As some of you know, last summer I went to Florida to drop off my friend's brother at college in Miami. There, I picked up a book about the TV show "Coach" and it led to a story here. Recently, I went back, thanks to a friend's family timeshare in Orlando. Unfortunately, there were no Coach books or stores that sold Coach books. I know, so why even go, you may ask? Thankfully, there were some good photo ops, and here they are.
Before I begin, here is a professional title graphic:
Pretty nice, huh? It took a long time to complete.
We drove down there in one full driving session, only making stops for bathroom and food. At the one stop, in some state I can't recall, we drove by a grocery store called Mor For Less. That's a funny name. Here is what that place looked like:
That name is trademarked, so don't even think about using it for your business. It's a pretty boring store, but they did have a Faygo machine out front. See?
For those who don't know, Faygo makes excellent (read: terrible) soda pop in colossally exotic flavors like Diet Chocolate Cream. It's genuine, so you know it's good. Here:
That's good stuff. The bottle was empty, because we drank it. Oops. Amazingly, there's something more repulsive than chocolate cream soda. Wanna guess what? If you said "a West Virginian strip club," you're right! Yes, right off of the turnpike is a little place called Southern XXXposure, which offers the finest topless dancers West Virginia has to offer. Think about that one for a minute. To answer the question I know you're thinking; no, we didn't stop in for a lapdance. Since we were driving around 75 mph past it, the best photo I could get was one of the trillion billboards on the WV turnpike. See?
Not very good, huh? Enough of the ride to Florida. Let's jump to actually being there.
I'm sure you've seen Florida on a map. It's quite boring, actually. It doesn't have the rectangular appeal of Wyoming or the sheer size of Texas. I remedied this problem by coloring it in pink and adding a racing stripe and several polka dots. I think it's an improvement. Take a look for yourself:
So now we're in Florida. Things sure are different here. Just look at that freaky fire hydrant!
It's like I'm in China or on the moon or something.
I think the craziness was affecting the gas meter of our vehicle, as apparently, we had a full tank of gas, and then a spare three-quarters of a tank. I'm no mechanic, but I think the problem is somewhere in the hydraulic exhaust transmission gauge.
That was a picture of Dolly Parton's Dixie Stampede dinner-show. We didn't go, for some reason. Either it wasn't open or it was too expensive. I don't remember. Here is another picture of a place we didn't visit:
We didn't eat here, as we value our lives. I'm pretty sure we had Sizzlers in Buffalo many years ago, and they all closed due to failed cleanliness inspections. Or maybe not. Come on, I would have been five at the time. Are you going to trust what a five-year-old has to say? I didn't think so.
In Florida, the highway system is easy to navigate and is well-labeled
In Florida, they sell gummi hamburgers.
In Florida, they also sell license plates with names on them.
In the heart of Orlando, there was this incredibly yuppie mall that only had stores that sold clothing for over $100/square inch of fabric. Why the hell anyone would shop here is beyond me. All the clerks looked exactly the same in each and every store; clad in full black, right down to the socks, shoes, and boxers (I checked). Most of the stores had retarded names like…
What? That's not even a word, and it's certainly not a name. I hope. They also had a confusing amount of stores that only catered to one very specific type of person. For example…
Apparently, you shop there if you want to wear Asian-styled garments and you happen to be pregnant, but only on the weekend. I don't want to get into the gory details on what happens if the fashion police catches you wearing items from Japanese Weekend Maternity on a Tuesday. This mall also featured stores that sold nude statues. Thus, this ended up being my favorite store.
Oh yah. That's hot.
The food in Orlando generally sucked. One of the few good dining experience I had, aside from the tried and true fast food joints, was at this one Thai place. No, there's no pictures of that, but I do have pics of the door of the Domino's Pizza that was next door. Why pictures of this? See for yourself.
"Locked?" What the hell is that supposed to mean? And why is it in quotes? Did some guy say that sometime long ago? Is that supposed to be a reminder to the closing manager to lock the doors? Wouldn't he know that anyways? What kind of a manager leaves the store at night and doesn't lock up? Why is this message on the door, of all places? That's not all, either.
In case you can't read the red sign, it says, "Hustle on your feet, not on the street." Again, this seems like a really lame reminder to the delivery guys. Why can't they hustle on the street? Are they supposed to hustle on people's lawns? Is it even possible to hustle without using your feet? The other sign makes an equal amount of sense (none). Make That Drop! Goddammit! Make It Now! Hurry! That Drop Isn't Going To Make Itself, You Know!
In a completely confused state of mind, we left Florida, never to return.
Well, not really, but I've run out of good pictures. Other stuff happened, but nothing worth posting on the internet, such as a dodo bird sighting, the Epcot Center completely engulfed in flames, and Chip being eaten alive by a great white (shark, you ass, not the band). Wait, I found one more. We saw this on the door next to the bathroom in a Virginian gas station.