Day 134: Goto FloraBama

When it is a tropical storm at the beach, what better place for a refuge than the infamous FloraBama lounge. We spent the afternoon people watching and by the end of the day my eyes and mind were overloaded. After what I saw on Sunday afternoon, I wondered what in the world was the place like the night before.
 I have FloraBama memories from every stage of my life: including preschool. When it was just a one room bar, I played on the beach while my parents sat inside. I would check in occasionally for snacks. As a teenager, I didnt remain outside and thanks to ODoul bottles that could be refilled, I escaped the watchful eyes of security. Much older, we would take the boat there from my parents house on the river. This was a day long adventure. Earlier this year,  we went there for the polar bear dip. We were seconds late fortunately, but we all vowed to try again this New Years.
The FloraBama is a squalid, overcrowded, loud, play pen for adults. It is where you watch a barefooted, shirtless  man dance/sway slowly on the dirt floor holding tightly a much larger and much meaner woman- even after the band stopped playing. It is where the bartender escorts the totally blind man to his seat underneath a string of bras and then brings him a pitcher of beer and a set of scratch off lottery tickets. It is where men with black eyes and HArley shirts sit next to sorority girls from Auburn clapping to David Allan Coe. The FloraBama is a place untouched by time, progress, hurricanes, or etiquette even after four decades.