IT was the year 2022. And it was the VET. And all was well with the world.
No, not really.
It’s been a shitty year. Or a great one, depending on who you’re asking. Time passed strangely, and the VET came both quickly and after far too long. All of a sudden yet long overdue. I was ready for it, but I didn’t do a great job of preparing. But then again I guess the VET isn’t about preparing, or planning, or thinking, or making promises to yourself.
Unfortunately, I had spent the past year promising myself that this year would be different. This time, we would NOT go to Orlando. Come hell or high water. South, and east. That’s the plan. The plan for the VET. Of course, this would work a lot better if I were the one driving, which I was not. This year Corey got a brand new SPORT MODE VEHICLE. And I still have my old rotting VW VEHICLE. So he got to drive again.
About a week before the VET I actually started working on my playlists. And about three or four days before the VET, I realized this would be our 20th adventure of this kind. Shocking, always. I’ve lived more years during which I celebrated the VET than I have not celebrating. Two decades of traipsing around Florida. Which means more than once you’ll find yourself traipsing through Orlando. And more than once you’ll be retreading previous routes. Kind of like how on this VET we went up the same way we went in 2020 (“…isn’t that the gas station where we ate?”) and 2018 (“…that’s where the boat was”).
In the morning I showered and got KRUNK for the day. Nicole worked. And Basil wasn’t there. Eventually (like 10ish) Corey came by with Holly, who he left in Nicole’s care, and we set off. Immediately Corey dashed my plans of going south and east with what I can only assume were his own year-long-in-the-making plans: north and west. Bastard. Of course, at the end of the day, we both really only wanted to avoid going back to Orlando, and both of our plans could manage that. Yes, maybe we were foolish to plan at all. But it wouldn’t be the first time we had made that mistake.
We traveled via I275, then I75, to the SR 56 exit, looking for breakie food. The big deal of the day was that Corey was breaking his 7 year long keto diet for a cheat day, so we hoped to enjoy many a carb. We had discussed doing Cracker Barrel, but changed direction and followed our hearts instead.
I complimented Corey’s shoes and he told me that he’s set for life in this particular model. Which is kind of nice/bleak.
We found a nice place for breakie called Coffee Time (which we later learned had been renamed something dumb). We entered to find an extremely stressed out barista apologizing profusely multiple times to each customer she worked with. This stress level ended up dashing Corey’s plan to get a nice pastry, but old man Rusty wouldn’t be stopped from forcing her to make a shitty bagel for him. And a delicious cafe con leche!
While we waited for our covfefe, we started hashing out the details of our cool playlists and that lead our conversation to some crazy AI bullshit creating playlist cover art. Corey told me all about how he’s become a master manipulator of sight and sound (primarily sight) by way of incantation and monthly subscription. It’s pretty cool, but old man Rusty got a bit scared of how art will die (it won’t) and the robots will rise up (they will).
Eventually, we got tired of hanging out in that dump, and decided to split. We packed the fam up in the automobile and set off, going from 54 to 41 / 98. We made our way northward, discussing such funny things as AI and Young Hanks. It was so funny you had to have been there.
We stopped at a sweet ass station and picked up some cannies and drinkies and made peepee poopoo. I got some fucking gummi werms. And Corey got some other stuff. They were fine, but I dropped a werm on the floor and then I just kind of held it in my hand and fucked with it for another 50 miles or some shit.
Along the way we discussed our friends being cool people, my somewhat ill-fated Halloween party, and just generally how life is whatever it is some of the time. Somewhere here we realized we were just re-treading old ground, but that didn’t stop us from driving more. So we did. Drive. More.
We saw a sign for “Horseshoe Beach” and I was like “dude let’s do it” and Corey was like “okay” then we passed the turn and Corey was like “oh well.” Then we saw ANOTHER sign for “Horseshoe Beach” and I was like “oh we can still do it” and Corey was like “yes master” and then we turned. And it took like 45 minutes driving through Trashville USA to get there. Along the way we joked about zombies and the shitty places people lived and the like one factory thing out there. Eventually we saw another small sign for the beach, which had “dino damage” (I should have snagged a pic but I did not).
Nearing our destination, we passed a place called “Pizzaritaville“. It would have made a decent VET meal, except that they were closed (and it looks like they sucked). We drove down to the little park that made up the entirety of Horseshoe Beach, passing a Trumpy sign post. The park was essentially a handful of parking spots and a couple boat ramps. We got out and made the most of it, finally presenting me with an opportunity to throw away my funky werm.
We walked down the way, discussing Corey’s past as an excellent swimmer and present/future as a person who will never go on a boat. He seems 0 out of 1000 excited to own a boat. And also a motorcycle? Or motorcycle-powered boat? Something like that. There were some birds there and that was cool. Then I went to the unusual/unusable toilets and we left, not entirely enriched by the experience.
We eventually found our way back to 98, and, as is the case with any young man at a certain age, our minds turned to food. Discussing Corey’s wants/needs as a man on a cheat day (who had technically not yet broken cheat mode), and he said he would love 1.) a mashed potatoe; 2.) a Pizza; 3.) Chinese Food? Maybe not 3. But anyway these were just weird, creepy fantasies. As we drove and discovered that there weren’t any good places to eat anywhere because we were in the middle of fucking nowhere, we just kept driving. Finally, somehow, someway, the town of Perry presented itself as a viable option for food.
We drove into the town and passed a place called “Bloodworths”, which was pretty fucking weird. We parked, assuming Corey’s car would be towed within a few minutes, and made our way down the strip. What we found were largely abandoned storefronts, including a soul food cafe that had nothing inside. The only business that seemed to be booming was the Paranormal Investigators, of which there were two separate locations. Good for fucking them.
We entered the only place that caught our eyes beside BLOODWORTH, which was a Comics/Toys/Animes/VideoGames store. And what a store it was! We started out excited by the potential, and wiled away thirty or so minutes slogging through, shelf by shelf, desperately trying to find anything worth spending money on as a souvenir of the VET. Alas, we found nothing. I kind of regret not getting a Tim Curry “IT” figurine, which was weird, but it was like 3 inches tall and nearly 30 bucks. 10 dollars per inch?? Come on, what is this a male prostitute??! I’ll see myself out.
We left to shop, saddened. We gave the rest of the town a once over and learned that the only possible option was a brick oven pizzeria operating out of Bloodworth himself. As we made our way to it, we passed a VET memorial burning brightly for our ancestors, and then some kid in the backseat of a truck was like “HEY RUSTY” as they drove past. I don’t fucking know, man. He probably said something else. Like a slur or something.
The pizza place was small and cute. We approached the bench, and Corey threw me for a loop when he zigged instead of zagged by ordering an 18″ STROMBOLI instead of us just splitting a meat fucker’s pizza. 18 inches… at 10 dollars per inch?? No.
I followed suit by ordering my own 18″ stromboli, with pepperoni, sausage, meatballs, and olives. Also Corey ordered garlic knots and I ordered cheesy bwead. DON’T MIND IF I DO. And I got a soda, and they had that great pebble ice. Eventually, all the stuff came out super hot and super delicious. It turned out to be the best possible call, as the stromboli was doughy and chewy and perfect. Cheesy, saucy, meaty, amazing. Just fantastic. We were both blown away. The place was hopping (for Perry), and honestly it made sense that they were still in business. A job well done – the VET’s ultimate trick challenge is finding a good place to eat, and we somehow did it.
We left the Perry, fat and happy. Then it was onward, northward, towards our ultimate destination: Tallahassee. We listened to music playlists and enjoyed some phat, curated sounds. We passed a shitty video game shop that we attempted to go to, but it was already closed. So we resigned ourselves to just going to Tallahassee and finding some sweet. fucking. dessert.
We made the classy “capitol run”, then spent an hour or so navigating the labyrinth that is the city. We put on the Funky Grandma playlist that was never meant to see a real VET, drove around, met Bo Diddly (I think), and tried to find dessert. But we couldn’t, not with our eyes. We did pass a lot of cool looking places and like three separate colleges, which is neat. But when you’re jonesing some sweet delicious slimes like we were, you can’t just “luck” upon it – you gotta make your luck. Like we did. By consulting Yelp.
We found Sugar Rush Milkshake Bar. Corey parked us, and we walked down to find neon lights and a line of people. We got in, it took maybe 10 minutes to order, then another 45 minutes wait to get the goods. WORTH IT. I got a barf colored milkshake and Corey got a cookie pile ice cream, and it was really tasty. So sweet, so sinful. The sugar fluids got everywhere. Covered in sticky cream.
We stumbled back to the car, strapped in, and set off. We had one more stop before putting on our final playlists, picking up waters for the long trek home (it was like 10 PM and we would got home after 1 AM). The ride home was like many of VET past, a long, dark journey, fighting sleep, featuring jammy playlists punctuated by quiet conversation. It was familiar, it was good. Eventually, we pulled up to my house, Corey picked up Holly and relieved Nicole of her duty, and the VET came to a close.
It was not a particularly special VET, in fact it was pretty mild. The food we had was WELL above average, but the stops were few and far between. Not a lot of sights were seen. At one point, I asked Corey if he had done any driving around and exploring since moving to Largo, and he said that, outside of picking up food and whatnot, not much; that he doesn’t really get a lot out of that sort of thing unless it’s with someone (like on the VET). Maybe the magic of exploration fades as we get older. Maybe the two of us get different things out of it now. Or maybe we always have. This year wasn’t the most magical VET, but this VET was a good chance for us to hang out and just spend time together, which we haven’t done a lot of lately. And I think we both needed that.