ZnowbirdZ in ParadiZe
Matt's trip home:
"Matt, I've got good news, bad news, and good news for you. First the bad news..." a little Znowbird once told me. Uh-oh, wonder this means? It's always the bad news first, isn't it? This is how a Znowbird found out he'd be flying alone for a couple of days in paradiZe. Not that this bird minded at all. In fact, on the whole, I'd say it was probably a good thing. It did get me to do something other than be lazy for the remainder of my trip.
"So, just sit right back and you'll hear a tale..."
The day started just like all the previous ones for that week: get up late, decide whether or not to have food, and hang out with the birds. That is of course, only for the first hour or so. It was packing day. Sprydle and I, after having much fun, were being ejected from our warm nests in paradise back to the harsh realities of work and winter in the Great White North. His flight was at 3-something pm, so we were aiming to get him to Ft. Myers Airport at about 1pm. Rachel made us take all the junkfood with us. Ow, Rachel, stop twisting my arm! I'll take the cookies, pretzels and candy! As you can imagine, that took a lot of convincing. Life is a burden sometimes, isn't it? :)
    Inventory -
  • Reese's Pieces check!
  • Chocolate Raisins check!
  • Chips Ahoy check!
  • Gatorade check!
  • Toasted Peanuts check!
  • Pretzels check!
  • Orange Juice check! <-- argh, that's healthy! How'd that get in there?!
  • Kit Kat Bites check!

We are prepped for take-off. Rachel chased after us T-1000 style as we drove away from the house. If the Terminator could chase after you with a smile on its face, I'm pretty sure that would be something like the scene we witnessed. Good thing she never quite caught up to the car. I wouldn't want to have to explain holes in the trunk to the rental agency, would you? With Spyrdle's stuff in the trunk, and mine in the pitiful Camaro back seat, we headed off to the airport. After arriving at Ft. Myers Airport, Spyrdle and I said our goodbyes, as we moved my stuff from the back seat to the trunk. The Gatorade was now gone.
Scratch that item off the list. I got back in the car at the terminal, adjusting all the mirrors to my preferences, and realized I now have nothing to do. I can go anywhere, do anything, as long as I'm back in time for my flight home, which isn't for another day and a half! I had written down some directions from Yahoo! Maps on how to get to Miami Airport, Fort Lauderdale, and Miami Beach the night before, so I was stocked and ready to go.... Or not! Only a 1/4 tank of gas!?!
I usually push both my cars to the empty mark, because I hate filling up the car. It's just dead time. The difference here is that I know those cars, and know how far I can push it before I really am stuck on the side of the road. Clrvue1 warned me about letting it go under a quarter, so that was ringing in my ears, and I don't want to be 1000+ miles from home with no gas so I decide to be prudent and look for a gas station. I also decide that since I'm pretty sure I can make a good distance before I do run out, that I'll follow the directions from the web to the point that I know I can get on the highway easily, then get gas.
Right on Chamberlain, check!
Left on Doherty, check!
Left onto SR-93.
SR-93?!?! Where's that?!? I know that I need to eventually get on Alligator Alley for the trip east. I aimlessly plow ahead, looking for something that says 93, and find nothing. I know I passed an onramp for 75 and was pretty sure that was the interstate I needed to get on Alligator Alley, but I figured discretion was in order and decide to keep looking for the elusive 93. It was only supposed to be 3 miles from the last turn, and I know I've gone much further than that. At this point, Traffic Pro is sounding awfully damn good. Well I need gas, so I decide that I'll turn around and head back the other direction. At this point someone in a Chrystler Sebring convertible pulls up beside me.
"Hey, do you know if there's a K-Mart up this road?" he asks.
"Sorry, no I don't," I reply. I'd ask him for 93, but I guess that'd be the blind leading the blind. On the bright side, I guess this means I didn't look much like a tourist, at least to him.
Backtracking, I start following the signs for I-75, and pull into a gas station. Now I'm stocked, and ready to rock. Remembering Rachel's article in Roundel, I say to hell with the Y chromosome, I'm wasting valuable vacationing time!
"Do you know how to get on State Route 93?" I ask the station attendant.
Giving me a quizical look like I just sprouted two heads, "nope.." is the reply. Perfect, even the locals haven't heard of this mythical road. It's nice to know Yahoo! Maps can just make up roads. Now Traffic Pro sounds really, REALLY good.
"OK, OK. How about Alligator Alley?" Everyone must know how to get there.
"Just head down the street and get on 75 South," she says.
HA! I knew it!!!
I get on the highway, and it's about 2:20pm. This means I wasted a good 45mins to an hour trying to follow the web directions. Sigh.
Alligator Alley is, well, no alley. It's 6 lanes of straight, no turning highway for miles, and miles, and miles. This is the result of planning, I start to ponder. In the Northeast, all our roads are widened out animal trails that got used for horses, then carriages, then eventually for trains and cars. Consequently, we tend to take the long road to nowhere. In FL, someone actually sat down and said, "OK, how are we going to plan this thing?" The result is pure logic, and utter boredom.
3:30pm ... It's 106 miles to Ft. Lauderdale, we've got a 3/4 tank of gas, half a packet of Kit Kat Bites, it's sunny, and I'm wearing sunglasses, AND I'M STILL GOING STRAIGHT!! At this point, I notice, "Hey my arm hurts!" Perfect! I'm getting a great sunburn to show off at work when I get back. You'd think after owning a Miata and a Z3 for the past 2 years, I'd know enough to put sunscreen on before embarking top down in 80 degree weather. Nope! Winter must've dulled my brain cells.

That's all Matt wrote so far... please email Matt and whine to him so he finishes his story! ;P
I can tell you the Blue M Roadster below is our friend MW, Michael Wand, who is the *only* Florida Z3er who met up with any of us anywhere!

and this is Miami Beach....



and I guess this pic kind of says it all!
Good Bye ParadiZe! Good Bye Friends, see you when I get home!
26
ZnowbirdZ in ParadiZe
Part 1 Da PreZ is in Da HouZe~~ Part 2 Da PreZ is in Da Car~~ Part 3 Vogue-ing Da PreZ~~
Part 4 Enter Brent and Connie~~ Part 5 Enter Jon and Matt~~
Part 6 Everybody in the Pool!~~ Part 7 What to do for Dinner?~~
Part 8 Hit the Road!~~
Part 9 Big Ass Zhrimp~~ Part 10 Anal Agony and other Hot Sauces~~
Part 11 Z3 GroZery Shopping~~ Part 12 Enter the Kit Kat BiteZ~~ Part 13 Topless Wash~~
Part 14 Grill MaZter Rachel?~~ Part 15 Breakfast 2~~
Part 16 Follow the Zun~~ Part 17 Z3ers hit the Beach~~
Part 18 Where's My Feet?~~
Part 19 Jon's FirZt Time~~ Part 20 Catching the LaZt RayZ~~
Part 21 Z3 ZunsetZ~~ Part 22 BeZt Dinner~~ Part 23 Say Goodbye to ParadiZe~~
Part 24 NapleZ to NaZhville~~ Part 25 Kevil and Cairo~~ Part 26 Matt in Miami~~
The Znowbird Zeries, January 31- March 28 2002

Zodom and Gamorrah
Zouth of the Border
with a Z3 Cat

January 31, 2002

Fort MyerZ
SCCA NationalZ
Blame Dr. Biggly

February 24, 2002

ZnowbirdZ In ParadiZe
Z3 ZunsetZ
Take a Vacation!

March 9-18, 2002

Znowbird Fly Home
Leaving ParadiZe
FL, NC, VA and NYC!

March 23-28, 2002
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