Mexico Beach

Jul 23 2003
I just returned from a much needed, but far too brief, beach vacation in Mexico Beach which is no where near Mexico as the name seems to imply but on Florida’s panhandle, the forgotten (redneck) coast. My grandparents bought several weeks at a timeshare a few years ago intending to give “the kids” a week each. When my aunt Maria offered me a portion of their week, I have to admit I was a little skeptical about driving six hours to spend my hard earned vacation in a place that came with warnings of its not being “exactly 5 star.” But, I needed a vacation and the words “very quiet” kept surfacing in everyone’s description of the place. I took a chance and much to my surprise the condo was surprisingly nice. The back deck was less than 100 yards from the water and overlooked beautiful sea-coated sand dunes. The air conditioner kept a little frost around each of the windows and made it difficult to leave the sofa which overlooked the beach through sliding glass doors. The roomy back deck was equipped with the required charcoal grill and sufficient hand rails to support a perspiring bottle of import beer and many of his empty predecessors without any crowding. I divided my time evenly between playing in the surf with Trey, reading The Idea Factory and The Computer and The Brain on the back deck, and trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. At night, we took the camera out onto the beach and tried desperately to get some crabs to sit still for a picture. Steph held the flashlight, Trey was in charge of herding and misdirection and I crawled on my hands and knees trying to get close enough for macro shots. Next year, I will definitely be a little less hesitant about wandering down into redneck country for a quiet beach vacation. I had a great time, and I really don’t even like the beach.