Ever since I came to this new, unfamiliar place, I have devoted many thoughts to my old haunts (meaning places I like to be). If I had to pick just one to spend the rest of my life, it would be the northern Gulf Coast (known in many circles as the "Redneck Riviera"). I love the beach. I love the gritty feel of the soft quartz sand between my toes. I love the tang of the salty air and the sound of breakers hitting the shore. I love the way the trees lean inward from being blown by hurricane-force winds. The one thing I would change is progress. I would get rid of all the high rise condos. The beach is no place for sky scrapers. I would remove the "upscale" planned communities (they are just too perfect) and put back the cheap motels and cinder-block cottages. I would put back the dunes knocked down by hurricanes and developers. I would insist that Gulf states protect their beaches from pollution. I would keep the fishing piers. I love to visit them late at night when the serious fishermen are angling. I have gotten some great tips for catching red fish and blue crabs and met some real characters.
No beach visit is complete without lots of fresh Gulf seafood. Those characters on the piers have steered me toward the best hole-in-the-wall dives on the coast. When checking out a seafood joint, take a look at the tables. There should be a roll of paper towels, bottles of ketchup, Tabasco, Lea and Perrin's Worchestershire, and a jar of horseradish. For the unitiated, this is for making your own seafood sauce. There are good places that provide it ready-made, but not many. It helps if the furniture is mismatched. If the wait staff is wearing cutesy little outfits and start off by saying, "Hi, my name is Brittany and I'll be your server this evening", get up and leave. You have entered the "tourist trap zone". You want the kind of place where you have to specify you want Dr. Pepper or other non-alcoholic drink when the gum-smacking waitress asks what kind of beer you want. There should be a jukebox that only plays twangy country and Jimmy Buffet. Okay--maybe the Allman Brothers and Lynard Skynard, too. After all, ambience is everything! After your meal, you should be so full, you have no room left for dessert. Some may feel the need to visit a honky tonk afterward, but me, I just want a walk on the beach, and then to sit on my balcony until midnight. If I'm lucky, there will be thunderstorm several miles off shore, with "heat lightening", some of mother nature's most colorful pyrotechnics--better than fireworks! Can you think of a better ending to a perfect day? Or a better way to end this little essay? Neither can I. Yours, Fannie Ryan