Days 22 and 23 - Nursing Our Wounds and Racing to Daytona

The day after 'Tomato-gate', the three of us were paralyzed by pain, punished by our bad choices. Conversations were conducted with grimaces as we gritted our teeth through homoerotic aloe vera application. In a move of what can only be described as pure bravery, Jannick stridently strode out into the sun-kissed car park and drove to the pharmacy to collect us our holy grail of remedies - aloe vera cool gel. He arrived back to our lightless cave and brandished the bottle with defiant celebration above rapturous applause. Or maybe he just sort of walked in.

Jan a la rouge

That bottle served our raw hides well, but there was not much else we were going to make of the day - gloriously sunny though it may have been. Sob. We huddled up in the room until lunch, when Joe went out to grab us lunch (another Whataburger triumph); Jan and I stuck around the hotel attending to menial tasks like doing our laundry and dousing our bodies' flames with cold water. Joe's recovery seemed to be on a speedier plane than that of Jannick and myself. In fact, I was perhaps the most profoundly hit by starry heat because of my lack of a life-saving base tan. The boys had both cultivated some brown on holidays before YankeeLashLadsBoozeCruise2K13. The rest of the afternoon passed by fairly uneventfully; we watched some football and mooched around glued to our screens.

Yummo

At dinner time, we deemed it safe to crawl out from our dank den and go in search of more food (is this all we do?); we were heading to a barbecue place for some real American prime rib, if we could get it please. This place was closed at 8.08 on a Tuesday evening - crushing news - so we went to Joe's back up barbecue place a bit further down the road. The establishment was called Mojo, which its food had by the American gallon. We ordered the 'Whole Hawg' for three, and shared a meat platter that would have threatened to sate even Henry VIII's most voracious appetite. Blackened chicken, pulled pork, beef brisket, ribs and sausage. All of the nom.

Mashed potato, french fries, and some token greens

Packed to the gunnels with what felt like half of Old MacDonald's farm, we returned home for another aloe soak and to get some rest after a hectic day. We watched a fairly good heist thriller called Empire State and called it a night.

The next day we were hunting new beach booty - the iconic Daytona. The drive was one of the prettiest of the entire trip; ocean views and streaming sunshine were in bountiful supply, and our eyes lapped them up. Our skin was a little less enthusiastic though, and we did our best to shelter our vulnerable limbs from the sun-soaked sky.

Beach residences on the road to Daytona

We passed through a couple of very nice towns, including Flagler Beach and St. Augustine. The former was used as a pit stop and a cheeky camera opp, while the second struck us a town that broke the trend of the average Floridian settlement, seemingly offering the richest cultural footprint of any city we had seen in a while. It turns out that St. Augustine does have a few feathers in its historical cap, tracing its story back about five-hundred years when it was explored by Spaniards. Since then it was settled by the British, and then the Spanish again. The city was also a major site of the 1960s Civil Rights Movement, where clashes of Ku Klux Klan members and protesters yielded many arrests and wide media coverage. Martin Luther King, Jr. himself visited St. Augustine at the request of the local civil rights leader Robert Hayling. In a poignant coincidence, we were driving through this town on the 50th anniversary of Dr. King's March on Washington, a date that I had initially anticipated after seeing the plaque at the Lincoln Memorial a couple of weeks ago. Back in the mid-1960s, public revulsion of the Klan's violence in St. Augustine helped push through the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965.

Flagler Beach

More houses should be like this

We arrived in Daytona in time for lunch, so we dropped our stuff off at the hotel - Hilton Oceanfront Resort, don't mind if we do - and braved the 30 degree temperatures for some lunch. Joe, our new restaurant-locator-extraordinnaire was in the mood for some Tex-Mex and had found a Cuban restaurant in the vicinity. A quick drive, a sit, and a glass of water later and we were ordering our food: sizzling fajitas for me and Jan, and a Cuban steak with fried plantains for Joe. It was absolutley scrumptious to say the least, and quite a spectacle at the same time!

#hylyf

After lunch we cruised back to the hotel and rocked up poolside. Fearing a trip to the beach might bring further onslaught to the epidermis, we settled for a lounger and a chlorine dip. We waited for the water to fall under the shade of the Hilton tower before getting in and doing a few laps. Bit of exercise in'nit? After a couple of hours by the pool, we shot up back to the room for showers, aloe, and arrangements for the night. It was our last evening with Joe, as he was leaving us on a plane to Texas the following morning, so we thought it best that he chose a restaurant (again). His eagle eyes and efficient processors discovered Boondock's, a seaside seafood restaurant not far away.

We each enjoyed some legendary crab legs, as Jan and I shared a Captain's platter (shrimp, clams, crabs, and white fish) and Joe ordered about a trillion for himself. He had been keen to get crabs for a while at this point. We all enjoyed a beer and a natter as the sky grew dark; even the extremely attentive staff (let us eat already) were eager for chats with us. Who cares if they thought we were One Direction?

The night ended nicely; after what felt like an hour watching Joe scrape the last remnants of pink flesh from his mountain of armoured legs, we tossed our discarded food into the water below and watched the fish pounce on it like a pack of scaly wolves. Exhilarating stuff for throwing away shrimp shells and a lemon rind.

We made one final stop before bed, and picked up a T-shirt each at a discount store near the hotel. The stock was impressive: lots of hats, vests and T-shirts provided enough threads to kit out an army of spring-breakers, some of whom are evidently so vacant that they require instructions printed on their attire lest they lose sight of the task at hand.

Been there, didn't do that, nearly got the T-shirt...

Day 21 - Ra's Rays Know Little Mercy

On Monday morning, we woke up to a sunnier day than we were expecting. The light poured through our rectangular prison-like high window and we peaked out onto the roof to see the sun coming down on the pool to the left. We grabbed breakfast downstairs and then headed back upstairs to prepare for the beach. It was still quite overcast as we got to Neptune Beach, and the wind was up again as we banked left and headed down the sand. The hefty waves looked inviting, so after we lay our towels out, we went for a happy frolic.

The waves lived up to their billing - billowing towers of salty might, they mocked the fragility of our mortal frames with their swelling currents. Hiking through the water and ducking under the foam tired us out to no end, believe me! So we migrated back to the beach to soak up some rays. It was turning out to be a pretty beautiful day, to our genuine surprise. Weather forecasts, local residents all over Florida, and monstrous thunderstorms had convinced us we would be lucky to see the sun for an hour, let alone a morning. We realised something might need to be done lest we end up fried like crispy bacon. Jannick and I had both left our sun-cream at home, somehow thinking it a ridiculous notion to waste bag space with the stuff. Joe had brought his bottle so we gave our bodies a cursory lather, but by no means aiming for any comprehensive consistency.

We lay there for a while longer, popping back to the car for our lunch - leftover pizza reheated by the sun and an automobile oven. Jan and I went for a cool off at a local restaurant bar and enjoyed a raspberry ice tea, only noticing at this point (nearly 4pm) that we might have bitten off a little more ultraviolet than we could chew. Denial, as always, reared its head, as we sat there and told ourselves it was heat flush and that uncomfortable feeling was just sweat and sand. We picked up Joe, who was wilting in the heat, and headed back home for some damage assessment.

I'm not sure even Icarus got this burnt

The results were, suffice to say, catastrophic. Funny how five hours in the Florida sun will turn a person's skin to a charred crimson... The three of us had not experienced burns for years and so were naive enough to let our guards down, with unfortunate circumstances. The deceiving thing about sun burn is that it doesn't actually show up until hours after exposure, we were delighted to discover that evening, while liberally applying the after-sun in between weeps and winces. The pain was also starting to kick in too and my entirely pink torso began to sting with vengeful venom. That's what I get for taunting the sun with my hubris.

We hibernated at the motel for the rest of the afternoon and tried to remain as still as possible so as not to aggravate our stinging skin. After some time and a gallon of aloe vera later, we went out for dinner, making sure our solar adversary was well and truly on its way to bed. For dinner, we chose the restaurant that Jannick and I had called in on that afternoon. We all chose seafood; the boys had lobster and shrimp tacos and I had blacked mahi mahi, which was delicious and I enjoyed all to myself. Every last bite.

Beer to take away the pain

A quick trip and a drink at Pete's Bar, reportedly a favourite hang out of writer John Grisham, and we were ready to head home. We all went to bed much more respectful of the sun's awesome power than we were that morning. One last round of aloe vera and we all drifted off to sleep, ruing our idiocy in unified whimper.

Day 20 - Crashing the Coast

Leaving Tallahassee nonplussed by the weather forecast for the coming days, we tried to encourage ourselves with typical British optimism as we headed eastward to the Floridian coast. Having had a big lie-in to recover from our antler-ing at Bullwinkle's bar, we missed breakfast and brunched nearer to midday at local burger chain Whataburger. We soaked up the booze and refilled our gigantic styrofoam cups for the drive and promptly got on the road.

Whataname

Jan and I rotated the driver responsibilities and we arrived at Atlantic Beach in about three hours, having to negotiate a violent rain storm about halfway through. Rain had already become a regular guest in our early Florida adventures, as it seemed like practically every window we looked out from had adopted a moist grey hue. Nevertheless we doggedly strode on and rode Old Molasses through the highway rivers, and eventually arrived at our destination Atlantic Beach. The nearest big city to this beach town is Jacksonville, known to us for its NFL team, the Jacksonville Jaguars, and for generally being a city we've vaguely heard of. Fun fact from Joe, and confirmed by Wikipedia: Jacksonville is the largest city by area in the United States and the largest city in Florida by population.

Sure enough, it was cloudy when we rolled into town. We checked in and dumped our stuff before heading downtown for a a bite to eat. Opting for pizza, we went to Al's, a mere skip away from the sandy beach. The pizzas were gargantuan 14 inchers so we each ate around half before boxing them up and heading to the beach to get our first glimpse of the Atlantic since we arrived in Boston twenty days earlier.

Jan in his FSU gear, ready to get Hawaiian

Al's Pizzeria

The beach was windy, sandy, and particularly picturesque against the backdrop of a rosy setting sun. We planted our feet onto the hard sand and walked up into the wind as the waves lapped high up on the beach. The Atlantic waves were bigger than we were perhaps expecting, and might prove a test of quadracep fortitude the following morning.

After a brief stroll, we headed back to the hotel, praying for some sunshine in the morning. After a film double bill ("We're The Millers" and Miami-set "Pain and Gain"), we hit the hay and were delivered swiftly to the land of Nod.

Day 19 - Campus Tallahasseeus

For our first and only full day in Tallahassee, we decided to check out the biggest attraction in the area: the local college. Florida State University was founded in 1851 and was the first and is the largest state university in Florida. With a strong football program that has seen FSU win numerous championships in their local conference (of about 12 teams), the university boasts a huge stadium with 82,000 capacity that we were excited to get a look at. Walking into the campus from the northeast corner, we were initially struck by a sight none of us had witnessed before: flocks of girls made up in dresses and ball gowns walking up the hills into campus and milling around outside the halls. It was still mid-morning and we were looking for a place to eat breakfast/buy some FSU stash when we encountered these bizarre congregations.

It quickly dawned on us that these ladies were concentrated around the sorority houses, large residencies that betray their identities with Greek lettering above their front doors. After grabbing some Florida State shirts (Go Seminoles!), we headed over to the college’s union to grab a bite to eat. After passing only the second male in half an hour (a token security guard), we assumed we were in the something akin to the ‘female quadrant’ of the university, such was the volume of high-heel carrying sorority hopefuls in the area. The food court was closed for the morning, so we headed back out to Tennessee Street and into Donut Kingdom. While the guy at the counter struggled with Jannick’s pronunciation of the word ‘butter’, His Royal Highness the Donut King was in the back lazily throwing bagels in a bag, making the occasional appearance to chide his son’s ineptitude.

"Smile Joe..."

After some scoffing (a bite of one of Jan’s dozen donut holes and Joe had to get his own glazed cholesterol ring), we headed back into campus and set our sights on the Doak Campbell Stadium, a red brick fortress of formidable footballing pedigree. The front entrance was locked so we went round the side, taking a brief detour of the dwarfed baseball stadium next door (a pathetic 6,700 capacity), and managed to gain entry onto the magnificent lawn. The training facilities adjacent were also – if not more – impressive. Complete with an outdoor and an indoor training pitch, as well as the expected trappings of a rich football college, the facilities must have been some of the best for university level.

Joe takes down a member of the armless
legless red cushion gang

The indoor pitch

We ate lunch at a Japanese place not far from the hotel. Gigantic portions assured that we would not be hungry for at least another half an hour, when we would have smoothies and milkshakes back on campus. Teriyaki and hibachi meals provided us with mountains of meat and some much needed veggies. We cruised back home to pick up some wi-fi and suss out our afternoon plans. Creative juices surging, we decided to return to the college campus, in search of park greenery to have a throw around. Not until we got back in did we remember how oppressively hot it was, as the humidity and temperature cocktail conspired to limit our movements to a sluggish amble.

Instead, we opted for a refreshing beverage at the cool hang-out on that side of campus. The place was rammed with sorority wannabes who were easing their anxieties with ice-cream sundaes in what seemed like a ritual belt-loosening after their stressful interviews at the houses. We had our drinks outside and then went over to the park for a brief stint of people watching. Not staying long, we soon went back to the hotel to gear up for our first evening at a college bar.

Joe and I had time for a brief toning of the bibliopecks at the fitness suite while Jannick powdered his nose before we headed out for a late dinner. Our pizza plan was thrown instantly as we stepped inside Gumby’s Pizzeria to find it about 2 square metres in area and fairly steamy compared to the usual air-conditioning we had grown accustomed to. So to round off a day already peppered with spontaneity and originality, we plumped for two doors down and another pita at the Pitaria from the night before. Our reception was understandably less enthusiastic as it had been when we were the exotic strangers from last night, riding in and out of town on the wind in the blink of an eye. Now we were the unimaginative losers who had no other ideas for dinner other than what we’d put in our stomachs the night before. Jan and I even had the same order.

We took our uninspired selves back out onto the strip and over the road to Bullwinkle’s bar. This place we had noted had been voted the fourth best (later argued third best) college bar in the nation! It had not got going by the time we walked in at 9.45 but seemed a promising prospect with its $10 all you can drink policy. Beer pong tables had been set up and we were swiftly informed that there was a tournament going on and would we like to sign up? We very much would, thank you. So we put our names down, under the moniker of ‘Rule Britannia’, and waited for proceedings to get under way. Our opponents were a couple about our age, the male half of which instantly stopped us once he saw our team name. Turns out this guy Andy hailed from Manchester! We had located the only other Brit in Tallahassee. He had met his girlfriend Elissa whilst working at an American summer camp, and they had evidently formed a formidable beer pong partnership.

We were truly awful. As Joe watched from the sidelines with his head in his hands, our first round flew by in the blink of an eye. As it was best of three, we had a shot at a glorious comeback, but something told us it was not to be. After sinking a total of about 4 cups, our brief campaign came to a crushing end. Insult was added to injury as we had to drink the unpalatable Coor’s Lite that lay stagnant at the bottom of our embarrassed cups.

The rest of the night passed enjoyably, as we met some friends and cheered Andy and Elissa to the final (which they narrowly lost). We had some drinks and chats and a bit of a boogie before heading back to the hotel for our last sleep in Tallahassee. It had been a great couple of days, perhaps more fun than we had expected from a beachless Florida town.

Now to the coast - stay tuned!