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.