Lessons Learned From Florida #2

Authentic [aw-then-tik] –adjective
1. not false or copied; genuine; real
2. having the origin supported by unquestionable evidence; authenticated; verified

Lisa’s main objective during our vacation was to experience something authentic. She wasn’t too concerned with the details pertaining to what we did exactly or what we ate, but she was determined to stay in an authentic cottage on the beach. In our haste to get out of the airport and to catch the last bus before dark, I rushed to secure a room at the Hampton Inn. (I needed that “cloud nine” bed experience after a long day of travel.) I had tried a number of cottages and bungalows on Sanibel Island, but they were all booked and thus, for two nights out of six, I actually got some sleep.  "Only two?" You question. "Oh yes." I say. The Hampton Inn was in Fort Myers and nowhere near the beach. And since our dream of staying in a little, authentic cottage in the sand did not go away we did some digging and finally found a place that fit the description.
The Anchor Inn was old, and so was the mildew. By the smell of things, it must have been flooded numerous times. When we pulled down the comforter to get into bed that first night, we nearly puked. The stench was awful! I quickly insisted that I would be sleeping on the couch and would allow Lisa the entire bed to herself. (Nice friend aren’t I?) Don’t worry I got mine……Because of the unfortunate state of the bed, I wasn’t about to pull out the sofa bed. Instead I decided to sleep sitting up on the couch. It was nice and toasty warm when I finally fell asleep, but it quickly turned chilly. In the dark, I made my way to the closet and felt around for something to keep me warm. The closet was empty except for one blanket on the bottom shelf. I was feeling pretty lucky as I returned to the couch to wrap up. Sadly, that feeling didn’t last. Each time I tried to pull the blanket around me I felt a sharp poke. I tried to figure it out and get to it, but couldn’t find the source of the trouble. After wrestling all night to stay warm, yet not get jabbed, morning finally came. Let me interrupt this story to say that “Paybacks bite!” In the light of dawn, I could see that the blanket was covered, not only in cockleburs but long, black dog hair as well. My eyes were swollen and goopy; my tongue felt as if it was five times larger than normal and I swear that dog hair was lining my throat! What’s more authentic than an unquestionable, verified, and oh so very real allergic reaction?

The Anchor Inn

Lesson learned: Never cheat a friend!