is still as podunkt as ever.
We got into the hotel around 10:30pm, and just went straight to sleep.
On the way out, we passed a number of interesting signs. "The Love Grove" turned out to be an elementary school, and not another gentleman's club. "Woody's Barbecue" promised us "Sloppy Woodys" and "A Taste of Woodys," neither of which appealed. And finally there was "Kemp's Chiropractic - Functional Neurology." Uh huh. If you're practicing functional neurology, the Singularity is near. Given that the shop's sign had a brain being struck by Hollywood's notion of charged atoms, comet trails and all, I suspect woo.
The Castillo San Marcos
We also did a tour of the oldest civilian home in the town, an 18th century construction that had been added onto over the years. The guide was a British expatriate who mentioned that the town had been founded by the Spanish, "held for 21 glorious years by the British," then turned back to the Spanish, who later surrendered it to the Americans. He had an admitted fondness for kitchen gadgets, and showed off some 19th century innovations, such as the "brick fireplace. Which we do. Because we're British. In Florida." And a black cylinder on a metal shaft that I successfully identified as the coffee roaster.
The family at St. Augustine.
Omaha and I giggled as we passed bars where she had worked when she was much younger, then got into Melbourne, which I barely recognized.
26 years of love started right here.
We found our favorite restaurant, Makoto's Hibachi Grill and Sushi, and had a fabulous meal together. They've changed the sauces and they're not as good as they used to be; the liver pate is also drier than it used to be. Pity, that. Still, the hibachi was fun and the kids enjoyed it. Kouryou-chan was especially happy to get her chef's hat.
We drove on to Orlando, passing by Bare Assets, Omaha's first bar. Saturday's, once the only gay bar in Melbourne, was gone, as was the sleazy bookstore that sat on the block east of it. The once two-lane gator road, 192, is now a full-fledged seperated two-lanes highway. But Holopaw, halfway between Melbourne and Kissimmee, is still as podunkt as ever.
We got into the hotel around 10:30pm, and just went straight to sleep.
