Days 4 & 5 -- Plan B

Day 4 -- Hollywood, FL, Westin Diplomat Resort.
As you know -- if not, you do now -- people watching is a religion to me. I've been honing my skill since I was in High School. It's only in recent years that I have moved from people critic to people watcher; both involve looking people over but how you react to the observation is the difference. In undergraduate college my gang and I were vicious about it. We declared ourselves the fashion police long before you heard that expression on cable TV. We used to issue fashion citations on the corner of South Court and Union in lovely Athens, OH. The penalty for violations was self-destruction; "kill yourself immediately" was the phrase. We didn't really do this, of course; just talked about it. Regretably my children, at least the three youngest have black belts in criticism. One of the few things their mother and I had in common.

Now, I just like looking at people. Particularly couples. How did they pick each other? What did they look like on their wedding day; particularly if they have managed to be pretty rotund even in their youth. I always wonder what the men are like at work. Probably the one and only time you'll hear me admit to thinking about men.

My point is that people watching at a four star hotel (where I was staying today) is wonderful. Of course you have your basic "I wonder how she/he can afford to stay here." Or "I wonder whose paying the bill for him/her?" Older couples are always great because they seem to be at once joined at the hip and oblivious to the other at the same time. I always wonder what they looked like on there wedding day. During the brief period I was out in the sun today, I saw many orthodox jews with their families and I always want to understand what they can and cannot do with respect to acceptable dress for sunbathing and so forth. I sat next to a couple who were looking and an iPod Touch. They were in their late teens. I have no idea what their religous beliefs were. The kid had on baggy cargo shorts, like every other teen age boy, but he had about six or eight gold chains around his neck hanging down to his navel with crosses and stuff. Seemed very Mr. T'ish.

My biggest dissapointment in missing the cruise was to marvel at the eclectic mix of people in the singles group; let alone the amusement park crowd that are on lower end cruise lines.

So, Plan B? What to do after the cruise debacle. Well it's too damn expensive to stay where I am. So, here's what I decided. There's no point busting my ass to get back to Michigan to freeze my ass off. If I drive to Jacksonville or Savannah, the temps will only be in the 50's or 60's. I'm in south Florida where it's 80; how far can I go north and save a couple bucks and keep the 80 degree temps? Wouldn't you know it. My least favorite place (almost) in Florida: Daytona Beach.

Day 5 -- Daytona Beach
A beach you can drive on. NASCAR town. The world's most famous beach. Yep, that's the place. I'm in a Holiday Inn right on the beach for $108/night -- a little cheaper than West Palm or Boca. Actually I feel much more relaxed here. Maybe I'm an elitist and I like hanging out with people I believe to be inferior to me (NOT!) or I'm just a regular Joe with a little bit of sense who feels comfortable in less pretenious environments.

Daytona is my least favorite place in Florida becuase it is tacky, cheesy and it's insane to drive cars on a beach where thousands of children are playing. Years ago I let Kathy (Mrs. B II) plan and make the arrangements for a family vacation. Kathy is not wont to spend a lot of money on anything. When I heard we were booked in Daytona, I shallowed hard and kept my mouth shut. We packed up the mini van and headed south. We had a routine down pat. We would take the middle seat out of the van and make a bed for the kids there. Then we'd leave around dinner time and drive through the night while the kids slept. We would arrive around noon exhusted but satified to be there. I can remember constantly watching the cars on the beach and having multiple heart failures when kids (not mine) ran in front of cars. Haven't been back until today.

I took a short walk on the beach after I got here -- what a ghost town. The price of gas must be killing this place. I couldn't find a place that had more than two people watching the Super Bowl. I dined at the ever elegant Bubba Gump's and -- surprise, suprise -- the salmon and veggie thing I had was good. What movie runs there constantly? I guess it's obvious. And they don't turn it off for the Super Bowl.

I saw a whispy young girl (don't get ahead of me, it's nothing like that) and I had a naustalgic flashback to my days as a middle school science teacher in Centerville, Ohio in the early to mid 70's. I became a teacher because I decided that I didn't want to attend dental school, even though I had a small scholorship -- and a wife and baby boy; and so I taught to keep out of Vietnam. At that time I was 22 and my students were 14. That was tough to handle at times -- but I handled it. Later when I taught middle school I was five years older and had a Master's in Education. The point is I felt much more like a father figure/mentor than a big brother. The girl on the beach reminded me of my little fan club and how much I liked them and felt protective. We had this understanding that I expected a lot out of them -- grades and behavior -- and they expected me to fair and teach them something. Some of them had crushes on me which was flattering I guess. The girl on the beach reminded me of Chris Clark. She was very quite and demure and smart and pretty. One not-so-fine day John Swartz, the pain-in-the-ass German teacher, made Chris cry in class. Oh, my God!! I could have killed him. . . Teaching gave me the best memories of my whole career but I'm glad I left when I did before I got bitter and lazy.

You know the book Blink by Malcolm Gladwell? It has to do with the amount of information the brain can process in an instant -- a blink. I can't articulate his thesis except to say that the brain has a huge capacity to process information almost instantly. He gives many examples. Well that was what happened when I saw the girl and was transported back to the 70's. I'm so nostalgic lately!

I'm still sick. Not any better; maybe worse. Tomorrow I recouperate, I hope, in Daytona and look at it with my more accepting mature eyes -- except this driving on the beach shit. After that, well see.

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[Sorry, spell check is still down.]