Of Mermaids And Micheladas

Silently, in the Breugger’s Bagels line, I prayed that they wouldn’t see right through me. The ones discussing their miles, upgrades, and loyalty to brands with names like Delta, American, and United. If they knew that I had snuck over to their concourse in search of sustenance superior to the sad and lonely Subway I’d passed in mine, the consequences could be dire. Perhaps I’d be barred from ever dining at the Concourse B Outback Steakhouse (making it the second location within the chain that I’m banned from). Thankfully, I was able to safely abscond with my onion & chive soaked bagel back to the Allegiant gates.

“Fuck ‘em,” I’d say if the flight boarded on time or wasn’t cancelled. “My route is direct while theirs probably goes through Atlanta, Charlotte, or Chicago.”

Yes, that’d be my mantra. One I could repeat while cruising through the skies, pinned into a tiny seat, and dreaming of the money I’d saved. Cold, hard, American cash as good as the gold doubloons once carried by the explorers who’d come before me, all of us enticed by the allurements of Florida.

One of the wizard gift shops as seen in a previous Florida adventure.

Orange World is one of many iconic attractions along US-192.

Via framed photographs, Sarah’s house reminded me of our previous Sunshine State adventure: a journey to the tourist traps of “one ninety two.” Before we could delve further out to the swamplands in search of more kitsch, however, there were immediate matters at hand. Three watering holes and several drinks later, we’d solved all of the world’s problems and celebrated with barroom bingo, as well as, tacos topped with macaroni-and-cheese.

You don’t need Disney or Universal Studios when you grew up with Paramount’s Kings Island.
*Photo by Sarah Harris.*

Florida gets a lot of grief and while some of it is certainly deserved, I really do enjoy the place. As an occasional visitor, however, the attractions I’m interested in skew more towards the ones not controlled by corporate movie studios. Which is how Sarah and I found ourselves on the road towards the state’s most popular tourist attraction. At least the one that had been before Walt Disney World opened fifty years ago.

Buccaneer Bay, the waterpark which utilizes the natural features of Florida’s Weeki Wachee Springs.

The theatre smelled of sunscreen and sweat. Anticipation loomed as the sounds of steel drums faded in the speakers and the lights dimmed. Television sets then treated us all to a Jimmy Buffett performance. Any of that man’s songs will immediately make my eyes roll in an aggressively annoyed fashion, but I did recognize that this was the tune where he mentions Cincinnati. A reminder that although my hometown is apparently where the term “parrothead” was coined, there weren’t enough diehard Buffett fans to keep either location of his two restaurant chains in business. But we hadn’t come here to lament the decline of “Margaritaville” or mourn the loss of “Cheeseburger in Paradise,” rather, we were in search of a cultural tradition that long predated Jimmy’s “island escapism” gimmick. After enduring the “Coral Reefer Band” and listening to Mr. Buffett’s speech about mermaids play out on the screens above us, the curtain rose and the mythical sea creatures appeared at center, underwater stage.

Newt Perry, a veteran of the U.S. Navy’s “frogman” program, had developed this attraction using experiences gained from his military service. Since 1947, the mermaid performances have taken place in the pristine waters of Weeki Wachee Springs. Here, guests are able to view the show via an aquarium like setting as performers use air hoses to remain underwater for extended periods of time. During our visit, the mermaids were performing their version of Hans Christian Andersen’s iconic fairytale, The Little Mermaid. Dressed as mythical creatures, the cast’s wardrobe allows them to swim right up to, but not over, the border of copyright infringement. If Mickey Mouse could stay underwater as long as these performers do, he’d notice that the music used is similar, but not the same as his 1989 animated film.

Mold-A-Matic souvenir machine at Weeki Wachee.

The crowd here couldn’t care less, though. As far as they’re concerned, this is just as good as any attraction at the Magic Kingdom. They eat it up, cheering loudly after each acrobatic maneuver and synchronized dance move. The praise is well deserved. This is no ordinary production and the process to become an official mermaid is both arduous and physically demanding. During an afternoon show on a weekday, the place is packed with an admiring audience.

Visitors enjoying the Weeki Wachee River, a natural landmark fed by the springs below.

Although the mermaids of Weeki Wachee Springs are an enduring example of Americana once frequented by the likes of Elvis Presley and Don Knotts, it was surprising to learn that such an attraction exists within a state park. Just steps away from the theatre, public employees offer brief river cruises that highlight the area’s natural environment and wildlife.

Surrounding environment of the Weeki Wachee River.

At some point, the springs came under the jurisdiction of the Florida Department of Environmental Protection which now oversees the underwater theatre, its adjoining waterpark, and the natural water features. These days, mermaids and park rangers work hand in hand (fin?) to showcase two of Florida’s strongest assets: its tourism industry and its natural beauty. It’s perhaps the most “Florida” of Florida destinations.

Back on the road, we drove into “Florida’s Tastiest Quarter Mile.” We’d actually started the day here with chicken and waffles, biscuits and gravy, and bourbon mimosas at a spot called The Florida Cracker. Now, we were back in the area for our next meal.

The Coney Island Drive-Inn has all the charm and outward appearance of a quintessential “root beer stand,” but touts an exclusive dish alongside traditional hot dog offerings. Pork can be found anywhere, but here in Brooksville, one can feast on the native wildlife. Slathered with “swamp relish” and mustard, the gator dog tastes like sausage and is surprisingly delicious.

I don’t remember what “Swamp Relish” is, but it’s good.

In addition to a cease and desist from the Subway sandwich chain asking Coney Island to stop using the term “footlong” (good on them for ignoring that), wall decorations showcased that—like the mermaid springs we had just visited—Elvis Presley had once been fond of this locale too.

Signs of “The King” were still popping up when we made our next stop: the St. Vincent DePaul thrift store in Clermont.

While I didn’t purchase the Elvis telephone, I did find a shirt that would be appropriate for one of the day’s upcoming destinations:

Stop number four took us 226 feet above central Florida:

Built in 1956, the Citrus Tower had been constructed as a place for visitors to overlook the area’s orange groves. The gift shop below provides a charming coffee shop with the tower’s observation deck serving as an extension of the seating area. If you don’t mind the heat and can settle for the overworked air conditioner, it’s a wonderful spot to spend some time in.

Children’s coloring activities in the tower’s ground level coffee shop.

Near the base of the tower, we’d arrived too late to tour through a replica White House known as the Presidents Hall of Fame. Not to be confused with Walt Disney World’s “Hall of Presidents” some 45 minutes or so away, this museum also features a replica of Mt. Rushmore.

The Presidents Hall of Fame’s Mt. Rushmore replica.

The Presidents Hall of Fame is also an excellent location for modeling your thrift store souvenirs while oblivious to the fact that the primetime January 6 Attack/Capitol Insurrection Hearings are airing at the same moment.

I would’ve realized the irony sooner, but the bar we went to next didn’t have any of its televisions tuned to Congress.

It was, however, advertising a very special beverage:

Despite being called a “tiki bar,” there were no piña coladas or margaritas to be found. Minneola is apparently lake country, not beach country.

So, when in Rome Minneola…

None of the staff seemed to know how or why this concoction came to feature such a prominent place on the menu and it wasn’t until the next day that we learned such a thing is known as a “michelada.” It certainly wasn’t the worst drink I’d ever had, but I haven’t really wanted to eat Spaghettios since I was a kid, let alone taste them in my beer. Still, few things in life beat sweating out tomato flavored alcohol while catching up with wonderful people as the sun sets on a beautiful lake.

Thank you to Sarah, Mallory, Marcus, Charlie, Kelly, Lilly, and Nick for a wonderful trip.

Since 2007, the content of this website (and its former life as Queen City Discovery) has been a huge labor of love.

If you’ve enjoyed stories like The Ghost Ship, abandoned amusement parks, the Cincinnati Subway, Fading Ads, or others over the years—might you consider showing some support for future projects?

Donate

Of Mermaids And Micheladas

Tigerfest

[Suburbia Lost] Black Castle