Vultures Make Me Nervous

Today is a travel review, not our usual football theme.  I would like to tell you about Cedar Key, Flahriddah.  I spent yesterday there.

Mimsy and I have been to a lot of places in Florida over the years, and we have enjoyed pretty much every one of them.  From St. Augustine down the coast to Daytona, New Smyrna, Ft. Lauderdale, Boca, Jupiter, Miami, the Keys, Alligator Alley, Lake Okeechobee, Cape Coral, Venice and every place up the coast to Homosassa, plus lots of places on the interior of the state.  We have done the theme parks, the roadside attractions, all manner of fun touristy stuff...we've experienced a lot of Florida and loved it.

Up until yesterday, we hadn't been to the northwest coast, the area between the towns north of Clearwater and the panhandle.  So, when I stumbled onto Cedar Key on a net search, I got pretty excited.  Cedar Key is portrayed as a laid back, artsy village that offers good sea food, relaxation and a little bit of old Florida, sort of an off the path Key West.  I love the idea of undiscovered gems.

The tariff for this was a 47 mile ride off the interstate.  Less than an hour to go from the main highway to private paradise.  I was pumped up! We had an extra day on our schedule, so this jaunt to Cedar Key was ideal.  Leaving I-75 at Lake City, FL, we headed west.  Hurricane Isaac was pushing big clouds our way and there was intermittent rain to go with the overcast.  The GPS was programmed for Cedar Key.  We drove through some raggedy areas with sparsely scattered residential units (being kind here), undeterred by the rather unattractive landscape.  Some cattle ranches popped up along the way; that was a highlight in this endless forest-swamp-forest scenery.  After about a half hour, my son noticed that the GPS was calculating our ETA at an hour to go.  This was the first bit of foreshadowing that our adventure would be a little departure from our expectations. Still, we expected great things to come.

That's when we noticed that there were vultures everywhere along the road, big black vultures in the trees, watching as we rolled along.  Creepy.

When we rolled into Cedar Key a loooonnnnng time later, we found not so much a paradise unaffected by time as much as a run down little town that seems to be stubbornly clinging to a promise.  It's a combo ghost town-painted lady- fishing village.  There's a few blocks of main streets, stacked up and leading to the shore where the main cafes, restaurants, bars and shops are situated.  Crossing the bridge to that row of buildings, the first thing you see it a large, weathered restaurant building on piers over the water with a sign that permanently proclaims tongue-in-cheek "now serving breakfast".  Ha!  Must be a 'round the clock place, huh?  When we got around to the other side, we found that it's abandoned.  'Round the clock empty.

Walking down the street, there's businesses on both sides, looking chicly tattered.  Recall the foreshadowing here.  Half of the places weren't open, with no indication of when they might be or might have been.  Still, there was lots of promise in the appearance of the others, until we found that they were pretty much deserted.   Mimsy picked one of the two restaurants that looked to be open and we went in for lunch.

It appeared she had chosen well: a big woody room on the second floor over a fun looking bar, with floor to ceiling windows looking out over the water, a friendly waitress and a broad, albeit pricey, menu. Cut to the chase: The priciest meal of the trip, pretty crappy food.  We paid up and strolled the business area and found...nothing to do.  We did find cats everywhere.  Sullen, scrawny cats, staring defiantly at us and at each other, like the in-town counterparts of the highway vultures.

One of the freaky guardians of the streets of Cedar Key.

Next, we chose one of the two motels that our waitress had recommended, the Gulf Side.  Back up yet again to the foreshadowing.  The little place was brightly painted with a front yard on the water leading to a huge two level wooden fishing pier that extended over a hundred feet into the Gulf.  Retro, that's the word I heard from the smiling woman at the check-in desk as she took the same amount of money I had paid for a sleek ultra-modern room the day before. It was a bit later that we found there were no stairs to the top level of the pier, just a hole in the middle where the stairs might have once been.  So appropriate to this place...

If they tell you it's retro, leave at once.

When we fled the room early the next morning, an hour before daybreak, we had had quite enough of our tenement on the water. It was clean, I'll give it that credit.  It was also tiny, teeny tiny claustrophobic small...and old, like it was held together by a hundred coats of paint, though none recent... and dangerous, as evidenced by the yelp from my son when he got an electrical shock through his computer that left a burn mark on his stomach.  The air conditioner in the bedroom window droned on and on, giving its all, to no avail, as it was challenged beyond its ability by the gap under the front door.  No lock on the bathroom door, but we're family, so overlook it.  Two TV channels on an ancient little set.  America's Funniest Videos with a reference to the 2009 season...maybe we are in the Twilight Zone?

All that aside, Mimsy and I were glad that we went.  It's the journey sometimes, really it is, that's more important than the destination, and we took a giggle from this one that we can talk about.
It helps, too, that I'm writing this from the luxury of a really  kickin' room on the 11th floor of the Westin overlooking Tampa Bay.  No vultures!