North Florida

It's Sunday afternoon and I'm standing in a stranger's backyard in Gulf Breeze, Florida. The owner of the house is trying to yank a rubber chicken from the mouth of a shitzhu. A peacock is on the roof of a toolshed flashing his feathers. A fainting goat (youtube that) is nudging my leg. How in the hell... did I wind up here? 

Well, dad and I are on a little trip down memory lane. He grew up in Gulf Breeze in the 1950's and hasn't been back since. Earlier, we mapped his old address and here we are, taking pictures of the tree he used to climb as a kid. We drive around Gulf Breeze and see where he used to go to church, elementary school, little league practice. It's a touching afternoon for father and son, one we'll long remember. 

And the goat, who could forget the goat?

Later, Bo meets me at a dive bar in Pensacola Beach and we get to talking. He and I each grew up in Arizona, attended college in Virginia, then moved to Southern California, so we share a few sensibilities. However, at 25, we find ourselves on two very different paths. Me going to grad school and pursuing a career in business, and him in the thick of Naval training and headed toward a career in aviation. 

But we're both learning, and growing up a little, and pursuing something that is challenging, exciting, and important to us. Knowing the difficulty, we congratulate one another for discovering what that is. Bo does a good job describing the military model and mindset; talking to him teaches me a lot. I share a few thoughts about my travels and plans after. We part ways, glad for the paths we've chosen, and glad for friends who have 

chosen different ones.

Lunch in Tallahassee is a cultural experience. Around noon on a monday, we stumble into the Creole Cafe on College Ave. The walls are covered in Nascar memorobelia. Competitive fishing is on the television, and people seem to be watching it, glued to it. Dad orders a fried grouper po boy, I go for the gumbo. Students in frat gear shuffle in and out. Was I that unkempt in college? God I hope not. Dad wants to ask them what's wrong with FSU football, but I dissuade him. We slow cruise through Tallahassee, and the place is impressive. Bricks, columns, tree-lined streets, parks named after generals, monuments. But after an hour, we've seen most of it, and get back on the 10 East. Three hours later, Jacksonville. 

Seven days and 2,600 miles gone by, and there's the Atlantic...