Wait.
That’s a terrible palindrome.
As in it is NOT a palindrome.
That’s okay. Because this trip is kinda NOT what I should be doing either.
I’m really trying to thread a needle here. It was a six hour drive from my house to the race. I’m staying in a hotel along the beach, off season, with most things shut down or undergoing renovations for the re-opening, post-pandemic (ha! Dream on, beachcombers… dream on). I need to run the race tomorrow, drive home, grab a few hours sleep before boarding a 6:20 AM flight to the West Coast. I’ll lose an hour driving from the panhandle to the peninsula of Florida… then gain three hours jetting to the left coast. But that just means I have no idea what time it is.
The next two weekends are races that I had “deferred” from 2020 due to the pandemic. And honestly, maybe they should be deferred once again. This omicron variant and the ongoing politicization of viable preventative measures is no joke… except possibly here in Panama City Beach.
No one is wearing a mask here.
Outside, with signs asking folks to keep 6 feet of distance, I could *almost* excuse it. But nobody is masked indoors. Not the hostess at Dave and Barry’s, site of the pre-race expo. Not any of the volunteers working the packet pickup. I wore mine. And I will continue to do so because, again, it’s an ounce of prevention for a life-threatening virus. Doesn’t seem too hard of a choice to make. It’s annoying to wear a mask, yes, I know. I get it. Every breath I take, every move I make, I seem to fog up my glasses or sunglasses. But it’s just what we have to do to protect ourselves, our loved ones, and yes, strangers. An act of kindness and part and parcel of a social contract. This is NOT political, people. It’s just common courtesy and common sense.
But this is a place where Spring Break apparently visited as a teenager, found itself a bloated middle aged sell-out who thought it could recapture the “spirit” of Spring Break by an overtly sanitized yet somehow even creepier shellacking of the buildings with “flare” and “family friendly” icons. It all feels unhip, uninviting, and maybe it’s the off season vibe, but incredibly desperate.
The beach however is nice. Some good sun shots. Albeit, they wanted to charge me $7 to walk down their pier. SEVEN DOLLARS! Maybe that’s the spirit of Spring Break… the exploitation of the naïve/foolish/devil-may-care-I’m-invincible-and-an-oh-so-entitled-college-kid so $7 is just fine.
On the plus side, Santa has his board. Hang loose, St. Nick. Hang loose.
***
I sat down to figure out what all I needed to prep for tomorrow’s run. The route is a weird out and back… or at least an out… wander about in some freakish approximation of multiple dead ends and turnabouts and THEN head back.
As I was sitting there, the 40-something Wyndham Time Share salesperson was closing a “just hear them out and we’ll give you $50!” pitch to a couple. And once he finished with them, he turned to his comely coed assistant and crowed how easy it was to sell people on it all. He saw me and I guess wanted to show off for her. He was wrong on multiple fronts. In chronological order:
- He thought I would be interested in a timeshare in Panama Beach City.
- He saw I was drinking Diet Coke and the FIRST thing he said to me was, “Hey, man… you know how bad those Diet sodas are for you?” I sighed heavily and said, “yes, yes… I’m aware. Thanks.”
- He then chose to double down, saying, “no, all these studies prove how bad it is for you. I’m just telling you the facts, man.” I bit my tongue and simply nodded and said again, “yeah, so I’ve heard.”
- He then TRIPLE downs, realizing that he may have blown his potential sale by insulting the mark right out of the gate, implying his customer, e.g. ME, was stupid for drinking Diet Coke. Thus, he pivots to a sad tale of how his grandmother died from diet soda. I merely shook my head and offered my apologies, gathering up my bag of race swag and rising from my chair.
- He then tries one last tact, asking what I am in town for… to which I said I was running the marathon. He asked if I was in shape to run the whole way or if I needed to walk or how it worked. I told him I thought I could finish. He asked if I had ever run that far before. I again bit my tongue and opted to just go with, “yeah… last Sunday I ran one in 3:23. Have a good night, sir.” He wanted to fist bump me which I begrudgingly did.
- Did I mention he wasn’t wearing a mask? And that he was a timeshare salesman?
Anyhoo, opting out of the shenanigans of the beach area, I headed off to grab some food and retreat into my own personal covid-free (fingers crossed) bubble at my 1.5 star hotel. The view is spectacular…
…yet I am confident there has been at least one murder in this elevator.
I’m taking the stairs tomorrow.