Warren O'Florida

I’ve been in Florida for eight days now, and based on the television advertising I would guess that the number one industry is suing people as a result of automobile accidents. It is also mandatory that in every commercial transaction that the buyer is asked, and provides, their Christian name before the transaction.

I’ve made a couple of critical acquaintances: the bookstore owner and the cigar shop proprietor. The former offers excellent dining advice and the latter serves excellent espresso and will talk about anything.

Did you know that there is a separate genre of fiction known as Florida lit? You may have heard of some of the better known practitioners of this craft like Carl Hiaasen or Randy Wayne Wright, but there are dozens. They feature wacky, iconoclastic people and situations; my new friend at the bookstore talked me on to one by Tim Dorsey who writes about a psychopathic serial killer who only kills people who need to be killed. I’ll give you a report later. And while this is an easy place at which to poke fun, it reminds me of Long Island with good weather.

I promised not to speak of the weather too often, but it is sorta the point of the place after all, and there is something pretty nice about sitting at the beach in shorts and a tee shirt in mid-November, as I am right now.

I’ve been driving my mother and her pals to the hair dresser, the grocery store and assorted other places. Does anyone know why the seat belt is so difficult for old people to either operate or to accept as a part of riding in a car? I have to put the belt on for all the old ladies and my mother pops hers off the moment we pull into her development and off the public roads.

It’s been pretty quiet. My only adventure was trying to find a good sports bar where I could watch the Ohio State game Saturday. The first try was closed (who’d want to watch a game on a Saturday afternoon in November?) and I ended up driving to Daytona Beach, truly a Long Island wannabe. Florida was playing South Carolina and had the big TV at the first place I stopped. I was relegated to a TV smaller than my mother’s with no HD, and I was sitting next to a guy who couldn’t tell me enough about how much he hated Ohio State in between singing along to the bad country music on the box.

I moved on to a nearby Hooters during a timeout. They had 40 TVs and at least as many Hooter girls, but none of them could manage to get ESPN to come in on the satellite. I made my way to the heart of DB where there was another big sports bar, but could not find a place to park within 20 blocks (Long Island again). I drove up the coast, getting desperate. I saw a small bar and pulled in. I was ready for a 19” b&w if necessary. There were four TVs – all tuned to the ‘gator game, each with a small knot of bikers huddled in front of it. It didn’t look like a crowd I’d have much success negotiating with.

Back on the coast road up to Ormond Beach I found a little restaurant. It had one small TV. The ‘gators were on but no one seemed to be watching. I requested and was granted permission to change channels. The barmaid asked my name before taking my order and told me hers. “I won’t have any trouble remembering that” I told her, “That’s my daughter’s name.”

When she brought me my beer she asked me if I was from Ohio, one thing led to another and it turned out she was from my hometown of Warren. She worked at the Lordstown GM plant and knew some people I knew. Her dad was only two years older than me, an unhappy revelation that seems to happen more frequently these days. The final amazing thing about the afternoon’s adventure is that her husband is from Sleepy Hollow, where I lived for 20 years. What are the odds?

Ohio State beat Iowa in overtime to win the Big 10 for the fifth year in a row.