Bucko's World

Wednesday 12th

Having been raving about Florida so much, I feel I should tell you something I don't like about it.  The water.  Not off the beach, but out of the tap.  The thing is, there is no way of getting cold water out of a faucet.  And brushing your teeth in warm water is nasty.  The other end of the scale is how hot the water is from the shower.  With no cold water per se, the hot has no competition.  Every morning I get out of the shower looking like a freshly done lobster, with my overly cheek boned face looking like a baboon's arse.  Although I'm sure most people think it looks like that most of the time anyway.

For entertainment today we decide to head off the one of Florida's many national parks, a series of offshore islands linked by amazing causeways of the type that get spectacularly blown up in Arnold Schwarzenegger movies.  Luckily he wasn't around today and we make it safely across to the unfortunately named Sanibel (I can't help but think of Saniflow...) albeit shy of $6.00 toll and head to the visitor centre to book a little boat trip across Tarpon Bay to see spectacular birds, Manatees, Porpoise, and an occasionally a shark or two!!  Big grins all round should be guaranteed.

First though, we head off to the wonderfully named Over Easy Cafe for a spot of tucker.  It's brilliant.  They do breakfast till three, and have no less than five pages of the menu dedicated to the most important meal of the day.  There's one whole page just on the variations of eggs Benedict that they do.  We, off course are very English about the whole thing and have a Chicken BLT wrap with coleslaw and a Chicken Deluxe burger with avocado, mushrooms and a ranch dressing.  And the first fries of the hols if you can believe that!  The food is huge and gorgeous.  I'm also not sure they've ever had anyone from the UK in here before, judging by the puzzled look our young waitron gives us.  It's a nice touch.

Appetite sated, we make are way over to our boat trip and have a quick half hour of "touching the marine life of Tarpon Bay".  Disappointingly, this mainly involves being handed shells from which the contents had already been removed by other more violent shell dwellers earlier in the day.  A true lesson in the laws of nature for some of our younger viewers....

The boat trip is pleasant enough, other than we see nothing resembling a Porpoise, Manatee or Giant Turtle.  Getting told "there was a big shark in here this morning" and "last week a Manatee was seen wresting a giant sea snake" doesn't raise the mood at all when all you have to amuse you is a baby pelican almost choking its mother to death having got its bill stuck in her throat whilst feeding.  Not exactly entertainment, although the crew seem pleased to have a tale to tell over their icy brews tonight..

Actually the boat ride gets cut short when a thunderstorm, which was visible miles away over land when we set out on the trip, races its way across the bay to where we are, in the middle of a saltwater lake, in a metal boat.  Joy - of all the ways to go.  Luckily other than a couple of massive claps of thunder, enough to shake the boat, and the nerves, we make it back to dry land seconds before it is no longer dry, and soon as wet as the lake.

The drive back to the beach is unbelievable.  Unless you were in a car with us back at Clearwater in 2009, the amount of rain that falls in half an hour is pretty indescribable.  As we go back across the causeway it's three or four inches deep and as we make it onto the bridge section it's like driving up a waterfall.  Luckily our holiday 4X4 was built in Korea and is obviously used to this sort of stuff.

Undeterred, we decided retail therapy is required, and head to the local outlet mall.  Although I have promised I wouldn't buy any trainers this time round, having still got three unworn pairs from last time, I am soon in possession of three more pairs and valiantly trying to justify my purchase by saying that I'll dump all the shoes I brought with me here to make room for them.  Strangely, I also find myself in possession of a watch, which is extremely odd as I never wear one.  All this water has obviously gotten into my brain.

I then find the Calvin Klein outlet, and being a big fan of Back to the Future, decide to buy myself some of his finest pants.  Little did I know that when I got back to the hotel and had a look at them, I would find I had purchased a blue and white stripy pair that make me look like a fat, gay, french onion seller once they are covering my arse - terrific.  They were, however, less than half the price they are in the UK so bring on the poofy French and be done with it.  Lisa has some success too, and looks less homosexual sporting a couple of wicked CK hand bags which put her usual Primark ones to shame.

After such a wet couple of hours we decided to eat in the hotel, and make our way to Chloe's Bar, for a pre prandial glass of vino, only to be treated to quite simply the worst Karaoke ever witnessed.  Firstly, the bar is empty other than one table of Yanks for whom this is seemingly top quality entertainment.  And then there's the woman running it.  She is quite simply dreadful.  She couldn't hit a note if it was tied to an elephant's arse and she had a cricket bat.  And three goes.  She tortures us, then Granddad from the Yanks' tortures us.  Then little apple pie cheeks Mary Lou gets up and murders a Gabrielle song to massive applause, tears and showers of flowers from her fawning family and over the top praise from the Compere.  "I think you're after my job little missy!" she simpers.  No shit Sherlock, the way you murder the next song, she's pushing you all the way in the awful stakes.  She'll no doubt audition for American Idol, get turned down, develop a drug habit and die sad and lonely having waitressed for all her life while waiting for her "big break".  If you'd been honest, she'd have got a job in a bank and become a cynical bastard like the rest of us.

One drink is all we can manage before we head off for dinner.  "Don't leave yet" says the Barman, "I'm up next, and I can't sing for shit!"  Chuckles ensue all round.

One of my favourite things about the States is how they cut a cow up slightly differently from us, giving us beef ribs and prime rib instead of Fore Rib and Wing End.  And tonight is the first time Lisa actually orders Prime.  I, of course, have ordered the full 12OZ man sized portion, whereas L sticks with the ladies sized 8OZ.  Bollocks if they don't look the same size when they came up!  And this oozing juice, boneless beef chop, served with a beef jus and horseradish cream is beyond heavenly.  Sided with a proper American jacket spud (sour cream AND butter!) I challenge anyone to show me a better meal in London for the £25 this costs.  Add in the Lobster Burrito we had to start and I think Greg Wallace would explode in an big, fatty bald lump.

Full to the gills and properly done in, we see out the day on the balcony, Pinot Grigios in hand, watching the remnants of the storm roaring on out to sea.  Lack of wildlife or not, it has been a day which has highlighted the power of nature in all its glory, and hopefully before the trip is out we'll get to see some of it that isn't falling extremely loudly out of the sky.