Tarpon Springs

Tarpon Springs is a city on the Gulf Coast of Florida, known for its sponges. Greek sponge divers started arriving in Tarpon Springs in the early 1900s, but In 1947, the sponge fields were wiped out by a red tide algae bloom. The Florida sponge industry rebounded in the '80s when a disease hit Mediterranean sponge fields, increasing the demand for Florida sponges and there's still a small, active sponge industry in Tarpon Springs.

Tarpon Springs, population of around 20,000, has the highest concentration of Greek Americans of any city in the country. The town seems built for tourists, and it's made up mostly of restaurants, bakeries and souvenir shops. The two largest shops are The Sponge Factory and Spongeorama, the latter of which dubiously claims to have the world's largest collection of sponges. 

Both shops show a different short, educational sponge diving movie and we watched both—never turn down a free movie about the history of sponges. The Sponge Factory has a better selection of sponges overall, but Spongeorama's vintage movie is definitely better. Both movies contain "secret" discount codes, although I don't know if it was worth saving 10% on the $4 finger sponge that I bought to suffer the indignity of awkwardly telling the clerk that I was a "sponge expert."

The harvesting of sponges is actually pretty brutal to watch—they hack them free from the sea floor with a giant hook—but the leftover fragments can regenerate. It's hard to reconcile the fact that the squishy, porous sponge was once a living creature, but what you think of as a natural sea sponge is in fact just a soft, fibrous skeleton. Over-fishing almost brought the animal to extinction in the mid 1900s, but today a lot of the sponge-like products are made synthetically. 

The variety of sponges on display in Tarpon Springs is amazing. They come in all shapes, sizes, colors and density and have been used by humans for centuries. Some sponges even have medicinal purposes and have anti-cancer, anti-bacterial and anti-fungal properties. I love places like this that are built around hyper-specific themes, like Sleepy Hollow or Roswell, Sponges are everywhere you look—on boats and buildings and bikes—and I almost started to believe that I was a sponge expert after spending just a few hours in Tarpon Springs. 

Weeki Wachee Springs

The one attraction that I was most excited to see on our recent Florida trip was Weeki Wachee Springs. Open since 1947, Weeki Wachee is home of the famous live mermaid show. The Weeki Wachee spring is the deepest naturally-formed spring in the U.S. and the surrounding land is a Florida State Park. Guests watch the mermaid shows from 16 feet below the surface, inside of a 400-seat theater embedded in the side of the spring.

The mermaid show was dreamed up by former Navy man Newton Perry, who also invented the free-flowing air hose breathing apparatus that the mermaids still use today (it resembles a hookah). The mermaids are trained to eat, drink and do underwater ballet routines—three times a day, 365 days a year.

The mermaid show was just as cheesy as I wanted it to be, and deceptively simple—tryouts for new mermaids include a 120-foot dive into the spring, a 300-yard timed swim and a 10-minute water-treading exercise. The show ended with a performance of "Proud to be an American," lest you forget that this is old Florida. According to the 2016 census, the town of Weeki Wachee has just 13 residents and the mayor is a former mermaid. 

In the early days of the attraction, mermaids would stand by the side of the road in their bathing costumes and wave motorists into the park. In the '50s and '60s, the mermaids were visited by Elvis, Don Knotts and Esther Williams, and performed eight shows a day to sold out crowds. Weeki Wachee is definitely past its heyday, but $13 not only buys you admission to the mermaid shows, but also to a wildlife show (featuring a three-legged tortoise named Tripod) and a river boat cruise. 

I almost died with delight when we entered the park and I spotted a Mold-a-Matic machine—and then I almost died of sadness when I noticed the "out of order" sign. Later, we came upon yet another Mold-a-Matic machine ... and it was also broken. I first discovered these vintage souvenir machines in Florida last year and they're quite rare—I was heartbroken to be so close, yet so far from adding two new figures to my collection. David encouraged me to inquire at the gift shop if they had any pre-made figures and as luck would have it they did, sort of. One was broken in half and the other was beheaded, but David and his dad glued one together and I decided to leave the head separated from the second—my weird Florida version of the Headless (sea)Horse(wo)man. 

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Weeki Wachee Springs State Park
6131 Commercial Way
Spring Hill, FL 34606, United States

Located just down the road from the Spring Hill dinosaurs.
 

UniRoyal Gal: Tootsie 2018

I was delighted when I first discovered that there was a UniRoyal Gal about fifteen minutes from David's parents house in Bradenton, Florida. Tootsie was one of our first stops on our trip to Florida last year, where we found her easily accessible but in desperate need of a new paint job. Through a bit of Instagram fate, I recently saw a photo of Tootsie, fresh from a patriotic makeover. Luckily, we had already planned a return trip to Florida, and of course couldn't resist revisiting the brand new Tootsie.

Tootsie, a 17-feet-tall, 300-pound fiberglass UniRoyal Gal was originally displayed in Illinois. She was brought to Florida upon her owner's retirement and Tom Edmunds, of Edmunds Metal Works bought her for $500. She's been standing outside of his shop in Bradenton since 2013. When we visited her last year, she wore a faded, yellow bikini with black polka dots still visible on her backside. She had matching yellow heels, a faded blonde bob and stood on a plain metal base.

As you can see from the photos, Tootsie's makeover was dramatic. She's been repainted head to toe—stars and stripes on her bikini, a new black dye job and black heels to match. She even has a new anklet, with charms representing the different branches of the military. In fact, the new Tootsie is very overtly patriotic, and while there's nothing wrong with loving America and supporting our troops, the "Patriotism Means Standing Up For Being an American" sign feels a little too "Make America Great Again" for my tastes.

Of course I'm happy that Tootsie is being maintained and loved, but I do miss her original yellow polka dot bikini. I'm so glad that we got to see Tootsie last year in her original state, and then again so soon looking totally different. UniRoyal Gals are very rare, and with Tootsie I feel like we got a two-for-one deal.

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Want prints of Tootsie or any of my other photos? Check out my Society6 shop and if you ever want a specific print of a photo you see on this blog, just let me know!

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Edmund's Metal Works
6111 15th St E,
Bradenton, FL 34203
Easily accessible

Spring Hill Dinosaurs

If you know anything about me, it shouldn't come as a surprise if we're ever driving somewhere and I gently suggest that I'd like to make a few quick stops along the way. While out for the day with David's parents on our recent trip to Florida, I told them that there were two dinosaurs on our route—actually directly on the way, which is sometimes a distinction I make rather loosely—and luckily they were more than happy to indulge my love of roadside novelties (thank you again, Jo Ann and Ken!). 

The first is actually a dinosaur-shaped building, and while we were lucky enough to be driving right past it, I would have made a special trip eventually just to see it because as I've said before, my love of novelty architecture knows no bounds. Harold's Auto Center, located on Commercial Way in Spring Hill, Florida, was built in 1964 as a Sinclair Oil gas station. Inspired by Sinclair's apatosaurus logo, the dinosaur-shaped structure is 47 feet tall and 110 feet long.

The dinosaur has been home to Harold's Auto Center, a family-owned auto maintenance shop, since 1977. Their website insists that "although we are inside a Dinosaur we stay up to date with what your vehicle needs." I do wish that—like the logo—the dinosaur was painted green, but I love his pimento-filled green olive eyes. I don't miss dealing with car maintenance, but if I did have a car, taking it to a shop shaped like a dinosaur would almost make the experience enjoyable.

A little more than three miles down Commercial Way is a second, smaller dinosaur measuring 22 feet high and 58 feet long. Known simply as the Spring Hill Dinosaur, this one isn't quite identifiable as a single species, but he is much more colorful than his neighbor down the road.

This roadside dinosaur was built in 1962 by taxidermist Jacob Foxbower to promote his family's wildlife museum, once located nearby. The museum closed in 1998, but the dinosaur remains, and this beloved local landmark looks as if it's just been refreshed with a new coat of Pepto-Bismol pink paint. 

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Harold's Auto Center
5299 Commercial Way
Spring Hill, FL 34606

Spring Hill Dinosaur
US-19 (3.3 miles south of Harold's on the west side of the street)
Spring Hill, FL 34606

Manatee Burying Ground

Despite its name, the Manatee Burying Ground in Bradenton, Florida is, unfortunately, not a place to bury actual manatees. But it is one of the oldest organized burying grounds on the Gulf Coast of Florida, and it's located just a few minutes from where we were staying (David's parents' house) on our recent trip. Deeded in 1850, the property is owned by the city of Bradenton (located in Manatee County) and since 1849, only immediate family members of those already buried in the cemetery can be interred here. 

We drove past this cemetery and lured by its intriguing arched metal entrance gate, I gently suggested that we turn around and check it out. It's surrounded by a fence and the main gate was locked. Just as we were considering a little bit of light trespassing / fence-hopping, we noticed that a side gate that had appeared locked was actually open. Unsurprisingly, due to its strict familial restrictions, the cemetery only contains 94 identifiable graves. The last interment was in 1967, a granddaughter of the cemetery founders, Josiah and Mary Gates. 

Notable interments here include 11 Confederate soldiers, three Union Army veterans, a private who served in the Seminole War and three members of the Florida Succession Convention. During weekends in October, the cemetery hosts an event called "Spirit Voices from Old Manatee," a torchlight tour with actors portraying some of Manatee's permanent residents. 

Although I know geographically it is, I don't really think of Florida as the "South"—but this small cemetery reminded me a lot of other cemeteries I've explored in Savannah, Charleston and New Orleans. The Spanish moss was draped over stones and gates like someone was dressing a set for "haunted southern cemetery." The Manatee Burying Ground was a lovely accidental discovery and the perfect cemetery to explore—small enough to not be overwhelming, but with a diverse and historic collection of old tombstones and monuments.

"How strange it seems / with so much gone of life and love / to still live on."

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The Manatee Burying Ground
15th St And 6th Ave E
Bradenton, FL 34205

Visit Manatee Village Historical Park to borrow the key to the cemetery between 9 a.m.-4 p.m. Monday through Friday, and the second and fourth Saturdays of each month (or just check to see if the side gate is open, like we did).

Florida

I'm pretty much constantly thinking about possible road trips. Sometimes this seems at odds with my personality—a homebody at heart who doesn't like change, craves routine and gets dreadfully car sick—but there is just so much to see in this country and world, and I want to see as much of it as I can.

We're currently in Peru (hopefully by now!) for the next week and then we're off to Colombia for a few days, but I realized I still had a few random photos to share from our last trip (Florida)—and I really just wanted an excuse to share my photos of a gift shop that is topped with an enormous wizard head.

The Ringling

The highlight of The Ringling (for me, anyway) was definitely the World's Largest Miniature Circus, but the entire place is beautiful. The Ringling comprises several buildings including Ca'd'Zan, the 36,000-sq-foot house of John and Mable Ringling. The waterfront house was completed in 1926, cost $1.5 million, and was bequeathed to the state of Florida when John died in 1936 (Mable lived here just three years before she died).

The grounds are worth a visit alone, and include an incredible rose garden and banyan trees, which I still can't really believe are real. The grounds are also the final resting place of John, his sister and his wife, who were all reinterred here in 1991. John was the last of the Ringling Brothers to die, and despite once being one of the wealthiest men in the world, he died with just $311 to his name. 

The Ringling is also the home of an enormous museum of art, as well as the circus museum. I was most excited about seeing the circus museum, but we didn't realize until we left that we had missed half of it. There are two buildings, one of which houses the miniature circus along with other circus memorabilia, and one that has larger pieces like John Ringling's personal train car. I still feel dumb that we somehow missed that building entirely, but a day in which I see any "world's largest" thing is always a success.

Manatee Viewing Center

On our way to Orlando—before Gatorland, Orange World and Twistee Treats—we stopped at Tampa Electric's manatee viewing center. When Tampa Bay reaches 68 degrees or colder, manatees come into the power station's discharge canal, where clean, warm saltwater flows back to the bay. Today, the canal is a state and federally designated manatee sanctuary, with a series of viewing platforms and docks that you can access for free. It was a bit too warm already when we went, and we ended up seeing just one manatee—and from far away—but they had a good gift shop, a squished penny machine and (my first) Mold-a-Rama machine. We might not have seen many real, live manatees, but the place has fake ones in spades—and remember if you do see a real one, it is against the law to harass, molest, disturb or pursue a manatee.

Goodie's Gift Shop

This somehow wasn't already on my list, but we drove right by it on our way to Gatorland and obviously had to stop (it's just half a mile from Orange World). The inside of this shop was unremarkable, but I just love everything about the huge wizard and the generic "GIFT SHOP" signage. I've since found that we missed a few more of these in the area—at least one more with a wizard theme, and one with a giant mermaid—but now I have something to look forward to on return trips.

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The Ringling
5401 Bay Shore Rd,
Sarasota, FL 34243

Open daily, 10am-5pm, Thursdays until 8pm

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Manatee Viewing Center
6990 Dickman Rd
Apollo Beach, FL 33572

Open daily, 10am-5pm, Nov. 1 through April 15

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Goodie's Gift Shop
5229 W Irlo Bronson Memorial Hwy
Kissimmee, FL 34746

Twistee Treats

I used to live just minutes from three separate Twistee Treat locations in Ohio, but I didn't really fully appreciate them until I moved 450 miles away. One was even located in the parking lot of the grocery store, where I shopped at least once a week—and I only ever stopped for ice cream once. I actually never did much in Ohio when I was actually living in Ohio, but after I moved away I've now seen Twistee Treats in Niagra Falls, southern Ohio and even revisited the ones in my old neighborhood. 

Twistee Treat is a relatively new entry into the novelty architecture canon— the corporate chain was founded in 1983 in North Fort Myers, Florida. Because of its origins, Florida is still lousy with the iconic ice-cream-shaped buildings, and I knew we had to stop at at least one on our recent Florida trip. 

This isn't a problem I usually encounter with roadside attractions, but there are almost too many Twistee Treats in Florida, especially around the Orlando area. Thankfully, I was able to do some research via Google Maps, and I virtually traveled to each one, searching for a stand-out. Most of the cones look very similar, and in fact all of the corporate stores are marked with their trademark chocolate dip and tiny, LED sprinkle lights. The original Twistee Treat company actually went bankrupt in the 90s, but new companies bearing the name and patents for the buildings were formed. There are still some privately owned stands operating, and new cones are still being produced.

I had focused my research to the Orlando/Kissimmee area, figuring that we'd be down for an ice cream treat somewhere between shopping at Orange World and our adventures in Gatorland. When I found a Twistee Treat with large, pastel sprinkles (or SPRANKLES, as I noted on my Google Map) I knew that I had found the winner. 

But before we even got there, we happened upon yet another Twistee Treat when we stopped for lunch—about a mile away from the sprinkle cone (apparently Twistee Treats are to Florida what Starbucks stores are to New York). This one was the corporate design, appeared to be brand new and wasn't open until later in the afternoon but I'll never tire of just being in close proximity to such delightful novelty architecture. 

We finally did make it to the sprinkle cone (where I got ... a sprinkle cone) and although the light was in the very wrong spot (a problem we seemed to have all day), I will always be at my happiest when I'm making a purchase from a building shaped like what it contains.

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Twistee Treat Kyngs Heath
2952 Vineland Rd
Kissimmee, FL 34746

Twistee Treat of Kissimmee (large sprinkles)
4722 W Irlo Bronson Memorial Hwy
issimmee, FL 34746

Gatorland

While I was planning our recent trip to Florida, I became intent on visiting Orange World. The big, orange-shaped gift shop is located in Kissimmee, which is about an hour and 45 minutes from where we were staying. While I'm certainly not opposed to driving or walking long distances for things many people would call silly, I thought it just made sense to find other attractions in the Orlando area. Of course Orlando is Disney country, but we chose to spend our time at an amusement park that is much more my speed—Gatorland. 

Gatorland, which claims to be the "Alligator Capital of the World," is a theme park and wildlife preserve in Orlando. It was founded in 1949 and has been owned by the same family ever since. It's sort of like a zoo—with several species of birds roaming the property including peacocks and flamingos in addition to a snake exhibit and several sizes and colors of alligators and crocodiles. 

Gatorland is famous for its collection of leucistic alligators, which appear white due to a partial loss of pigmentation (not the same thing as being an albino, although they have one of those too). They also put on shows: Up-close Encounters, an animal show-and-tell; Gator Wrestlin'; and the Gator Jumparoo, which features gators jumping in the air to catch food off of a clothesline.

We skipped the Up-Close Encounters show, but we saw Gator Wrestlin' and the Gator Jumparoo, which they repeat several times a day. Our shows were entertaining, and while it's hard to tell what's an act and what's real, they still managed to be both suspenseful and surprising. 

I had actually been to Gatorland once before, when I was younger, but I'm glad I got to go back and appreciate the park as a roadside-attraction-loving adult. Gatorland feels like an amusement park from the 40s, and I mean that very much as a compliment. Just like its Mold-a-Rama machines—Gatorland has two!—Gatorland is low-tech but thrilling in its own, charming, Old Florida way.

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Gatorland 
14501 S. Orange Blossom Trail
Orlando, FL 32837
Open daily from 10:00AM to 5:00PM

The World's Largest Miniature Circus

On our recent trip to Florida, we took a day trip to Sarasota to visit The Ringling. John Ringling was one of five "Ringling Brothers." He wisely invested his profits from The Greatest Show on Earth, making him one of the richest men in America in the 1920s. The Ringling comprises several different properties and museums, including John's house, Ca’ d’Zan, a huge art museum, gardens, and the circus museum, which houses The World's Largest Miniature Circus.

The 3,800 square foot Howard Bros. Circus model is "a 44,000-piece re-creation of the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus combined shows from 1919-1938." The model is the life's work of Howard Tibbals and is crafted to an exact 3/4-inch-to-the-foot scale.

Tibbals has been working on the model for more than 50 years, and it includes everything you'd expect to see at a circus and probably much, much more. There are billboards and trains; trapeze artists and barbers; general stores and ice cream stands; elephants and zebras and tigers; clowns and ticket booths—and of course a big top.

I have always loved miniatures—I even bought a book on how to make them when I was younger so I could make my own for a dollhouse that never materialized. My only complaint about this marvel is that you can't possibly see it all, and I'm sure so much of the fine detail goes unnoticed. The overall effect is incredible—there's even a viewing platform so you can get the bird's eye view. I'm so grateful the world includes people like Howard Tibbals, who really understand that the biggest joys can be found in even the smallest of things.

Linger Lodge

The Linger Lodge, a restaurant and campground located in Bradenton, Florida, claims to be "Old Florida at its Best." On our recent trip to Florida, I was intent on having dinner at the Lodge, and knew it was either going to be strange or very strange. Started in 1945 as a campground, the Lodge is full of taxidermy—mostly roadkill—some pieces are good, some pieces are bad and some pieces are so bad that they're great.

It's worth visiting the Linger Lodge for the menu alone. There's an entire page devoted to the roadkill offerings, and it should tell you something about the Lodge that it took us a while to realize that it was a joke (I think??). Offerings include Tummy Teasers such as "Chunk of Skunk" and "Swirl of Squirrel," entrees such as "Center Line Bovine" and "The Chicken (that didn't cross the road),"—but my favorite was definitely "Poodles 'n Noodles."

The Lodge is very proud of their "rare and unusual "Florida Animals"' collection, including a Jackalope, Alaskan Fur Fish and the Walking Catfish. I like taxidermy and I love bad taxidermy, but I'm obsessed with made-up taxidermy. The Linger Lodge was exactly as strange as I wanted it to be and I'm so glad that this Old Florida gem is still around.

Linger Lodge: 7205 85th St Ct E, Bradenton, FL 34202

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Oh, hi!

Welcome to the new Only Living Girl in New York! I hope you enjoy the new site as much as I do! I've reorganized things, making it easier to sort by categories to find what you're interested in—they're listed at the top of each post and in the sidebar—and you can find even more specific tags listed at the bottom of each post, along with related posts. I've also added about and contact pages, if you're into that.

Some of the links are still acting up and not every post has a thumbnail image yet, but I'm really excited about the new look—stay a while, poke around and enjoy your virtual road trip!

Never miss an adventure! Follow along with Bloglovin'

UniRoyal Gal: Tootsie 2017 + Muffler Man: Wrench

My dude's parents recently purchased a house in Bradenton, Florida and one of the first things I did when I learned of its location was to consult Roadside America. I spend hours combing through their maps and archives, planning trips that I may or may not take, and it's the first resource I turn to when I'm traveling somewhere new. I was thrilled to discover that their house was a 15 minute drive from Tootsie the Uniroyal Gal.

Roadside America lists ten known Uniroyal Gals, although American Giants says that they've heard of 17, 12 of which are still visible today. Whichever number is correct, the fact is that there weren't many produced and they are far less common than their male counterpart, the Muffler Man. I saw my first one back in October and I was beyond excited to see another one so soon.

Tootsie, as her current owner calls her, could definitely use a paint touch-up—in fact she's so sun-bleached that she nearly blends in with the beige building behind her. The default was for the gal to sport a bikini, but International Fiberglass also made a removable shirt and skirt (Nitro Girl sports this more modest outfit). Upon closer inspection, Tootsie is actually wearing a polka-dotted bikini, and I love her high-heels and the side-tie detail on the bikini bottom.

Speaking of Muffler Men, there are several around the Tampa area and I made sure that our paths crossed with one on our way to Kissimmee. We were having the worst luck with light—everything that we stopped to photograph was back-lit, but I was still happy to meet my twelfth Muffler Man.

This Muffler Man, which stands outside of an automotive repair shop, has the distinction of being the only one I've seen so far holding a tool. I've seen them saluting, waving, pointing and holding axes, food, signs, a gem stone and a roll of carpet—but I've yet to see one actually holding a muffler.

Mold-A-Rama

I was vaguely familiar with the concept of the Mold-A-Rama machine, but I never encountered one in person until our recent trip to Florida. We stopped by the Tampa Electric Manatee Viewing Center hoping to see loads of manatees and we basically saw one—from above and far away. But they did have a gift shop, a squished penny machine and two Mold-A-Rama machines.

Mold-A-Rama is the brand name of a souvenir vending machine that makes blow-molded plastic figurines. They debuted in 1962 at the Seattle World's Fair and were found en masse at the 1964/65 New York World's Fair. Mold-A-Rama machines were basically the 3D printers of their day, and the inventor licensed the technology to Chicago’s Automatic Retailers of America (ARA). By 1971, ARA had sold the machines to independent operators and two remain today: Mold-A-Rama near Chicago and Mold-A-Matic near Tampa. According to Wikipedia, there were still 124 machines in operation across eight states as of November 2015.

The manatee machine was out of order, but a sign said that pre-made figures were available to purchase in the gift shop. The dolphin machine, however, was working and I put in two dollars and an instant obsession was born. I bought the last Mold-A-Rama manatee that the gift shop had in stock, and it's lumpy and has a hole in its face, but I was thrilled to instantly double my collection.

Fast-forward a few hours and we arrive at Gatorland in Kissimmee to find that they also have two Mold-A-Rama machines: a white alligator and a green double figure of a man wrestling an alligator (found outside of the ring where you can watch its real-life inspiration). Of course I got both, again doubling my collection which rests (for now) at four figures for a grand total of $9 (they're $2 cash, or $2.50 if you pay with a credit card).

I've been collecting floaty pens and squished pennies ever since I can remember, but the Mold-A-Rama fits seamlessly into my souvenir aesthetic—cheap, vintage and whimsical. The figurines are printed with their locations, which is a nice touch, and even though you do zero work—there isn't even a button to push—they still feel somehow personal and unique. It was fun to watch them emerge from the molds, smell their waxy scent and pluck them from the machine. Vintage marvels like the Mold-A-Rama are totally my speed—I don't need fancy graphics or technology to get a thrill—and the chance that I might get a third-degree burn from some leftover molten plastic as I impatiently grab my souvenir is more than enough excitement for me.

Orange World

We just got back from a quick trip to Florida, and the number one thing on my must-see list was Orange World. We were staying with my dude's parents in Bradenton (thank you Jo Ann and Ken!) which isn't exactly close to Orange World, but as I've said before, my love of novelty architecture knows no bounds.

Orange World, or "The Big Orange" as I've taken to calling it, is a gift shop and roadside citrus stand, and it's shaped like a huge orange. It's so big, in fact, that they say it's the World's Largest Orange—although technically it's only half of an orange. The man at the counter explained that the building was originally just circular with a flat top. Allegedly the owner was eating at the Waffle House next door and looking at the building when he had the idea to build the orange on top—after the addition was completed, business tripled overnight.

The area used to be surrounded by orange groves, but is now full of hotels and gift shops catering to the Disney overflow. Orange World is just one of several huge gift shops on Route 192 in Kissimmee, but it's definitely the most memorable.

Update: Look how cute it looks from Google Earth (who knew it had leaves and a stem!):

Cocoa Beach, Florida

Last week I went on a cruise with my mom's whole family—my first (my last?)—and our first stop was in Port Canaveral, Florida. Neither my mom or I are really adventure excursion people, so we opted for a shuttle that took us to Cocoa Beach. We're not really beach people either, but it was nice to feel warm—really warm—for the first time in a very long winter.

I was hoping that there would be more I Dream of Jeannie-related things around, but I only found a few: a street sign (that I walked nearly two miles to find), a painting on the side of the "I Dream of Yogurt" shop and a commemorative sign explaining Cocoa Beach's significance to the show.

There were a few kitschy beach shops, one with an amazing concrete (?) shark on its sign, a beautiful (to me, at least) Waffle House and what is surely the beach souvenir shop, Twombly's Seashell Tables. Unfortunately Twombly's was on the other side of a very busy divided highway and my blistered, sunburnt feet weren't too happy about me walking half a mile to the next crosswalk. Now, of course, I regret not checking it out because based on its sign alone, I'm sure it's incredible.

There really wasn't much to Cocoa Beach and it definitely wasn't a very walkable town. The Ron Jon Surf Shop is there, if you're into that, and the actual beach was as nice as any Atlantic Ocean beach I've been to, but it was indistinguishable from Coney Island or Long Beach—and not nearly as kitschy or as close.