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Handy Spring Break Guide, 2018

By Chris Colcord

Fort Wayne Reader

2018-02-15

Like many other Hoosiers, I, too, go to work in some high-rise and then vacation down at the Gulf of Mexico, and while I'm aware that most winners and losers will tell you that that ain't no big deal, it is to me, for I have learned to appreciate the myriad, gonzo peculiarities of the oddball state where I vacation. This Spring more than 26 million tourists will invade Florida during the months of January, February, and March, and that number will include a lot of people from Fort Wayne. There are direct flights from Fort Wayne and Indy, after all, and for anybody looking to escape the cold for a while, Florida remains the primary destination. I'm sure a lot of Spring Breakers bought their tickets a long time ago.

I've already taken my trip to Florida this year, spending a week in Fort Myers in January, and as a public service, I'd like to give all impending vacationers from our state a little heads-up about what to expect this year in Florida. As usual, you can expect the requisite balmy temps and crowded beaches and tacky bars with umbrellaed drinks but you should also be prepared for some truly bizarre behavior from both the people and animals that make the Sunshine State the most eccentric territory in the United States. For instance:

Pythons trying to eat alligators? Check. Frozen iguanas that fall off trees and then thaw out and become pissy and lash out at anybody that's tried to harvest them? Check. Florida has had a surprisingly cold winter this year, causing the Iguana Apocalypse, but the spring temps will certainly have alleviated that particular problem. But the pythons and alligators — who are legion — remain a potential hazard, which is something to consider for those traveling with pets. Don't let Muffy or Duke get too frisky when nosing around the pond near the 13th green of the golf course in your gated community. Make sure to pack a leash, or you might have one of those vacation memories that will scar your kids for life. Au revoir, Fido. Gator, bon appetit.

As for questionable human behavior, well, you might want to steer clear of most Goodwill stores. Shortly after I left Florida this year, the news story broke about a donation left in the Bradenton Goodwill bin--a fully armed grenade launcher. Not exactly something you'd expect to see on the shelf next to the dolphin figurines and those "It's Five O'Clock Somewhere!" bar plaques. Although I'm loathe to question anyone's altruistic impulses--hell, I've given to Goodwill myself--I still have to wonder about the thought process that led to that particular donation. Maybe the guy had a few extra grenade launchers in his garage and thought, Hey, you know what? This is just excessive. And so he just decided to unload one in the donation bin (after midnight, I'm guessing.) Maybe it's just his way of Paying It Forward.
If you do manage to avoid the iguanas and pythons and alligators and grenade launchers, though, you should also be aware of another potential local hazard: seniors. Florida is Retirement Central of the United States, which is something that will become readily apparent to you shortly after you get in your rental car. As of 2012, there were 455 registered drivers in Florida who were over 100 years old, and another 65,000 licensed drivers between the ages of 91 and 100. To say that this impedes traffic flow is a mild understatement; not to slag on the elderly, but older drivers do tend to move at a decidedly more leisurely pace than other drivers, thus the grim local phrase, "The Florida Parade." Something to consider when gauging how long it'll take to make that dinner date. And as for walking, forget it: outside of a few habitable downtown areas, everybody's at the mercy of the traffic.

But hey, beaches! Florida still has more coastline than any of the other contiguous states. And there's other natural wonders to behold. If you're visiting the areas that bore the brunt of Hurricane Irma, it's astonishing to view the expanse of the destruction and to see the reconstruction going on. In Marco Island, where we stayed, we had a great vista from the top of the our condominium where we could see the aftermath: roofs torn off, the swath of downed palm trees and awning. There was precious little loss of life in the calamity, thank God, and it was heartening to see the natives responding with that "hurricane resolve" that's become a point of pride among residents.

Of course, the true "native" Floridians are becoming a vanishing tribe. Of the current 19 million Florida residents, about 6 million were born and bred, which means that about 68% of the population comes from somewhere else. I've always been surprised by how many relocated Midwesterners I've encountered on the Gulf side of Florida, but when you look at a roadmap, it makes sense: I-75, which cuts through the west coast of Florida, begins in Michigan, runs through Ohio. I-75 replaced the Dixie Highway, the famous old thoroughfare that deposited generations of Midwesterners on the beaches of Florida. It explains why even now the Ft.Myers/Naples area has a decidedly Midwestern feel, and why Miami — which is the terminus of I-95, the highway that traverses the East Coast of the United States — has a more big city, cosmopolitan vibe.

Staying in Marco Island this year was relatively luxurious; we stayed in a ritzy, high-priced condo that quietly prided itself on keeping out the "riff raff." Now, to be clear, most years, we are the riff raff: budget conscious, low-key. But if you live long enough, I've learned, at some point you'll know a friend of a friend of a friend who has a joint in Florida not being used, and suddenly you're in the elevator of some exclusive tower, headed up to the 14th floor with somebody else's vacation keys in your hand. When that happens, enjoy the view. It's so great up there that you'll forget about the pythons and the alligators. And the iguanas.