What: Don't take it for granted
Where: Tampa Bay and beyond, from Palm Harbor to Plant City
Must-Do? Says Who? A sense of wonder about the everyday
Casualties: Few. More often than not, the best things are free
Mantra: Stop and smell the palm trees
The goal of this whole Tampanese blog endeavor has been to test out the local myths. Is Scott Kazmir the real deal? (Yes.) Is the Columbia Restaurant all it's cracked up to be? (No.) Are the Mons Venus ladies the most beautiful in the world? (Debatable.)
We've done this, to a certain extent, but our favorite discoveries haven't involved Tampa fixtures. They've been funny little byways, most of which don't open or close or require proof of age or any particular skill or, for that matter, clothes.
In fact, most of 'em are straight-up free.
Here's a few.
Sunset
Whether you're on the Gulf, in the Gulf or just sitting on Gulf Boulevard, you live in a damn fine place to watch the sun go down. Mix a canteen of rum punch (be generous with the lime slices) and head on down to Pass-A-Grille or up to Clearwater. The roof of the Hurricane Restaurant has a spectacular view, though sometimes it's nice to be selfish and not share the sunset with friendly-but-anonymous bargoers. And if you're here year-round, that only means more chances to catch the mysterious "Green Flash," which we've kept vigil for but never found. Is it real? Did Paul Wolfowitz once make out with Joe Redner? We don't know the answer to either, but they are certainly questions worth probing.
Sunrise
Same deal, only this one happens over the bay (and the rum punch isn't for everyone during those liminal hours 'twixt night and day). Bayshore's a good spot, especially if you're in the mood for decent coffee and good eggs at Pach's afterwards. Bayshore's early morning jogger-biker-blader trichotomy lends a charming energy to the moment, and if you stay in one spot, you can count on them for hilarious drive-by conversation snippets. ("It was this beige thing!" she exclaimed, panting.) Also, the water looks pretty.
Bridges
If you have to commute, and you can't do it by foot or boat or hot air balloon, give us the causeways any day of the week. Howard Frankland, Courtney Campbell, Gandy Bridge, the Sunshine Skyway — to a newcomer, these quotidian drives are a special occasion. Even if your brain farts and you miss that last exit, relish those two unnecessary trips over the causeway. You're paying for the gas, so you might as well blast your favorite tune or talk show or book-on-tape and enjoy it as a soundtrack for the scenery, however "developed" it may be. Buy the ticket, take the ride.
Rainbows
We can't vouch for the pot of gold, nor the leprechaun (although we have our suspicions), but summertime is the rainy season, and Tampa plays host to some of the most impressive refracted circumhorizontal arcs whose acquaintance it has been our pleasure to make. Did you know that the same rainbow can't be seen by two people at once? Talk about making a place your own. And be on the lookout, because occasionally they appear in pairs — make that a double.
Midnight Swims in the Gulf
"But what about hotel security? And stingrays? Not to mention jellyfish … and I hear there are sharks. Lots and lots of sharks. Christ! What are you guys thinking?"
It's all true. But we couldn't care less. Some of the most exhilarating, revelatory and peaceful moments of our summer have been in the balmy waters of the Gulf between the hours of 12 and 3 in the morning. Do the stingray shuffle, to be sure, but don't allow dense pockets of man-eating marine life distract you from the bliss of the moment. Your serotonin receptors will thank you.
Lightning
When the East Coast winds meet the Gulf Coast winds, it's a wild party — a few drinks, some names exchanged and forgotten, and soon the sparks fly. Tampa lightning moves in excess of 100,000 miles per hour (faster than you can say "Ronda Storms is despicable, but I'll refrain from making misogynistic comments about her because I'm a gentleman") and reaches temperatures of 50,000 degrees Fahrenheit. A lightning storm dramatizes an otherwise mundane situation, dazzles the senses and sends little electrical currents up and down the spine. Don't grumble. Enjoy the fireworks.
This article appears in Aug 22-28, 2007.