Day 72 - The Fort Myers Freak Show

Author – Grant
From – Orlando, Florida
To – Fort Myers, Florida
Miles Driven – 205

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157612658808852/

My My. What to say about Day 72? It all started normally enough with a sedate car journey from the east coast of Florida to the west coast, leaving behind the surreal Orlando area where even the electricity power lines are Mickey shaped. The destination was Fort Myers where honourable Brit Chris has set up tent after leaving New York a while back. To be fair, I only met Chris a couple of times when he was in New York but any tentative link is enough to have us turn up on their doorstep so let that be a warning to any of you who have, out of politeness, invited us to call in on you when we’re passing through…WE WILL. Anyway, fellow Brit and Thursday Club co-founder Teddy was visiting Chris for a week long drinkathon which sounded like the perfect storm for an impromptu large night out. And so it was.

But I have to prepare for a big night out these days as I’m not the beer-to-urine processing machine I once was. Step 1 – drink enough water to drown a cat in. Check. Step 2 – Line the stomach. Our hotel was blessed with having Mel’s Diner in the parking lot. God clearly wanted me to have a foot-long hot dog topped with chilli, cheese and onions and I, as his loyal servant, obliged. Check. Step 3 – Have an invigorating shower and splash on some pure lady magnetism (Brut). Check. Aaaaaaand…showtime.
Chris came to pick us up in his stunning, yet package-compensating Maserati which was clearly the first time a car of such ilk has been on the forecourt of any of America’s La Quinta budget hotel chain. His house is equally impressive with it’s own pool…but we’ll come back to that later as you’ll not be surprised to hear that it features heavily after a night of heavy drinking.

Dinner was at H2 Tapas & Wine Bar and what fine fare it turned out to be. I think the four of us managed to get through twelve plates by the end of the meal, of which a good eight were home runs. Especially noteworthy were the delicate lobster ravioli and the creamy/dreamy pan-fried foie gras with a berry and pistachio sauce…all washed down with some sizeable refreshing margaritas. And then it all got a bit weird. Bar one was having an eighties night which is always good for a giggle but we became a little self-conscious after thirty minutes of staring at spandex. And so on to bar two which was a laser-filled, hip-hop (I think that’s what the kids call it) joint where the clientele had suspiciously star shaped pupils. We left after the obligatory single drink because the informal drunk girl show had finished. The finale was a spectacular dance floor rugby tackle resulting in the two of them being escorted out without even having time to pick up their dignity from the cloak room. Bar three was the best of the bunch with a decent band pumping our various anthems which provided a good backdrop for the vast amount alcohol we were putting down our throats. It gets a bit blurry from here onwards but we headed back to Chris’ palace for a truly hilarious session of Rock Band (Teddy’s insistence that the drums experience wasn’t realistic was followed by him berating us for never having played in a real band…I thought it best not to bring up my high-school UB40 tribute band that practised plenty but never actually performed to a crowd) whilst Kate wisely slept through the 100 decibel noise. There was skinny dipping. There was bleeding and a suspected broken arm. And then somehow it was 6am. Thanks to Chris for his hospitality and thanks to Teddy for his abuse.

Clearly tomorrow is going to be dominated by recovery…