Family gets 'burned' in Florida

There's nothing like a summer vacation to Florida to make you appreciate sun blockers and a decent cloud cover.

Of course, all the creams in the world won't keep diehard tourists from getting burned.

You can tell the tourists from the residents this time of year. The tourists are the ones getting burned and proud of it.

But then what's the point of vacating in Florida if you don't come back from the beach with a sun tan or at least some red skin.

Joni and I just returned from a two-week vacation to the Sunshine State with our two children, our nephew and Joni's mom.

Six people in a mini van. Twelve hundred miles. One television set. Three earphones for the kids to listen to DVDs. One of the earphones worked only partially.

Still, the TV was a big hit. Strapped into the car with a bundle of bungee cords, it helped the kids pass the time and allowed us to make the trip without professional counseling.

Getting through Georgia is a journey in itself. Besides growing peanuts, the state seems little more than a rest-and-gas-up stop for all the tourists traveling to and from Florida.

Our family vacation landed us in Palm Beach County. The biggest tourist attractions there are the numerous beaches and the ocean waves. But eyeing the homes and condominiums of the wealthy rates right up there too.

We live far more simply, in Joni's mother's summer home -- a mobile home in a retirement park just a few minutes walk from a beach, a fishing pier and a supermarket.

It's as close as you can get to the high-priced real estate without a big checkbook.

Although it has obvious tourist advantages, Palm Beach County does have a few problems. Heading the list is the fact that its voters are ballot challenged. While we were there, a county resident made news by filing a lawsuit in which he claimed that the ballots discriminate against short people. The sheriff came under fire for buying an armored personnel carrier, no doubt to fend off all those pesky tourists.

Elsewhere in the Sunshine State, the University of Florida came under fire for putting out a football media guide that displayed a crocodile on the cover rather than an alligator, the school's mascot. Fortunately, we managed to get through our vacation without getting anywhere near an alligator.

On the trip home, we learned not to trust our gas gauge. We ran out of gas and had to call AAA for assistance. The unexpected rest stop gave Joni's mom a chance to show the kids how to make and toot grass whistles courtesy of some good Florida grass -- the legal kind.

We also stopped at a Florida rest stop where we were greeted with an official sign warning us we might run into poisonous snakes.

But no one seemed terribly concerned about the sign. We were just happy to escape from the van for a few precious minutes.

Joni's mom even photographed our nephew standing in front of the sign, just another quirky souvenir for our summer vacation.

We brought back more than snapshots and sun tans. We returned with a ton of sand and sea shells we picked up on the beach. The shells were packed intentionally. The sand tagged along without an invitation.

Mark Bliss is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.