Labor Day in St Augustine

 I wrote a post about Labor Day in St Augustine, but it remains in my drafts because obviously I didn’t think I had a very good time. That’s mostly due to a generous sunburn. The truth is, it was all it was supposed to be. I’ll write it now the way it happened (although I really have a soft spot for that first draft. I may be repurposing jokes). 

I know it’s hot as hell in Florida and yet I will not wear sunblock except at the beach. My nicotine addled brain can’t adhere to any good advice, hence the hamster wheel of smoking and delusions. I’ll just crack it up to being in my stubborn thirties; young enough not to care, but about to fall off a cliff just over the hill. I can’t pick up the knack of flossing either. People like me should not be allowed to have health insurance. 

Anyways, it did happen to be another bright and beautiful day in historic St Augustine. Google says it takes about an hour from Daytona Beach to there. I wasn’t driving. I was sipping a fresh pumpkin coffee from Wawa while I found a good radio station. We had to park in a parking garage. I imagine someone is very rich from all the money accrued at these garages. Someone not us. You can charge for gas, you can charge for air, you can charge to park. Jim Morrison once said “this is the strangest life I’ve ever known,” (I have to give credit to a close friend for introducing me to Morrison ;)). You have to pay to be buried in dirt, too.

Speaking of, we stumbled upon a very old and very interesting cemetery, about an acre big with a modest wrought iron fence and above ground tombs. All we wanted to do was read the dates and the names, cause we’re morbid and curious, but we couldn’t get in. John read on a sign that it’s only open the third Saturday of each month from 11 - 2. That’s an odd schedule. But this is a ghost town after all (literally) and people have to follow the rules. Right beside the cemetery was a wax museum that had a small gift shop inside an old apothecary that used to be in the wooden building. Original bottles and vials remained in the glass displays. There was talcum powder and perfumes for women, boasting strong rose scents, and one medicine which took me by surprise was a “vitality tonic” that contained 18 percent grain alcohol. It seems that drinking used to be good for people, especially for women with their moods and deficiencies. I should have been born in a different time.

Next we walked the cobblestone streets of alleys that is the towns center of attention, because there are so many shops and cafes and bars and confectionaries and eateries and boutiques. It’s so much fun, you forget the town is haunted. We stepped in several stores. We had to investigate what they could be selling in a high end popsicle shop. We got yummy praline chocolate caramel turtles at the cracker house (yeah don’t ask). I wanted to look at clothes but couldn’t decide to buy anything, just dragging John behind me so unamused. I did get a bottle of jalapeño pepper sauce at the Pepper Palace with a little persuasion and several samples, none really pleasing my tastebuds. It was already a hot day that just got hotter as I sampled a cocktail weenie cooked in habanero sauce. I’ll just make a joke here: I got burned inside and out. 

John grabbed a couple local guides that listed stores and restaurants, so he wanted me to pick a place to eat , and I thought the Sunset Grille sounded pretty good. We thought we could walk there, even though it was on the other side of the bridge. So we did, but had to turn around before we ever made it because we were not any where close and we had trekked ALOT, miles atleast. My arches ached in my brown strap sandals and I needed a Celsius drink to keep going. We walked back to the parking garage and drove to the restaurant instead.

The Sunset Grille is on beachside but is not on the beach to my disappointment. And John says the name is silly because no one sees sunsets on the east coast (men are very practical. I’m very fanciful and taken in by cool names). The menu was mostly seafood, and I don’t eat fish anymore. It’s not a moral thing, it’s just my tastes have changed (and I should beware of anything “fishy”). I got a burger and John ate a nice steak sandwich. We switched drinks because he thought his tea was too sweet but I liked it so he had to settle for my Diet Pepsi ( I am trying to diet and I believe Coca Cola is plotting against me). It was a delicious meal, but yet we didn’t spend the required sixty dollars that would win us a free t shirt as advertised. Poo. I wanted to try the key lime pie but I was too full. It’s a shame. 

I didn’t really buy anything the whole trip, except a coffee and hot sauce (which will not be pretty later (which John actually paid for)). I guess the sunburn was my only souvenir (and I’ll wear it proudly!). I think the lesson is that I need to splurge and live a little. Especially since I live in a vacation state and get to go on all these fun trips. And I didn’t need a drop of alcohol to enjoy any of it.

I don’t know if I am allowed to celebrate Labor Day since I am not contributing to labor. Maybe they can  make an exception for me.