Wasting Away in Maro Island-Day 2

We slept in late in an effort to avoid a hangover. That, and we were awake for about 20 hours the previous day. We staggered out of bed around 10am and checked if the F’s were up. We headed up get breakfast (or brunch or lunch, depending on your point of view) and Mr. F made approximately enough food for 83 people. We ate while watching the Hawks flounder through an uninspired half of football against the Badgers. At halftime I started drinking, at which time the Hawks started waking up. I don’t mess with karma, so I started picking up the pace of my drinking. By the time the Hawks sealed a 20-10 victory I had a pretty nice buzz going.

The ladies had gone out for pedicures at halftime in the hopes of avoiding my crappy mood if the Hawks lost. After they returned we decided we needed to start drinking in earnest. We went to a bar called Dolphin Tiki first. It was a small local dive on the water. I didn’t realize any bar still had functioning rear projection TV’s before going there. We ordered some bar food and the wife proceeded to make a run at the world record for vodka and pineapple juice consumption. Since the bar was literally a hut on the boardwalk, the restrooms were about 50 yards away in a building. After a few beers I had to break the seal and I wondered over. The restroom was dark and there was no light switch to be found. I had to settle for leaving the door partially open so I wouldn’t piss all over myself or the floor. After I had relieved myself, I did a more thorough investigation on the lighting situation. I discovered the “light switch” was actually one of those cheap timers hotels use to make sure you don’t leave the hot tub on forever.
We left Dolphin Tiki before the wife could pass out. Our next stop was the Sand Bar. It also had a local, laid back feel. The three of us set out to catch up to the wife, while she slowed down and attempted to meet us somewhere in the middle. We had planned to stay for only a couple hours, but they had a band start around 9pm. I’m normally not a fan of bands as they tend to suck, as least that’s the case where I come from. The band was Silent Fury and they were really good. And that’s not just the beer talking. They played a lot of hard rock and metal like 311, Black Sabbath, Metallica and a lot of other current stuff that I can’t recall. One of the highlights for me was “Sweet Home Alabama” because the lead singer had his father (who’s also a musician) come up to sing lead vocals while the lead singer took over at bass. It fricking rocked. So if Silent Fury is ever in your neighborhood, check them out. They’re out of Syracuse and their website is silentfury.net. And no, they didn’t pay me to say that.
It was about 1:30 when we finally staggered out of the bar. The wife was the only person capable of driving so Mr. F relinquished the keys. I got in the front seat, the F’s slid into the back. That’s when Mr. F started using a lot of F words. Apparently Mrs. F had left a drink in the cup holder and he spilled it on himself. He pissed and moaned about having wet shorts, then a projectile flew over my shoulder and hit the windshield. It was his shorts. He rode the rest of the way to the resort sans shorts. We got there and he still didn’t want to put them on, so he carried them all the way to his room. And yes, there are pictures.
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Wasting away in Marco Island-Day 1

Just got back from Marco Island, still going through detox.

We left last Friday morning with Mr and Mrs. Fancypants (same couple as our last Vegas trip). The great thing about Iowa airports is you can get almost anywhere you want at anytime you want, as long as you like layovers and traveling at odd hours. Our flight left at 6AM from an airport an hour's drive away. The only people awake when we got up were meth addicts and hunters. And possibly meth-addicted hunters.

The flight was uneventful, except we had to haul ass to make our connection in Atlanta. We arrived at Fort Meyers Airport around noon and went to pick up the rental. Mr. and Mrs. F had there first minor disagreement of the trip about which SUV to pick. On the way to Marco, they got in their second argument about our room. The wife and I tried to make light of it, saying we'd stay in a dumpster or broom closet if necessary. Apparently we weren't guaranteed to have an gulf view and this pissed off Mr. F. It was becoming fairly obvious that we were overdue for a drink.
We grabbed lunch at the Snook Inn, home of the World Famous Salad Bar. What's world famous about it, you ask? Absolutely nothing. They did have a huge barrel of pickles which probably contained an excess of fecal matter. Maybe that's all it takes to be famous in Marco Island. I passed on the pickles and had a grouper sandwich. It was really good, but maybe I just think that because I was starving. Far all I know it was dropped in the pickle poop.
We reached our resort (after a stop to pick up some alcohol) and luckily we were both in gulf view rooms. We were 3 floors apart, but there were no scenes at the front desk. We made our way down to the pool and set up to soak in some rays. I'm not a big "soak up the rays" kind of guy, but I made a concerted effort to just relax and enjoy the weather. We stayed at the pool for a few hours before heading out for dinner.
We we to an Italian restaurant called Casa Mia, which means "whale's vagina." The food was great, I had a shrimp stuffed with crab meat over linguini. Unfortunately there was some live entertainment. A tone-deaf woman was signing karaoke to a bunch of songs from the '50s. It was like listening to an alley cat getting sodomized by a mountain goat. The best was she came over to our table and asked us how we liked the music. I came really close to telling her what I thought, but Mrs. F bailed me out and said it was good and she like the Shania Twain song. I'm not entirely sure she even did a Shania Twain song, but it got her away from our table before I could make an ass of myself. We stopped by the grocery store to pick up some breakfast food and some more alcohol before heading back to the hotel for several nightcaps.
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