You Know You're on Vacation When You Shampoo With "Pert" Part 2- Pensacola, Florida

You Know You're on Vacation When You Shampoo With "Pert"

Pensacola, Florida



The Redneck Boogie

On Sunday, two friends of Chris, Pat and Debbie from nearby Gulf Shores, Alabama joined us for the day. The surf was great. Pat, Chris and I decided we needed boogie boards to enhance our wave-mediated activities. So off we went on what we thought would be an easy task in a beach town - buying boogie boards. When we weren't looking for them, it seemed that every shop, petrol station and lemonade stand had stacks of boogie boards for sale. Now that we wanted them, they had all mysteriously disappeared. After trying about five likely-looking places unsuccessfully, we went to Alvin's Island, Florida's ubiquitous beach-oriented tourist shop.

At Alvin's Island, you can find everything from seashells painted in hues that would challenge an interior decorator to name, to t-shirts emblazoned with the double-entendre "Big Johnson" logos. And boogie boards. Until we found the stash of extra stock upstairs, we were afraid that we would have to settle for the "Betty Boop" boards or the boards that had the confederate flag on them. We agonized over the choice; we were confronted with a situation in which neither product conveyed to the world a proper reflection of the true characteristics of our innermost soul and anima. I didn't want to be identified by the confederate flag, the rallying rag of rednecks. The most noble characters recently associated with the rebel flag were the Dukes of Hazzard. And I wasn't certain I wanted to play on the beach with a symbol of historic intolerance in the midst of already angst-ridden gay guys who were bigger and more muscular than me. The other choice, the Betty Boop boogie board, took little thought to realize that it was definitely not the ultimate statement of beach self-expression.

Finally, we discovered the excess stock of boogie boards upstairs. An abundance of cool designs finally fulfilled our need for appropriate display of our true inner selves. Pat got a dolphin on his, Chris got a surfing alien design and I got a shark (definitely the coolest of the three).

Raw Meat and Boiling Oil

After a hard day playing in the surf and sunning on the beach, we went to go eat at The Melting Pot, a fondue restaurant that we had found the night before and had heard lots of good things about from friends. We looked forward to trying it so we made reservations for six people at eight o'clock and showed up right on time. We were seated promptly a half an hour later, though the restaurant couldn't have been more than half full. After another twenty minutes, our waiter deigned to grace us with his presence and we were forced to bother him with our drink order. As we gazed uncomprehending at the menu, we were confronted with the knowledge that none of us understood how this whole fondue thing worked. We made the mistake of hinting at this to our waiter, who immediately chastised our foolish ignorance with a rapid-fire spiel that left us dizzy with even greater confusion. Slowly we put together the fragments of sentences that we had individually picked up and worked out an order. The only thing that we did understand on the menu were the prices, with the cheapest "fondue for two" hovering around $48! We couldn't really leave, so we decided to suck it up and order.

It was the main course that really cemented our dislike for The Melting Pot. It started with two big cauldrons being placed on the built-in warmers on the table. The cauldrons turned out to be vats of oil. I could hardly fathom what it was for; this was not how I had pictured fondue. I had always thought of it as a big pot of creamy hot cheesy goo that you dipped things in. Thus I was unprepared for the big plates full of raw meat and shrimp that were plopped onto the table. It slowly dawned on us that we were expected to stick the meat into the pots of hot oil to cook it. Of course, one pot was still cold and the other pot was slightly warmer than the surface of the sun. Though the various meats and vegetable uniformly tasted like a ball of grease after cooking in either pot, the wildly different temperatures made for exciting and potentially dangerous adventures. You wondered if you would catch salmonella from undercooked raw meat or otherwise tried to keep your food and tablemates from going up in a ball of flame.

The final insult came at the end of the meal, when none of the plates with leftover raw meat were removed, but instead were left on our table to fester and collect vermin, even while we indulged in dessert. I had never before experienced dipping fruit into chocolate while surrounded by aging raw meat. It was, to say the very least, interesting. Let's just say that we are all quite over the whole fondue experience, especially after having all received third degree burns somewhere on our anatomy. I don't think that dinner in any restaurant should be quite so challenging an experience. If you're ever in the mood for danger while you dine on raw flesh, you can't beat the Melting Pot!

Final Reprieve

Grainne and I had to leave early on Monday, because I had to work that night. So we bid Chris and Jackie goodbye on the beach, and headed out. Before hitting the Interstate, we decided to stop at Chan's Market Cafe for lunch (16 Via de Lune). It sounds oriental, but is in fact a little diner to get home cooking. Chan's has, hands down, the absolute best potato salad I have ever had, along with some very tasty chicken strips. The burger that my wife got was nothing less than fantastic, and even the fries were outstanding. We got a very hearty piece of baklava for the road, and it was great too. We could barely finish our meal because of the generous quantities, and the price for the whole thing was a scant $12. If you find yourself in Pensacola Beach, Chan's is not to be missed.

All in all, we had a terrific time in Pensacola. We were even glad that we went to the Melting Pot, because it quelled any possible nagging desire to have a fondue meal again. If you ever are looking for a great town and a beautiful beach without the tackiness of somewhere like Panama City, you'd be hard pressed to find a better place than Pensacola.

Read Part One of You Know You're on Vacation