Is it just me, or does the beach seem empty without Bone?
If you read Friday's post carefully, you realize I never mentioned exactly where I was going. Sorry to be so secretive, but I'm sure most of you know how annoying the blog paparazzi can be.
Wolfgang, Little Joe, and I left early Friday morning. We stayed at the Boardwalk Beach Resort in Panama City, Florida. I'd driven over from Destin to Panama City before, but this was my first time to stay there.
After this trip, I can say without a doubt that I prefer Destin to Panama City. The hotel was excellent for the money. However, the crowd seemed more heavily teenaged and college-aged, and the water was quite seaweedy. I may or may not have just invented that word. Just go with it.
Nevertheless, it's the beach. Much time was spent swimming, floating, throwing frisbee and football, and lying in the sun. A fun time was had by all. But that's not to say there weren't a few minor mishaps along the way. I mean, with the Darryls, anything less would be disappointing.
The first misadventure of the weekend occurred Friday afternoon. Wolfgang had just gotten in the ocean when a wave crashed over my near-sighted, swimming-impaired friend, knocking off his glasses. He never found them, and spent the rest of the weekend trying to squint his way down to like 20/60 vision.
Our second misadventure occurred Friday night. As we drove around looking for something to eat, Wolfgang kept mentioning someplace called the All American Diner that he had eaten at before. Though it didn't sound extremely appetizing, I went with his suggestion, since this was the first time in two trips to the beach that either of them had come close to making a decision.
I was figuring the AAD would be like a Johnny Rockets, or maybe Al's Diner from Happy Days. Well, I never ate at Al's, but I don't remember the Fonz ever heaving in the "office."
A few minutes after we got back in the car, Wolfgang began complaining that his stomach was hurting. Mine was, too. Though I deserved it for violating my never-eat-cole-slaw-at-a-place-with-diner-in-its-name rule. As he groaned from the backseat, Wolfgang remarked, "Well, that's the second
bad experience I've had there." Um, excuse me? Then why in the world did you recommend it?!
Other than the ocean itself--the breeze, the sand, the waves, yada yada yada--my favorite thing about going to the beach is delighting my palate with delicious seafood. Needless to say, I picked where we ate for the rest of the weekend.
We ate Saturday evening at Pineapple Willy's, a little place located right on the beach where I finally got my seafood fix. The food and service were outstanding. Then Sunday before we left, we drove over towards Destin and had breakfast at my beloved Donut Hole. I brought home some key lime donuts.
In order to eliminate last year's issue of how to get sunscreen on my back, I came equipped this year with some SPF 10 spray-on sunblock, along with some SPF 8 and SPF 15 lotion. Still somehow my shoulders, chest, and stomach wound up the color of Revlon Cozy Rosy lipstick. On the good side, it gives me an excuse to cover myself liberally in aloe at least three times a day, which is never a bad thing.
With the sunscreen problem of a year ago alleviated, the most pressing issue facing the three virile amigos this year was where to sleep. While the hotel was right on the beach and fine otherwise, it only included two beds which were barely twin-sized, if that.
So we decided to play Xbox Friday night to decide who would get a bed to himself. Because that just seemed like the logical thing to do. And playing video games in the hotel room is what everyone does when they're at the beach, right? (We also made two trips to Wal-Mart, but I'm not sure any of you are ready for that much excitement yet.)
Well, Little Joe won at Xbox, which left Wolfgang and I to share a bed, or so I thought. I was planning on using towels and spare pillows to construct a hetero barrier down the center of the bed so as to avoid any awkward incidental touching during the night. But then out of the blue, Wolfgang volunteered to sleep on the floor, saying he wouldn't feel right about sharing a bed with me.
Saturday night, we played miniature golf to determine who got a bed to himself. I won, and I'm fully expecting Wolfgang or Little Joe to sleep on the floor. But no, they both sleep in the other bed. So Wolfgang isn't comfortable sleeping in the same bed with me, but he's fine sleeping with Little Joe? I wasn't sure whether to be offended or... very afraid. I'm still not.
The only other misadventure from the weekend that comes to mind is LJ's fashion "choices." Friday, he wore a hot pink Jesse Owens Memorial Run t-shirt from like 1995. Saturday, he sported a bright yellow Bowling For Kids Junior Achievement t-shirt. And Sunday, he selected a George Strait concert tee, circa 1998, which featured a large picture of King George himself on the front. All, of course, perfectly accented by his solid white Reeboks.
is my wingman?
"Now I've gotta say that the wind and the waves and the moon winking down at me, eases my mind..."
Labels: beach, little joe, panama city, wolfgang