ALRIGHTY, NOW WE ARE BACK IN THE “BIKINI BELT” OF FLORIDA, THAT BEING FORT LAUDERDALE.
The next day we needed to get back to Miami, to catch an early flight the next morning.
Miami - Toronto - Edmonton.
As it was morning, we were not in a rush to get there. So the two of us dropped by the Inverrary Golf Club in Fort Lauderdale, and headed directly to the pro shop.
We intended to take one last look at Jackie Gleason’s elaborate Rolls Royce golf cart.
I peeked in, noticed the 40 oz bottle of Crown Royal was empty and the 16 oz tumbler was gone.
The assistant golf pro told us that Jackie liked to golf at night, and pointed out the high lamp posts adjacent to the fairways.
Well go figure that? You might consider calling it an 18 hole, 40oz night cap.
On our way south to Miami we made frequent stops at one antique shop and another, a pawn broker and then a flea market. At all of these stops, there was nothing of significance in relation to postcards or covers.
In the late afternoon, my buddy who was driving the rental car stopped for a bite to eat.
A quick snack let’s say.
Another Big Mac for me, and of course from “grass fed” beef.
But, as June Carter would say, “times a wastin”.
We had lost track of time, and dusk was upon us.
So we found a gas station, gassed up and headed to Miami.
Now, we were well prepared as I had a road map, a small flash light, a full tank of fuel and a driver.
We looked for the interstate highway, which was the the quickest and safest route to Miami.
As we continued on, we started to feel like we were not on the same interstate that we had taken to get to Fort Lauderdale.
One red light, a yield sign and then a crosswalk, and now it was totally dark.
Soon the question posed to me, the navigator was, “where the hell are we?”
“I have no idea", I replied.
"Well, look at the map!”
Now, common sense would tell you that is the right approach.
So I fumbled and stumbled, found the small flashlight and proceeded to look for the road map.
I looked, and then looked again.
So my buddy calls out again, “where the hell are we?"
Well at that particular moment I really did not know, but I said, “if we keep on this road I think it will take us to Miami”.
You think? You think? You don’t know?
At that moment I felt that mine and buddy's friendship had plummeted, as fast as raging water over Niagara Falls.
WE WERE LOST AT, AND AT WHAT COST?
ANYBODY WANT TO BUY SOME POSTCARDS OR POSTAL HISTORY?
The two of us had steered both of our brilliant minds to the wrong place at the wrong time, if you know what I mean?
To ask for directions was not a good idea, as a recent double homicide had occurred the previous day.
A couple of lost tourists who had asked the wrong questions, ended up in body bags.
That really was not our idea of a great vacation, or the end of a buying trip for those elusive postcards.
This definitely WAS NOT a tourist STOP, and at no time did I observe a WELCOME sign anywhere.
Gun control was definitely not a priority in Miami.
If you didn’t have one, you were in the minority.
It was damn scary being in the minority.
At one red light where we stopped, I was sure that by the time the light turned green the tires and rims would be gone.
At another red light we ensured traffic was safe at the intersection, and ran the red for safety reasons.
And you know what?
The both of us were not exactly sure, if the joyful ride let’s call it the “the forbidden path”, was headed directly to Miami.
Finally, close to midnight, we came upon familiar signage close to the motel we stayed at the first night upon arrival.
Safe to the mind and body thence, but a long, long flight the next day to Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.
At that time I did not like to fly, period.
During the flight I mentioned to my friend, that I had enough of flying for the day.
As a result I was giving serious thought to ask the pilot to just “drop me off”, when the aircraft was in flight over Winnipeg, Manitoba.
No such luck.
The pilot indicated Winnipeg was not an option. Apparently the parachutes hadn’t been used in years.
Skidding to a stop at Edmonton International, then outside to the parkade. A step on white snow or yellow snow it didn’t matter feet on the ground.
Quite An Adventure.