Florida revisited: Eating out, journey’s end

By Joel H. Cohen

NEW YORK — Just the mention of Florida evokes some very happy or, in any case, indelible memories.

It may seem like masochism, but on an early trip to Early Bird Land, my wife and I looked forward to meeting with 19 individuals or couples — relatives and friends from home, who’d either settled in the Sunshine State or become regular winter refugees there.

When we contacted them, their seemingly happy response, almost without exception, was “You’ll come see my apartment, and then we’ll go out to eat.”

Under the best of circumstance, it’s difficult for me to find genuinely sincere compliments for even one dishwasher or refrigerator, let alone 19. This is especially the challenge when I know that the owner is unlikely ever to use the appliance, since he or she usually eats out.

Eating seems to be a major pastime in Florida, sometimes with amusing results, as when a waitress at a coffee shop attached to a motel where we were staying was promoting Belgian waffles.

She was so delighted when I asked for one, she sped away without taking my wife’s order. When we kidded her about it, she was so embarrassed, she insisted we take her own discount tickets for the remainder of our stay.

On another trip, my wife’s brother and sister-in-law invited us to stop in at their Century Village apartment in Boca Raton on our way in from the airport. They were going to be picked up by friends to — what else? — go out to eat, and we had a date to meet friends farther south later that evening. So the visit was the traditional short and sweet.

Our relatives’ ride came, and we got into our rented car, which refused to start. Enter helpful Floridian kibbitzers, who seemed to pour out of Century Village, yelling helpful hints: “Give it more gas.” “No, he’ll flood the motor.” When nothing worked, I realized I’d have to call the rental place for a road call or replacement vehicle, and phone our friends to say we’d be very late for our get-together.

I asked a friendly man, among those who’d come out of the complex and offered advice, whether I might use his phone. And because this was before credit cards were in general use, I would use my phone card.

“Certainly, you can use my phone,” he said, adding, “and you don’t have to use your phone card.”

“Let him,” his wife muttered.

And in the interest of his domestic tranquility, I did use my card,  and the rest of the evening went smoothly for us and, I hope, for him.

Some critics of Florida say “there’s nothing to do there.” Others respond, “Maybe when you visit, but not if you live there.” As with any established location, there are concerts, shows, museums, college courses, and more. As visitors, sometimes in the company of residents, but not always, we’ve enjoyed a variety of activities.

Among many diverse, memorable ones, we witnessed a space launch from a relatively close distance (though, if truth be told, some of our party were in a coffee shop when the rocket took off)…watched the New York Mets play a spring training exhibition game… saw a movie about the ill-fated St. Louis, made by a man who’d been on the ship as a teenager. He and two other passenger who hadn’t known one another on the ship, one of them a longtime friend of ours, answered questions the night the film was shown (More about that in a later column).

We’ve even gone bird-watching….heard a lecture by a woman from an organization that awards Pinocchios to politicians for the lies they tell…and attended a shul in Delray Beach whose spiritual leader is a man we’ve known all his life. Informed we’d be at his shul that Shabbos, he identified us from the bima as “a couple who were at my bris, my Bar Mitzvah and my wedding.”

Much of southern Florida’s population is rather old and many are physically challenged: A friend left his wife off at a breakfast place, went to park, and came into the restaurant. “I’m looking for a gray-haired woman with a cane,” he said to the young counterman, who replied,”Mister, just about everybody in here is a gray-haired woman with a cane”

Because Florida attracts an older population, including some very senior senior citizens, it’s been referred to as “God’s waiting room.” And a promotion-writer named one of the settlements, “Journey’s End.” Ouch.

My wife offered a positive spin “Maybe they meant, this complex is perfect; you don’t have to look any further” Nice try.

But as pleasant as trips to Florida have been, it’s always good to return home, where, some obstacles notwithstanding, the journey is still in progress.

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Humorist Joel Cohen resides in New York City.