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Another Reason Why I Don't Do Tampa

My brother Phil called me a few weeks ago and wanted to know if we could get together somewhere.  He was going to be down in the Orlando-Lakeland-Tampa area for business and had a morning or evening to meet.

We originally decided to do a breakfast around the airport on Thursday morning and he could then catch his flight at noon back to the icy regions of the North.  I told Kenzie I couldn't babysit and checked out routes to the airport.  I'd take my bike early before rush hour and while not an easy trip by any means, certainly one I could handle at 5:00 or 6:00 in the morning without much traffic.  Everyone else had school or work so it would just be me.

An then the call.  It was Phil explaining that due to a maintenance issue with his plane, he would have to take a 7:30 am flight out instead of noon.  Well, there goes breakfast and a solo trip.  We decided to do the evening before the flight and so I called Brendan and asked if he wanted to go over with me.  He asked his roomie Robert if he wanted to go and he offered to drive.  All I would have to do is sit, relax and look pretty and they would take care of the driving.  Sounded great to me.

Brendan and Robert arrived on time at Shawshank and into the back seat of Robert's little Focus I gladly hopped.  Now off to Tampa.  We commented on the way across the Howard Franklin bridge how awful it must be to be the guys heading the other direction because it looked like bumper to bumper rush hour traffic.  Poor souls.  But we spoke too soon.  On toward Tampa we ended up in virtually the same pickle.  Never mind Brendan almost rammed a guy in the rear-end at one point, and then someone tried to side-swipe us when they turned into our lane.  OK, two near misses.  This is getting scary.  


Robert and Brendan at the Copa.  The picture is blurry due to quivering hands.


We get on some tollway and head up off the interstate and it is still crowded.  We finally get to the Hampton Inn and Phil is in the lobby waiting.  Introductions to Robert are made, and we pile back in the Focus for a bite to eat and a beer somewhere.  This is 4 miles from the airport, how hard it can be to find a Hooter's or similar place on a crowded-ass street?  Brendan gets back behind the wheel and off we go down West Waters Street.  The name is forever emblazoned on my mind.  Up we go, through block after block and we can't find a thing.  Finally Brendan pulls a U-y and heads into a place called the Copa.  In his defense the sign did say "Bar and Grille".  But, yeah, it wasn't exactly what we were looking for.  What it looked like was a place wise guys hang out waiting for their next job.  Like the bar Tony Soprano had without the pole and the people.  We were the only ones after a couple other guys left.  It didn't look, well, safe.      





After a quick beer at the Copa we got back in the car in search of respectability.  Robert is behind the wheel now and, oddly, we had to make a couple of u-turns and he accelerates through them.  JJJeeeeeeeeeesssssuuuuuusssssss  CCCCChhhhhrrrrriiiiisssssttttttt!!!!!!!  He actually floors the damn thing and tries to get a fishtail kind of result and why the car didn't roll is beyond me.  It's like riding the Octopus at the mercer County fair, only with more centrifugal force.   If I may be so bold as to say it was fucking strange and I can't explain why he would do it.  While checking for anal leakage I kept thinking the car is going to roll and we're dead people, and I can only imagine what Phil must have thought.  To his credit he remained silent and allowed me to make a remark or two.  

We stopped at a Grande Pollo place whose menu was frighteningly complex and didn't serve alcohol so we left it, too.  I needed alcohol, in fact I insisted on it. The night is starting to unravel.  We walk outside and Robert calls home in Connecticut and escapes, Phil is making a business call, Brendan is on his phone looking for a place to go and I'm wishing I was back at Shawshank.  Brendan says he has isolated two spots, a Green Iguana bar and grille and a Logan's Roadhouse down on Anderson Street.   But for some reason no one, except Robert wants to get in the car.



The Green Iguana wins out and to make sure customers have proof they are in the right place, they have a giant iguana, green of course, on the ceiling.  Decent food and it was kind of funny.  After all the driving, and strange U-Turns by Robert in the Focus, no one had a taste for beer anymore.  I think Brendan had one, but the rest of us all had tea or Coke.  I guess I didn't want the coroner to think I was a lush.


Phil seems to be relaxing some and tells us a story of his bull-riding days.  As usual he tells a great yarn, funny and captivating.  Phil has been selling and dealing with people forever and he knows how to not only sell but to make people laugh and feel comfortable.  

It wasn't the smoothest trip in the world, but it was an adventure and although I would have preferred more time gabbing someplace instead of searching around for a place to sit and gab it turned out fine.  It was great to see Phil.  Looking back there is no way I could have done it on the bike.  Too crowded, too dark, too unfamiliar.  Sure glad Brendan volunteered and I'm still shaking my head wondering what in the Hell all that was with Robert and the U-Turns.    


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