Friday, September 18, 2009

FireFly/Lightening Bug

Carl, Donny Black and I were at the opposite end of Rollin-In-IT. But we managed to bs our way into a small, ranch style rental in Plantation with an above ground pool filled with green sludge thick as pea soup. This was 2-3 years after high school, so we're a prime target as base camp for "friends" coming down for Spring Break wanting to hang at The Button or Art Stock's PlayPen off A1A.
Our landlords/caretakers who lived right next door, Duane and What's-Her-Name were from the South. You could just tell What's-Her-Name was more than a little wary of 3 young, shaggy haired, Yankee roughians. She would come by once a week for a random walk thru disguised as checking for Palmetto bugs er something equally banal, but we always seemed to hide any signs of deviant behavior just in time.
Duane, the husband, on the other hand, was the definitive Georgia Peach. Nice as could be. About a month or so in and a collective volunteer effort on renewing the above ground pool, Duane realized us guys were pretty straight-up small town boys, a little carny like maybe but small town boys non the less.
Carl and I were the only ones home on a Saturday morning when Duane knocked on the door and asked us what we were doin. He said;"I'm takin the boat out today, wanna go along?"
The boat was an airboat, to we which we replied; "shitchyah!"
We ambled thru Alligator Alley with a cooler full of Blatz and airboat in tow till we arrived at Duane's favored launch.
The Everglades...Up Close and Personal!
On average, these boats pack about 400 horsepower from either an aircraft or big block car engine. The big block is preferred since its cheaper to operate than aviation fuel. We head out for clear water...what clear water, there is only high grass or a little lower than high grass but Duane lets er rip anyways.
Strap Yourself In Son, We Got Ourselves A Race Cah. It's so loud you might as well be duct taped to the outside of a bi-plane in a dogfight and you can't see anything but the sawgrass you're mowin down in front of you doin maybe 40-50 mph.
Duane taps me on the shoulder and gives me the international sign for hoisting a cool one. I grab one for myself, AAAAHHHH Nector 'O' the Gods I always say and nary a gator in site 'cept for the ones we tonked on the head whilst we scream thru the Glades.

Thanks go out to Carl for clearing the cobwebs
Photo from