Alaska v. Florida

You really can’t get any farther apart than Alaska and Florida—unless maybe you just keep going south and head straight for Brazil—and there are a few differences that became readily apparent during our two-week stay. Well, one or two. Maybe three or four.

1. Terrain. Florida is FLAT. As in, if Columbus had landed there he may have had to rethink that “world is round” theory of his. When you’re coming from a place with 17 of the 20 largest mountains in North America to a land where a ten foot tide could put the whole state underwater you know you’ve hit the ultimate extreme. I guess flat has its advantages . . . perhaps one enjoys the privilege of seeing the weather coming from a great distance? Or to be able to scope out the largest tree for twenty miles? Knowing where the tallest tree is would be especially handy if that ten foot tide scenario ever came into play.

It does make freeway overpasses rather exciting—when you get to the top of the rise you’re just King of the World with that spectacular view. Heh.

2. Roads. However, don’t get too excited with all that magnificent expressway grandeur because it’ll cost you. Having lived briefly on the east coast I have seen a toll booth before (once) I'm not a complete hick but in Florida toll booths rule the world. Better have those quarters handy because you can’t go anywhere without a toll (heaven forbid you should need a ride to the hospital and forget your change).

From Miami to Orlando you hit four booths, from Orlando to Cape Canaveral will cost you $5.50 round trip then from Orlando to Ft. Myers you hit a couple more. Go to Sanibel Island and it’ll cost you six dollars in tolls, to cross the bridge to Cape Coral will be two dollars. From Ft. Myers down to Naples and over to Miami there’s one more. Amazing—you should have heard Andrew grumbling about the experience. We ended up paying around fifty dollars all told just in toll fees, though I have to say that they do keep those roads nicely maintained. Not a pot hole in sight *sniff.* Kind of made me homesick for a good old-fashioned, brain-jarring jolt instead of all that smooth, glossy comfort and well-lit driving pleasure.

One time we went out for an evening in Orlando and got turned around (no mountains means no landmarks so it’s anyone’s guess which way is north) and ended up accidentally getting stuck on the wrong road. We funneled into a toll booth, then another and couldn’t get off. When we finally did get off and got turned around and back home we’d hit a total of six toll booths—all by accident. ACK!

3. Water. Speaking of public utilities, let’s tackle the subject of water. In Florida they must be very eco-friendly or something because they make their own water I think, probably from underground plants that pump it up to the surface via manatee flipper action. At least that’s what it tastes like. However, before I am accused of too much griping and complaining they do have the definite orange juice advantage. In fact citrus in general makes Florida look pret-ty darn cool because it’s just wonderfully tasty. Seventy-nine cents a pound for oranges! No joke. And the oranges I bought peeled like a dream.

4. Air. Maybe it’s the whole citrus thing but the whole darn state smells terrific. Yes, you’ve got the ultra-clean mountain air up north and that’s all fine and dandy I’m sure but get off the plane and take a whiff of ocean breezes mixed with citrus groves and sun and you can’t breathe enough. I’m going to miss the warm, lovely smell. Sidenote: speaking of smells during one of our shelling expeditions Lillian picked up some clam shells that still had pieces of clam clinging inside and I didn’t notice. I put the bag aside in our hotel room, everyone got cleaned up and went to bed and it wasn’t until the morning when we were greeted with the aroma of day-old rotting clams that we realized the magnitude of our mistake. There isn't a smell on the planet that could be worse than that. Housekeeping loved us I’m sure.

5. Cars. There isn’t a dirty car in the entire state of Florida. No lie, I think it’s a state regulation or something that you can’t go more than a week without washing your car because I never saw one dirty vehicle the whole time. Ever. In fact, cars there are rather swanky in general, you really miss the dirty, rust-ripened pick-up trucks of the mighty north (hey, I hadn’t thought of that, maybe the dirty Alaskan cars are practical—hides all the rust spots).

In fact, our last day we drove from Ft. Myers down through Naples then east to Miami and we pulled into a gas station at Pelican Bay in Naples to refuel. Out of the eight pumps available I counted a BMW, three Mercedes, a Cadillac and three Lexuses—or is that Lexi? We felt rather out of place in a lowly Honda Odyssey from Hertz. There goes the neighborhood. “Just passing through folks, just passing through.” While I waited for the car to fill I watched the guy in front of us rubbing some non-existent dust off his Lexus’s behind with a cloth—and with all the emotion he was putting into it I wondered if I should have asked him if he’d like some privacy, it seemed to be quite the sensual experience. Maybe we Alaskans are missing out on something.

6. Taxes. I’m not sure where the money for the cars is coming from because there are plenty of taxes that eat up your cash. David wanted to buy an authentic alligator head and had saved up seven dollars for his most manly of purchases but every time he went looking for one he realized that he’d forgot about sales tax (not having it in Anchorage). I ended up stepping in and covering the tax for him but he still never had quite enough for that authentic gator head. Darn. He ended up buying a bag of teeth instead, which seemed amazingly barbaric to me but then what do I know? I come from a state that shellacs moose pellets and sells them as tie tacks. I guess I can’t pass any judgment there.

7. Wildlife. Speaking of the whole moose v. alligator issue maybe Alaska and Florida are more alike than you’d originally think. Yes, our wildlife is different—you can’t get much more diverse than moose and alligators but people come to Alaska looking to see moose. Me? I hate them, they eat my trees and bushes, leave droppings in my yard and close down the school playground when ever one happens to wander through. I would bet that Florida and its alligators aren’t much different. We came to see gators and stopped at every spot to gawk at the lazy beasts with the rest of the hordes of tourists. “Look! There’s one!” Such excitement. But I’d be willing to bet if you lived in Florida the sight of alligators has lost its thrill. They don’t really do much, just kind of lie there all day and if you found one where it didn’t belong it would be a hassle to get rid of it. Tourists love them but I bet the locals are less-enthusiastic. Just a guess. And that pretty much sums up the moose issue here as well. Do you think Australians feel that way about kangaroos and koalas?

8. Languages. We flew into Miami and when we got off the plane I could have sworn I’d ended up in Havana. Oh yes. Signs, announcements, radio stations, magazines, everything was in Spanish. It was a little strange, though not unpleasant. Then wherever we went we heard all sorts of other languages: German, Norwegian (at least I think it might have been Norwegian), French, Italian, Portuguese and plenty of Aussies and Brits with their cool accents as well. I had no idea Florida was so popular with the UK and European tourists—I mean they’ve got Euro Disney why would they travel all the way to Florida when they’ve got the Happiest Place on Earth right there in their midst? I’m joking here, just in case there’s any doubt. Anyway, it made for quite the cosmopolitan feel and actually Anchorage is a little like that. We get quite a few foreign tourists through the state and with it being an easy air hop to Asia (relatively speaking) we get our share of Asian tourists as well.

9. Beaches. Well regardless of having Euro Disney Europe doesn’t have beaches and sand the way Florida does. Alaska has nothing but muddy, silty, clay stretches that try to pathetically pass themselves off as beaches but you’d never take your shoes off and run your toes through the sand the way you do in Florida. I’ve been to beaches in Hawaii, Mexico, Belize, Guatemala, the Bahamas and California but never felt anything to compare. Well done Florida! That certainly ought to compensate for that whole 2000 presidential election fiasco.

10. Food prices. If you have a national restaurant chain that advertises a value menu you can be sure that the value doesn’t extend so far north as Alaska. The “dollar” menu of the Lower 48 has mysteriously morphed into the dollar forty-nine menu. Stinks, I know. Anyway, it was terribly refreshing to go out to eat in Florida and find that one could pay for six meals and still have enough left over to eat tomorrow, though that bonus definitely doesn’t include eating at the theme parks. You would not believe the price of a hamburger some of those places—EIGHT DOLLARS!!!! Just for a hamburger. And not a GOOD hamburger. I mean there are states where you could buy a whole cow for that price and still have money left for the bun but not in the theme parks. It’s outrageous I tell you. If people think the IRS is a big bad scam they should start looking at theme park concessions—that’s where the real theft is going on.

11. Bugs. But with all the lovely warm weather and soft tropical breezes I was impressed at how few bugs I saw. Hawaii has spiders so big you can hear the bones crack when you whack them (if you dare) but not one spider did I see the whole two weeks we were in Florida. In fact, the only bug we saw was when Andrew got up one morning and looked over into the corner of our hotel room and squealed, “A BUG!” Whereupon he grabbed a fistful of toilet paper and pounced upon it in a style that would have made the Crocodile Hunter proud. Arms flying, tissue tussling and he came up out of breath, clutching his wad of paper and claiming victory over the six-legged intruder.

“What was that?” I asked.

“A cockroach!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

And we were on the fifth floor, who knows what’s crawling in the basements. In case you were wondering we stayed at the Hawthorn Suites on Lake Buena Vista which was only okay. The shower head was so “low-flow” that I would have had more water pressure if Andrew had stood in the opposite corner of the bathroom and flung water droplets at me using an eyedropper. But I digress. He wouldn’t show me the bug but flushed it immediately so there’s no forensic proof that what he captured was indeed a cockroach but are you going to be the one to do the autopsy? I thought not.

12. Good things growing. But while the bugs are mercifully low-profile there is plenty of other stuff growing all over the Sunshine State. Not only do they have trees there but their trees have trees growing on them. Talk about your over-achievers. Apparently it’s not enough to have lush, green tropical foliage you’ve got to have foliage ON your foliage. Wonder if I could get a bunch of chickweed to grow up the side of one of our scraggly spruce trees?

13. Geriatrics R Us. Right along there with beaches, shiny cars and delicious citrus you can’t talk about Florida without mentioning the old folks. As my Mom would say, you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting one—though I wouldn’t recommend it because I bet that would make them rather crotchety and irritable. No one retires in Alaska. Why? Well you do the math: 20 below plus 4 feet of snow plus 80 years equals two broken hips. Florida, however, is just ripe with the elderly—I’d never seen so many old people in one place since Cocoon.

In fact, while driving through Naples we passed a lovely stuccoed building with pilasters and fancy landscaping and all the trimmings. I did a double take because you know what the sign read out front? Social Security Administration. HA! No wonder it’s so fancy, you should see what the AARP’s local headquarters look like. Maybe that’s why Florida is so warm, all those old people with their heat turned up high.

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