#I fled to fort lauderdale so i’m okay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mnranger5 · 4 years

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Rewind: Alissa & Jeff’s Wedding and Florida Keys Road Trip, 2/6/14 – 2/14/14

When Alissa announced she was getting married in the Florida Keys, it was a no-brainer that Dyan and I would be flying down for the wedding. The only difficult decision to be made was how long we wanted to extend the vacation. How about 9 days, Dyan? Her response, “YES!” We intended to spend some time in Ft. Lauderdale, Miami and various islands in the Florida Keys. With a lot of pavement and sunshine between our stops, we’d need a cool car! And this one came at a price, but I’m not talking about the cost. This was Dyan’s first glimpse into my obsession with having unique cars on road trips!

Mustang convertibles in south Florida come at a premium, and the going rate for a 9 day rental was over $1,000. No way I was paying that! I recall the economy cars running $300-$400 for the full week, so I’d probably have to settle for a Nissan Altima or similar. I scoured the deepest nooks and crannies of the internet in search of a good deal for a convertible sports car but was coming up empty. One evening, I logged into work and had an email for discount Globetrotter tickets. The link took me to the Blue Cross intranet page in our old operating system, Lotus Notes. I read every discount on the company page. Some were for deals dating back to the early 2000’s. I ended up finding a Budget Rental Car promo code for Blue Cross Blue Shield employees that was published several years earlier. Being that the page was so old, and most of the other discounts were very out of date, I didn’t have much hope of the promo code working. However, I’d very quickly find out this was the greatest promo code in the history of promo codes… I popped open my browser and plugged in all the details of our trip on the Budget website. I entered the promo code. What happened next blew my mind. First, the economy cars popped up and rates were significantly less, like $7/day. Jackpot. I scrolled down passing the intermediate cars, SUV’s of all sizes, mini vans and trucks – desperately looking for the convertible category. And then I saw it, the “Mustang Convertible or similar” class. Rate, $225. Total. I double checked the dates, thinking I’d only queried up a 2 day rental. Nope. I had it all right. Dates, times and locations were exactly what we were looking for. I added my credit card number. The car was reserved and pre-paid! This was gonna be an epic road trip!

Our flight into FLL took us out over the Atlantic Ocean before swinging back over the coast to land. I don’t remember the flight, so it must have been smooth sailing! Once we touched down, first stop was Budget Rental Car. When we approached the counter, I was so excited about the car. By this point, I had told Dyan every detail there was to know about a Mustang convertible – at least three times. But, because Dyan and I had not been dating for very long, I had failed to mention how great the deal was. I didn’t want her to think I was super cheap after all! I gave the rental agent our reservation information, and she started typing into her computer terminal for a lengthy amount of time. At one point, she looked up at me and stated something along the lines of how great of a deal I had found. I remember just smiling, as to not tip Dyan off that I had just saved nearly $800 off the regular price. She continued typing and even consulted with her manager a couple of times before flatly indicating, “we don’t have any convertibles left.” I pleaded with her for a few minutes indicating that I had pre-paid for the convertible, and didn’t comprehend how they did not have a car that was already paid for. She consulted more with her manager who indicated there was nothing they could do. Their hands were tied because they had no convertibles left. No Mustangs, no Camaros and no Sebrings. They were happy to upgrade us to a full size sedan at no charge. I didn’t want a full size sedan, and the fact they call a full size sedan an upgrade from a convertible Mustang is preposterous. I asked that they check with their rental partners, Avis and Payless to see if they had any convertibles. They scampered off to talk to their affiliates. While they were away from the counter, I overheard a different rental agent offering an convertible upgrade to another customer for a premium. Ah-ha, hey were trying to pull a fast one on me! It was now approaching an hour we had been at the rental counter. Dyan was standing by patiently, but probably bored out of her mind! But now was the time to dig in. This was getting ridiculous.

When the agent and manager returned, they informed me no convertibles were available with their affiliates. Then I dropped the bomb on them. I told them I overheard another agent offer a convertible as an upgrade, which sent them into damage control mode. They both began working over the computer terminal frantically, stuttering over their words. They finally landed on an excuse they could both agree on - they must have just gotten one in stock that didn’t show up in the system previously. They once again disappeared to the back office to see if it was still available. When they returned, they indicated it was good news. They found a convertible, and it was a Chrysler Sebring. I once again told them to try again because if my neighbor was getting offered a Mustang convertible (which he elected not to rent), that same car should be available for me. They knew i was not going to leave there without the Mustang or Camaro. The manager again fled to the office. We waited longer. The manager returned several minutes later indicating they had a Mustang or Camaro convertible for us. After 30 minutes of paperwork, we were finally off to the garage. And this is the part that really got me fuming. As we walked out into the garage, there were multiple rows of convertible Mustangs and Camaros – there must have been at least 20 in the two rows in front of us.

Why would they make us wait two hours if they had this many sports cars sitting in the lot? Had I gone with the sedan “upgrade” they were trying to pawn off on me, did they honestly think I wasn’t going to see the muscle car heaven they had parked inside the garage? Come on! I was at a complete loss for words – that’s about as poorly as I have ever been treated as a customer buying any product or service. [After returning from the trip, I had a conversation with a college buddy who was a manager at my local Hertz dealer. I told him about the deal I found (which he could not believe) and he indicated that convertibles in south Florida have such a huge upgrade premium that they didn’t want me walking out the door with a convertible for 8 days @ $225 when they could upsell it to some rich-schmuck on vacation for maybe $1,500-$2,000 for the same time period]

Now we could finally start our vacation! First up, check into the Westin Fort Lauderdale Beach Resort. Such a gorgeous property, right on the ocean.

They upgraded us to a junior corner suite with a partial ocean view, and a full view of the intercostal waterway and downtown Miami.

We didn’t have too much sunlight left, so we walked on the beach scoping out a dinner spot for the evening. And once we saw LuLu’s Bait Shack, our decision was made. We loved this bar from the moment we walked in. We were looking for a fun party bar right on the beach to have a few drinks and see where the night would take us. This is EXACLY what we had in mind. This bar is basically like a drunk fisherman crashed on FL Beach and wondered what to do next? Sell his fresh seafood, check. Make frozen tropical drinks, check. Relax on an outdoor patio, check. More drinks, ice cold beer, check. "To go" cups for heading over to the beach, check. Live music to entice the folks on the beach to come join the party, check. LuLu’s is a tropic hut nestled on the upper level of a shopping complex directly across from the ocean. Its views are spectacular. It has very few walls so the ocean air fills the place up. The ambiance is upbeat and very "vacationy". Their claim to fame is a $2 tap beer which I ordered and delicious frozen concoctions like the Miami Vice (half strawberry daiquiri/half pina colada) which we both ordered as well. They have a huge wall of premixed frozen beverages in every color of the rainbow. Not overly strong, but delicious nonetheless. We also had the crawfish broil (seasonal). They indicated they fly the crawfish in fresh every few days. We had never had crawfish and were feeling adventurous so we took the plunge. When it came out, it was served on a HUGE platter and we were thinking no way we would eat it all. However, if you have never had crawfish, you only get a tiny bite off meat off each crawfish. It was okay, but not filling. After a couple more drinks, we found ourselves laughing about what we should order for dinner!

We spent the next two days soaking up the sun at Fort Lauderdale Beach, Hollywood Beach and South Beach (Miami). All three beaches had completely different vibes, and Fort Lauderdale Beach was definitely our favorite.

It was a younger, more touristy crowd. Hollywood Beach was a much older crowd – seemed like a retirement community full of orange skinned locals. South Beach was not what I had expected. It wasn’t nearly as busy as I had imagined, and had a very diverse group of people. There was a major homeless problem and I guess I never really felt comfortable with the crowd. We didn’t stray too far from our beach bag/valuables. One of the best things about South Beach was Carabba’s Italian Grill, located on the beach. Although we didn’t know it at the time, this is a chain restaurant all over the county, and they served up some delicious frozen Miami Vices and the best calamari we had ever tasted. As of 2019, this restaurant is no longer in business at South Beach.

Day 4 marked the beginning of our road trip through the Florida Keys. This was one of our favorite aspects of the trip. Sunshine, 80’s, a convertible and island after island ready to be explored. The goal of the day was to crash as many resorts as we possibly could in a single day. And by crash, I mean gain access to the pool and amenities even though we were not registered guests! Throughout the day, we ended up crashing three resorts.

The first island along Highway 1 is Key Largo. This was home of our first attempted crash – Key Largo Bay Marriott Beach Resort. This was our least favorite of the three resorts we crashed. While the pool was absolutely wonderful, the resort grounds seemed very cramped. The hotel structure blocked the sun from a significant portion of the pool, so all the guest crammed into the tiny part of the pool deck that did have sunshine.

A few islands down Hwy 1 is Islamorada, one of the more bustling islands in the Keys. At the very end of the island is a party resort like none other. The Postcard Inn. Our main reason for stopping here wasn’t the resort – we actually didn’t even realize it was a resort at first. What made us stop was the original TiKi Bar situated right on the water. It was lunch time, so we ordered their specialty drink, a Key Lime Colada. It is the most amazing frozen cocktail I have ever had. We ordered seconds, along with a Florida Key delicacy, conch fritters. Everything here was simply amazing. The drinks, the appetizer and the environment. We spent at least an hour lounging in the pool and sipping tropical delights before it was time to head south.

About three islands down the highway is Duck Key and there is no doubt about it, we saved the best for last. Duck Key has one large resort called Hawks Cay. Complete with multiple pools, dolphin aquatic center, a real lagoon, restaurants, bars, and every other amenity of a 5 star resort. We spent a few hours at the pool and lagoon, and also sipping Key Lime Coladas. Their version goes like this: Bacardi superior rum, cream of coconut, fresh pineapple & pineapple juice, touch of keke beach key lime liquor. The drinks, setting and weather equaled perfection. This was by far our favorite resort on the trip.

We continued south to 1 Sandpiper Lane, Marathon Key, our home away from home for the week. This is where Alissa and Jeff rented a magnificent oceanfront estate home that had a front row seat to every sunrise. The home was gorgeous, and perfect for large family gatherings. It has 7 bedrooms, two enormous family rooms, a huge kitchen, pool and outdoor tiki hut.

We spent the next few days day-tripping out of Marathon. We took the family back to Duck Key to spend the afternoon around the pool, and got some much needed fishing gear at World Wide Sportsman in Islamorada. One of the bigger excursions we had was with Sweet E’Nuf Charters – a deep sea fishing experience.

While Captain Dave did put us on some fish, his mood was quite poor and really didn’t do much to keep his customers comfortable. We were chasing sail fish in very heavy seas, about 10 miles offshore. Some of the family handled the rough seas better than others, and Captain Dave couldn’t have cared less about those not feeling well. In addition, most of us had never been deep sea fishing before, so there was a learning curve that needed to be overcome. Captain Dave expected everybody to know exactly what they were doing. He cursed at a few people for snags, missed fish and improper technique. We probably just got him on a bad day, but he was all around a bear to be in the boat with. While we didn’t get any sail fish, we did come away with a mess of mutton snapper, which would serve as dinner!

And speaking of dinners, we pigged out on the freshest seafood the entire trip. Some of our favorite restaurants were Sunset Grill & Raw Bar, Marathon (Oyster’s Rockafeller – Dyan & Dad) and Castaways, Marathon ( sautéed alligator bites, shrimp). Some of the other places we ate at were Red Fish Blue Fish, Key West, Roof Top Café (Key West) and Tonio’s Seafood Shack & Tiki Bar.

On one of the days, Dyan and and I drove down to Key West to spend the day with Dyan’s Aunt and Uncle, Dion and Brad. We loaded up their Boston Whaler and set out on the Atlantic Ocean. We virtually circled Key West before heading out to Boca Grande Key. Boca Grande Key is about as south as you can get in the Florida Keys. The island is pristine and uninhabited, serving as a wildlife sanctuary. We anchored the boat and swam up to the beach. There were crabs everywhere in the water! Our tour guides brought food and drinks, and we chilled on the island for a couple of hours. It was lovely! On our way back the Key West, we noticed dolphins flanking the boat.

Brad slowed the boat down so we could see the beautiful creatures. He then asked if we wanted to swim with them. At first I was hesitant. I mean, they seem like docile creatures when they are in captive spaces, but who knows what these things were like in the wild! Before I could even speak, Dyan was already jumping in the water. Well, I guess I have to go now! I jumped in right behind her.

The two dolphins swam all around us, and underneath us brushing right up against our legs. I was kind of frozen in the water. In hindsight, I wish I would have reached out to touch them, but I guess I was really preoccupied with how these animals actually acted in the wild. Dyan swam with them for about 10 minutes while I more or less just treaded water wondering how long it would be before one of these dolphins got hungry for a foot, calf, thigh or worse.

We finished up the evening with a sunset cruise back to their house.

The night before the wedding, Alissa and Jeff booked a party bus that drove us down to Key West for the evening. That I can recall, there were many frozen drinks consumed as we shopped, had dinner and caught the sunset.

And then came Alissa’s Big Day! She and Jeff got married at an intimate gathering of family at the Sandpiper House, right in front of the ocean.

It had been really hot earlier in the week, but on her big day, the weather chilled out a bit and the slight breeze off the ocean made for perfect conditions.

It was the perfect way to end a glorious week in Florida.

The following day was Valentine’s Day, our final day in Florida. We checked out of the house that morning, and slowly made our way north through the Keys. We made a few stops for shopping and a fresh fruit snack (fresh pineapple!) as we approached the mainland.

For this day, it was the ONLY day we did not have a hotel booked for the night. When planning the trip, I just assumed we would stay near the airport because we had to return the car that evening and take a shuttle to the airport for an early morning flight the following day. But, one thing I didn’t take into account is that it was Valentine’s Day, and hotels in south Florida on this night are VERY difficult to come by. We called at least a dozen hotels, but all were full for the night. I literally thought we’d be renting the convertible an extra day and staying the night at a rest stop. With Dyan working in the hotel industry in a former life, she told me there was a chance some of the hotels near the airport save rooms for walk-ins that they do not offer over the phone. So it might be worth a shot to try a couple of the airport hotels. One of the hotels we called was the Sheraton Dania Beach (now known as Le Meriden Dania Beach). It was situated right on the southwest corner of the Fort Lauderdale International Airport. We pulled in around 6PM, and went straight to the front desk. We talked directly to the same woman who answered the phone when we called. We asked about availability for the night, and she immediately indicated they had space for us. I recall wanting to argue with her about the change in vacancy status, but chose not to. The room, was $400/night. I must have had “Sucker” tattooed to my forehead that room was sold the minute she said she had availability. We ended up eating dinner in the hotel restaurant, which had a special Valentines menu consisting of some kind of surf and turf. At $79/person, it was the only thing on the menu. But hey, it came with a free glass of wine! All that money I thought I saved on the Mustang, ended up being spent on hotel and dinner on the final night! The lesson learned: Don’t plan Valentine’s Day last minute!

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newstfionline · 6 years

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What happens to children who survive school shootings in America?

By John Woodrow Cox and Steven Rich, Washington Post, March 21, 2018

Thirteen at Columbine. Twenty-six at Sandy Hook. Seventeen at Marjory Stoneman Douglas.

Over the past two decades, a handful of massacres that have come to define school shootings in this country are almost always remembered for the students and educators slain. Death tolls are repeated so often that the numbers and places become permanently linked.

What those figures fail to capture, though, is the collateral damage of this uniquely American crisis. Beginning with Columbine in 1999, more than 187,000 students attending at least 193 primary or secondary schools have experienced a shooting on campus during school hours, according to a year-long Washington Post analysis. This means that the number of children who have been shaken by gunfire in the places they go to learn exceeds the population of Eugene, Ore., or Fort Lauderdale, Fla.

Many are never the same.

School shootings remain extremely rare, representing a tiny fraction of the gun violence epidemic that, on average, leaves a child bleeding or dead every hour in the United States. While few of those incidents happen on campuses, the ones that do have spread fear across the country, changing the culture of education and how kids grow up.

Every day, threats send classrooms into lockdowns that can frighten students, even when they turn out to be false alarms. Thousands of schools conduct active-shooter drills in which kids as young as 4 hide in darkened closets and bathrooms from imaginary murderers.

“It’s no longer the default that going to school is going to make you feel safe,” said Bruce D. Perry, a psychiatrist and one of the country’s leading experts on childhood trauma. “Even kids who come from middle-class and upper-middle-class communities literally don’t feel safe in schools.”

Samantha Haviland understands the waves of fear created by the attacks as well as anyone.

At 16, she survived the carnage at Columbine High, a seminal moment in the evolution of modern school shootings. Now 35, she is the director of counseling for Denver’s public school system and has spent almost her entire professional life treating traumatized kids. Yet, she’s never fully escaped the effects of what happened to her on that morning in Littleton, Colo. The nightmares, always of being chased, lingered for years. Even now, the images of children walking out of schools with their hands up is too much for her to bear.

On Saturday, some of Haviland’s students, born in the years after Columbine, will participate in the Denver “March For Our Lives” to protest school gun violence. In Washington, students from Parkland, Fla.--still grieving the friends and classmates they lost last month--will lead a rally of as many as 500,000 people in the nation’s capital.

“They were born and raised in a society where mass shootings are a thing,” she said, recalling how much her community and schoolmates blamed themselves for the inexplicable attack by Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. “These students are saying, ‘No, no--these things are happening because you all can’t figure it out.’ They’re angry, and I think that anger is appropriate. And I hope they don’t let us get away with it.”

In analyzing school shootings, The Post found an average of 10 school shootings per year since Columbine, with a low of five in 2002 and a high of 15 in 2014. Less than three months into 2018, there have been 11 shootings, already making this year among the worst on record.

At least 129 kids, educators, staff and family members have been killed in assaults during school hours, and another 255 have been injured.

Schools in at least 36 states and the District have experienced a shooting, according to The Post’s count. They happen in big cities and small towns, in affluent suburbs and rural communities. The precise circumstances in each incident differed, but what all of them had in common was the profound damage they left behind.

Javon Davies, a sixth-grader at a Birmingham middle school, came home and told his mom, Mariama, that he and his classmates had spent the day in lockdown.

Javon, who is 12, had heard about Parkland. He and a friend suspected that they, too, might die at their school, so each of the boys wrote a will.

“Mom,” the other sixth-grader wrote in print letters, “I want to give my friend Javon every thing that I own that includes the xbox and games and controllers and all that comes with it.”

In Javon’s instructions, he listed his PlayStation 4, his Xbox 360 and his dirt bike.

“I love you my whole Family you mean the most to me,” he wrote. “You gave me the clothes on my back, you fed me, and you were always by my side.”

On the morning of May 15, 2017, Gage Meche, then 7, walked into his first-grade class and hung up his blue Nike backpack, then turned around. On the floor in front of him was a gun. It had just fallen out of another boy’s bag, and when a girl Gage had known since they were toddlers picked it up, the pistol fired, discharging a .380 round that blew through his stomach, tearing into his intestines and nicking a vena cava vein, which carries blood to the heart.

The boy who’d brought the gun had found it at home, investigators say. His father, Michael Dugas, had given the weapon to his older son, who was 17. The teenager kept it in his room, loaded, unlocked and inside a bag that hung on the wall.

Soon after the shooting, Dugas was charged with two misdemeanors, eventually receiving six months in prison for his negligence.

Gage, meanwhile, endured four surgeries then had to learn to walk and eat again. Now 8, his 40-pound body hurts almost all the time, said his mother, Krista LeBleu.

The girl who accidentally shot him still struggles with guilt and post-traumatic stress. At a church camp last summer, a water-pistol fight broke out, and when she saw the plastic guns, the girl began to weep.

Gage has changed, too, his mother said. He had been so excited to flip the coin before a local football game a few months ago, but when the team rushed onto the field, someone fired a cannon. The boy’s knees buckled, and he collapsed to the grass, trembling as he curled into a ball. He still has nightmares, but he tells his parents they’re too scary to talk about. Gage is also more aggressive than before, sometimes erupting for no reason. Afterward, he can’t explain what happened.

“I don’t know why I’m so bad,” he says.

What remains for school shooting survivors? Grief, guilt and fear.

One day in 2008, Samantha Haviland sat on the floor of a school library’s back room, the lights off, the door locked. Crouched all around her were teenagers, pretending that someone with a gun was trying to murder them.

No one there knew that Haviland, then a counselor in her mid-20s, had been at Columbine nine years earlier. On that day, April 20, 1999, she had been in the cafeteria, selling chips and soda from a food cart to raise money for the golf team. Haviland, always an overachiever, had taken second place at a tournament the day before and felt so good about it that she’d worn a blue dress and high-heeled clogs to school. As hundreds of kids ate their lunches, she and three friends talked about prom, which they’d gone to the previous weekend.

Then two girls burst into the room. Someone had been shot, they screamed. Someone had a gun.

Haviland froze, but her friends grabbed her, and they fled into the back of an auditorium. Moments later, she heard four or five shots and an explosion. Everyone sprinted out as Haviland briefly paused to take off her shoes. Barefoot, she ran after them and into the hallway, and just as she reached one door, it closed in front of her. A teacher in another part of the building had pulled the fire alarm and, as she would later learn, it saved her life, because down that corridor, Harris and Klebold were slaughtering anyone they could find.

Afterward, as the shock and grief solidified her plan to become a counselor, Haviland didn’t get counseling herself. She didn’t deserve it, she thought, not when classmates had died or been maimed. Many others had suffered far more, Haviland decided. She would be okay.

But now there she was, a decade later, sitting in the darkness, practicing once again to escape what so many of her friends did not. Then she heard footsteps. Then, beneath the door, she saw the shadow of an administrator who was checking the locks. Then her chest began to throb, and her body began to quake and, suddenly, Haviland knew she wouldn’t be okay.

Researchers who study trauma still aren’t certain why people who experience it as children react in such different ways. For some, it doesn’t surface for years, making the effects harder to trace back to their origin. For others, the torment overwhelms them from the start and, in many cases, never lets go.

Karson Robinson was 6 when a teenager opened fire on the playground of his elementary school in Townville, S.C., on Sept. 28, 2016. Three days later, on his seventh birthday, he learned that his beloved friend, Jacob Hall, hadn’t survived the bullet that hit him. That’s when the guilt took hold. Karson had leaped a fence and run at the first sound of the gunfire.

Maybe, Karson thought, he could have saved Jacob, the smallest child in their class, if he hadn’t fled. At home, Karson began to explode in anger, breaking anything he could reach. Other times, he insisted that everyone hated him.

In October, before a doctor finally diagnosed the boy with PTSD, he had a party for his eighth birthday, and at the end, they released balloons into the sky for Jacob. Afterward, he walked off by himself. His mother followed, asking what was wrong.

“I should have waited for Jacob,” he told her.

Haviland thinks a lot about the thousands of children like Karson who, she contends, America has done so little to protect since Columbine. Many of Haviland’s former classmates have found success and happiness, but others have tried to ease their pain with drugs and alcohol. Some have considered killing themselves.

One high school friend sent Haviland a message online a few weeks ago, saying that, since the Las Vegas slaughter this past October, she’d been so stricken with anxiety she could barely leave her house.

A decade ago, after Haviland’s panic attack in the library, she finally got therapy and has come a long way since. She goes to movies and malls and political rallies. She has so often told her story--of hearing the shots, taking off her shoes, sprinting barefoot through the hallways--that telling it again doesn’t wreck her anymore.

She knows, though, that the trauma remains.

Three years ago, someone accidentally pressed a panic button in the school where she was working, signaling to police that a shooter was in the building. Haviland wasn’t there at the time, but she pulled up in her car just as the officers did. Then, in front of her, she saw students streaming outside, their hands in the air.

She began to sob.

#school shootings #school shooting survivors

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