The Continental jet that we are riding on is about to land at the Airport, taking us to a unique little coastal town in Florida, known as Pensacola. As it makes a hard right turn, the sun glistens off the ocean bay water, and my wife begins to squeeze my fingers on my left hand with the force of a pro-wrestler with a pair of vice grips. She is like a lot of other people who fly around this great country, who are not so much bothered by the flight, but the landings. Butterfly stomachs are soon settled as the ocean water eventually turns to land and the flight touches down, like a floating feather in the wind. She smiles at me and says "yes, we made it!" I look at her with a puzzled look on my face as I am shaking my still numb fingers vigorously, trying to regain some blood flow to them, and I realize, that all along I knew that this is the safest time to fly in America, with all the security measures implemented by the government. I would hate to be a terrorist right now on a flight, because for sure you would get your ass beat up big time, and most likely you would get your stupid butt thrown off the plane at 450 miles per hour if you even showed a hint of weirdness.

Our flight from San Diego puddle jumped first to Houston, where George W. Bush airport was filled with larger than life Texans who are cordial and speak with a very distinctive drawl that is amusing and confidently southern. After a few stiff cordials at the Bayou Bar and Grill we were on our way to sunny Pensacola, where we are going to rejoin once again our long time friends Donnie G and Sandi, and also continue our new friendship with Bill and Donna Clark. We all fit in like "peas and carrots" if I remember the line correctly from the movie Forrest Gump. It is very unique to find a group of people who are so alike in all their thoughts and mannerisms, as we all are. It is even more unique to find a group of people in which it is the right time in everyone's lives, after the children have finally grown, to become kids ourselves once again. In other words we have paid our dues, and now its time to have some cotton-picking fun all over again.

As the airplane taxied to the final unloading spot, it actually taxied across an auto overpass bridge, and that to me seemed very Pensaculiar as cars drove underneath us. Then after a quick zip around the airport plane parking lot, we eventually were directed where to park by attendants dressed in nifty shorts and tee shirts, waving orange markers who had the plane spin what seemed like a full 360 degree to achieve the perfect unloading spot. As usual when an airplane stops everyone is quick to unbuckle their seat belts. It seems kind of like a contest of who can unbuckle first. Then everybody stands up real quickly as if they are going to be able to exit the plane faster than anybody else in the 30 rows in front of them. Stop it, you folks are killing me. Eventually the exit door is opened to the airplane and a heat wave hit us, it was muggy and steamy hot, kind of like a Cappuccino right out of the frothing pot. You know the kind don't you? It is like so hot that even when you put a double wrapper around the coffee cup it still melts your fingers. It was "hotter than hell" if you know what I mean. My wife looks at me and she can tell that my mind as usual has drifted into outer space once again, and she says "your mind works in peculiar ways doesn't it"? I think she is right, because ironically my mouth is starting to water from the thought of some of that delicious seafood that is indigenous to this area. I guess it is true that great minds are always thinking about too much all the time, and people like me have been labeled as having adult attention deficit disorder. The gorgeous flight attendant at the exit door stands next to the cabin with silky brown hair and hazel colored eyes proudly displays a gold set of flight wings lapelled to her blue uniform. The Captain peers at the exiting passengers next to the bolted cockpit door with focused eyes and says "thanks for flying Continental" and then he gives me a nod. I think for a moment to myself, and I realize that coming from California's west coast, the weather there seems a bit cooler than here, but for sure the seafood does not taste as fresh for some reason or another. The trees here I notice seem much greener and the air seems purer, and the white sand beaches are enough to make you want to never go home again. But then again, where are all the wineries in Florida like California? I have grown accustomed to the Spanglish dialect that is often spoken in San Diego that combines Spanish and English, and it is very apparent that I do not have to worry about that little problem here in Pensacola because everyone speaks with a lovely southern drawl that reminds me of the movie "Gone with the Wind".

On this particular trip both our flight and Donnie G and Sandi's flight arrived within thirty minutes of each other. And sure enough after a long two and a half hour flight, Paula headed towards the front of the Airport exit in a hurried fashion, like a woman who is running late for work, but can't find her car keys. Airport security cautiously looked on with confusion as she dashed past them and out the front sliding glass doors she flew. As I passed the security guard posted up front right behind her, I told him, "don't worry, she just needs a nicotine fix". He shook his head and looked at me with a look that was sort of like "I know what you mean". You know it seems kind of funny how after so many years of living together you can count on so many recognizable traits of stupid is, and stupid does.

Once we were all off the planes we all met up at the front of the Airport and quickly retrieved our bags from the spell binding revolving stainless steel carousel that has captured my attention for some reason or another. And as the sleek modern aircraft continue to arrive, a glance to my left out front glass door windows brings a smile to my travel weary face, as I notice that the Special Forces have come to pick all of us up. Low and behold, it is none other than retired Special Forces Captain Bill Clark; now Bill is an interesting bird who likes to shake his tail feathers a bit, and simply loves life. He is a lot like me, a non conformist who is not afraid to speak his mind. He is tough as old shoe leather, smart as a whip, talented with his hands and still ruggedly handsome. He is clever and mischievous, simple and complicated, and you can always count on him to take care of your needs, way before his. He reminds me a lot of how America used to be when I was younger, and this country had real morals and concerns for your family and neighbors. I admire him very much for he is the classic American success story, and he has it all rolled up into a neat package, like a string that has been wound into a tight ball. Rumor has it that he was shot three times while enlisted as a Special Service man and lived thru it, only to call it just a flesh wound. The years have been kind to him and his sense of humor is infectious to be around. He takes great pride in his home, his family and his accomplishments, and Donna says his nick name after too many cocktails becomes Earl, who you might find rambling out and about in the city, passing out his hilarious clear neon Special Forces business cards.

I was introduced to Bill thru Donnie G about six months ago. And the three of us got along like the Three Amigos right out of the shoot. Donnie G is an ex-restaurant owner whom I have known for over twenty fascinating years, and the whacked out town of Ocean City, Maryland is where we first met, and our paths since then, have never been the same. Donnie G is an extreme sort of fellow, and his personality is somewhat deranged like mine. Some of his favorite things to do that give him great delight are mimicking voices or changing people's names all the time. He finds immense pleasure in changing the names of words and phrases also during TV shows that you are watching, which is a real gut buster. An example might be, from the movie Forest Gump, a character says "run Forest run". Donnie G would improvise the line a little by saying in a falsetto voice "run you dumb bastard, run". But kind is his heart and brilliant is his mind when it comes to things that he fits into his dysfunctional lifestyle. He is organized as a hurricane and his magnetic personality attracts you like a hungry Red Snapper that is attracted to a shiny fishing lure. He sports a neatly manicured gray beard and small mustache, and can usually be found walking around his house in the early morning in his loose fitting white cotton bath robes babbling innuendoes about people in the Caribbean, or singing in tenor Italian. He has warm brown eyes and he is addicted to the wacky Emails that we send back and forth over the Internet. Like Bill and me, he is also never one to pass up on a party to celebrate how short life really is. He is gifted and talented and has the memory of an elephant; and I read somewhere in a book a few years ago a phrase that describes him perfectly. It states that "the difference between madness and genius is a fine line". I guess you can say that Donnie G is the master of the high wire.

His trusty side kick is a lovely woman whom I wished I could have met years ago when Donnie G and I went our separate ways. I kept moving forward in my restaurant career, across this great country of America I traveled, and that's when Donnie G met Sandi. Sandi is a very talented woman who has made it her career to pick up the broken pieces of glass that come from walking beside a genius. She has a quiet confidence, a heart made of solid gold, and a smile that can warm even the loneliest of souls. She wears her hair cut short to accommodate the Florida heat waves, and you could get lost in her Amber colored eyes. She is kind and generous to all around her and she spent a good portion of her youth in the Miami, Florida area where Bill and Donna Clark, and my self spent many a good year. Perhaps that is why all of us coconuts like to hang out together. It is not uncommon for her to be dedicated and respectful, amazing and true, and she is loyal to this special part of the country, as well as to crazy Donnie G. Although Donnie G rarely admits it, deep in his heart he knows that she has made him into a greater man than he ever was before. It is definitely true that behind every great man, there is an even greater woman. Sandi has a funny quirky personality that all of us love to be around because it is so predictable and adorable. She is the organizer and confidant to Donnie G, and together they make a successful team, that has accomplished much in so little time. She is fragile and built of steel at the same time, and I admire her more than she could possibly know. Sandi has few faults to speak of, and is the owner of a very interesting shrilling voice she uses to keep Donnie G in line when he gets a little out of control with his whacked out sense of humor. She has so many great qualities, and I can find only one that she suffers from. She has been fighting cigarette cravings for years like my wife, and she really wants to quit smoking. She smokes those little frickin tiny thin cigarettes that are like midget sized man. They are like trying to suck orange juice with pulp thru a coffee stirrer from out of a whole unpeeled Orange. Where's the pleasure in that I think to myself. If you're going to smoke, then be like me and light up a big fat ass imported Cigar and get it over with.

We loaded up the suitcases at the airport into Bill's Malibu sedan that proudly displays Special Forces license plates, we then headed north a stones throw or two, up Olive road by Scenic Highway that runs alongside Escambia Bay to Donnie and Sandi's house on Winding Lane. The obscure comedy started right away with all of us once again, as we were leaving the parking lot, past the pay check out gate, and Bill says to the attendant, "we have only been here five minutes, so why do we have to pay"? The attendant says "well it's still a dollar sir". And of course, me with my twisted mind, says under mumbled breath "Ok pal, here's a buck, but don't make me come back here and take you out with the rest of this little shack you're working out of, with a few rounds of m-60s, and the Special Forces team". The lot attendant wasn't sure if he should give Bill his money back or crap his pants. Well comedy is not pretty around here sometimes, and it felt good to be back again in this wonderful little town, and both Paula and myself were very happy to be back with our wacky friends from Mackey Cove.

Once we arrived at Donnie and Sandi's home, I headed for the fridge to get a long over due cold one, and Bill said that his wife Donna was at work until five today. Now Donna is a Shining Diamond in the rough. She is the poetry in motion, and she is like the fresh air we long to constantly breathe. Like the smell of fresh baked bread out of the oven, she is good for the soul and always rises to help others in need. She is also known to be a closet pole dancer who likes to roll around on the pool tables at Chanceys Night Club once in a while on a full Moon, or when the time is right. To me she is a little bit of Heaven right here on earth, for it doesn't take long for her to rub her magical personality upon you. She has a laugh that is precious and obnoxious at the same time, and she is truly a woman of beauty. She is also a lot like Sandi, being the central structure of the family that usually has the final say of the way it's going to be. I did not know this until recently that Donna and Sandi are life long friends, much like Donnie G and my self are. Perhaps that is why we all get along so well, "like peas and carrots" because we all can call it the way we see it; and usually, we all see it the same way we called it.

It feels very comfortable for Paula and me to return to Pensacola time and time again for our mini vacations, and we are thankful to our friends who put us up with room and board, and most importantly, they put up with our wacky personalities. They have big plans for us to move to Pensacola some day, and that to me, sounds kind of like a Martha Stewart saying "it's a good thing". I hope their vision for us eventually comes true, and indeed it would be a real good thing. Unfortunately through out most of our lives we are taught that you can only have so much fun and joy in your life time. Well I have to disagree, and just the opposite is true around these larger than life characters. When all of us get together, life to me turns into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, simply because life should be lived out in a nutty and fruity way. And if you smoosh the flavors together, you will love the taste, and life's friendships will love you back for sure.

I realize that time seems to move a pace or two slower in Pensacola, unlike San Diego, perhaps because I have no pressure or deadlines to sell a million cars here, and Paula is out of school right now. She is taking a well deserved vacation after finishing her Masters Degree in Psychology. Soon she will be starting on her Doctorate program, and that means two more years of grueling Forensic Psychology training, in which I am sometimes the Guinea pig. Both of us can envision ourselves eventually moving and living here in the near future, or at least securing a second home, and if the Stars and Planets align properly, who knows what can happen. I sit back for a moment and think about a phrase that Paula always repeats to me, like a parrot with limited vocabulary. It is a phrase that rings like a beacon in the night that is a good idea to live by. It goes "prior preparation prevents a poor performance". Perhaps some one from up above has already carved our future for us into a stone tablet. It seems kind of weird in a cool kind of way, how life lets you bump into people time and time again, but sometimes the sparks of friendship never ignite. Perhaps we have been drawn to Pensacola, like Magnets to Steel, with a little twist of destiny thrown in to be with our long lost and new friends. Or perhaps the big man up above is giving us our enlightenment call to start some prior preparation. We respect them and love them dearly, and wouldn't change them or the balance of our friendship, for all the money in the world. Who knows for sure, only time will tell I guess if we all will eventually walk down the same road.

Its 6:30 Thursday night, and I love Lucy is blasting on the television and Donnie G is in his falsetto voice once again saying "Lucy I'm hoooommmmeeee", and a horn blows from a car out in front of the house, and in an elaborate gesture of pure class, Bill and Donna have summoned a white stretch limousine to escort us to dinner tonight. Thank God! I am starving and could eat a whole raw fish at this point. I ponder for a minute and think, what a phenomenal idea this is, and I am grateful to be surrounded by such good friendship and love. One thing we all have in common for sure is our love for good food, and tonight the champagne is going to flow mister as we joyfully flow down the Scenic Highway, to Downtown Pensacola, to Lou Michaels Restaurant.

We were introduced to Lou Michael Huss on our last trip, and we enjoy his restaurant and his company very much. Lou is a simple tall man with stately looking Silver hair who runs his cozy restaurant with an Iron fist. His eyes are shadowed by twenty four carat gold framed glasses, and his vision is focused like a hungry eagle. He is energetic as an athlete, constantly flying around his recently expanded Restaurant saying "Hello, Goodbye, Hello, Goodbye" which oddly enough reminds me of a Beatles song. He is charming and personable, and Donnie G and I always look at each other and chuckle every time we see him, because that is exactly how we used to be many years ago in that business. His downtown restaurant is neat and successful and his Chef skillfully prepares with the greatest of ease for us, Pan seared Duckling, Grilled Veal Chops with Blue Crab Meat and assorted fresh Seafood's that were enjoyed by everyone, along with some fabulous Van Gogh Raspberry Vodka Cosmopolitans. His staff is well trained, educated and polite, and they reflect his mirrored image. Dinner was superb, and for dessert a marvelous Baked Alaska was prepared and served. Old Lou, who Donnie G fondly calls "Miguel Louigi" looked over at me and with a twinkle in his eye, he winked at me when we finished with dinner. He knew that he and his staff had pulled another rabbit out of his Mad Hatter Hat, and all of us were very content and some what bleary eyed, as were all of the other clients who enjoyed another fabulous dinner with vintage wine and stellar cocktails. It was a marvelous evening together, and I thought it was great to see him again, one more time as the Mardi Gras street parade out front that was filled with whacked out floats and crazed people throwing colorful beaded necklaces slowly passed by. And then suddenly it was like someone turned off a light switch, and the parade disappeared, like dust in the wind.

Bill and Donna got the brilliant idea that maybe we should go to Chanceys for a night cap. The last time we were there we got thrown out for pole dancing, table dancing, singing loudly off key, stumbling around, having to much fun, taking two hours to play a ten minute pool game, and for drunkenly knocking over two tables in a row of glass drinks. Well, we did have a few to many drinks last time, and the bartender remembered our names vividly for some reason or another, and when we returned again she said "not you again". We didn't stay long this time because the drunken magic wasn't there, and for some reason or another, we decided to leave after only a few pops. We all climbed back into the Limo like kids piling into a tree fort, and we eventually headed back down the 10, back to stable ground where all of us could get some much needed rest.

A thought occurred to me once we got back to Donnie G and Sandi's home that interior designers that have any talent at all are hard to find, expensive, difficult to deal with, and usually you are only somewhat satisfied with the final outcome. Well Donnie G is an interior design kind of guy on the side, and their interior home design is astonishing. It is bold and brave, dynamic and innovative, clever and cool, and most importantly their home is extremely comfortable to friends and guests, who all say the same thing, after their chin hits the ground. It is fabulous just fabulous On the other hand if you could have a dream house on the water, it would be Bill and Donna's beautiful three story home. They have been fortunate enough to have lived there Bill told me for over twenty years, and loved every minute of it. Their wonderful bay side home, brick by brick and board by board has been filled with expensive collections of eclectic furniture's from around the world that they have carefully collected. There is a black Baby Grand Piano that sits in the middle of the second floor living room that tells stories in silent whisperings of younger days, and there are too many rooms to count in their comfortably large home. A few of my favorite rooms at their house are Bill's Special Forces room, that is filled with Military memorabilia and stuff that his father passed on to him for good keeping. There is a wall that proudly displays Special Forces plaques and Military memorabilia, and in the center is the Purple Heart for heroism. And then there is Donna's expanded clothing closet emporium. I thought I was going to faint from disbelief when I accidentally walked by it and peeked in, and I realized that she could give Imelda Marcos a run for her money with just the shoes she has, forget about the thousands of outfits, hats and accessories. She is going to kill me for writing this, but it is just another part of her eccentric charming personality that you grow to love, and of course I usually tell it like it is, no matter what the consequences.

Romeo her nifty dog runs the show around the joint as he cavorts all over the place in a frantic pace. He is eager for your attention and he is willing to sit by your side even when you are deep in thought. The beautifully landscaped front yard of white picket fencing, palm trees, butterfly bushes and roses, leads you to the back yard that consists of screened porches, multi level stair cases and cement statues that seem happy, but are quiet in thought. Saint Augustine grass eventually turns into a white sand beach front that disappears into the Escambia bay. I believe that the White Adirondack chairs in the back yard, that sit silent in the wind under the cerulean blue sky close to the incoming tide, could tell some stories that probably would make you blush. But I will save those thoughts for the next short story. You breathe in the purity of the ocean bay and your eyes become drawn towards the ocean from the back yard as you observe a very secure looking dock that was built on the bay by Bill and his sons Chad and Billy junior, and I am sure their lovely daughter Tiffany had her hand in it also. The dock is like a fortress held up by hefty telephone poles that have been sunk into the murky water divide ocean floor that could withstand any Hurricane you could throw at a Special Forces guy. At the end of the dock is a cocktail bar of course, a two story deck that overlooks the entire bay, and waving in the breeze is the red, white and blue flag of patriotism, that I am sure still makes all of us very proud and courageous to see it, in these turbulent times. Perched just to the left of the dock is an inboard outboard sleeper boat that we were fortunate enough to take a spin around the bay in. I took control of the wheel while Bill was seeing a man about a horse and we went under the wrong bridge and got us a bit lost. Good thing we weren't drinking, because we still might be out on that bay full of jumping Dolphins and funky Flounder.

When we returned from the boat ride, I thought my vision was deceiving me that day, even after my recent Lasik eye surgery, because two houses down from Bill and Donna's I thought I saw Ernest Hemmingway throwing a large casting fishing net into the sea from a pier extended out into the bay. There was an elder gentleman with a salty fisherman appearance, dressed in baggy shorts and sandals with an old tee shirt, dark tanned, and his silver hair and beard blew in the wind. He reminded me of Hemmingway in his elder years. He threw his 15 foot casting net as though he had been doing it for decades in a limited flowing motion of perfection. As I looked on with fascination with Billy Junior the Private Investigator, the old man pulled his net from the sea and pulled out a legal Flounder and some Purple and neon yellow grunt fish. Holy cow I thought to myself, why do you even need a fishing pole around here? I looked at Bill and thought "what would happen if you fished with Hand Grenades"? Then you wouldn't need fishing poles or casting nets either. Another cast by the old man and the sea, and bingo he netted some more grunt fish and a spotted trout. Billy Junior who is a very observant young man with mysterious looking eyes said "let's go see what he caught today". I was a bit apprehensive, as I was introduced to the old gentleman who turned out to be Bobbie, who was a key figure to the development of Mackey Cove area, a life long resident not Ernest Hemmingway. Billy Junior introduced me as Grego from San Diego, California and with clever wit, Bobbie said "I won't hold that against you son". From that moment on, I found yet another good American soul that could be right out of a Steinbeck novel, standing right in front of me. He climbed aboard and eventually rode his rickety old bike over to Bill's pier and helped us filet the fresh caught fish that was still flapping around on the cutting boards. He said "that's not how you filet fish, this is how". The old dog taught the new kids on the block a few things about gutting and cutting as he spoke in a unique southern Alabama dialect, sort of a drawl crossed with a little Cajun I think, and he shared stories with us of how things used to be around here. A charming and genuine smile came over his face, as he told the entertaining story of how years ago someone captured a medium sized Alligator and painted him white, then let him go back in the bay. For several years after that, people swore there was an albino Alligator living right here in Escambia Bay. He made me feel welcome with his southern charm as Bill told him someday soon I might move out this way. He smiled contently at me as he scratched his bearded chin, then he squinted his eyes as he thought for a minute, and then he finally said "well you can buy my house around the corner from here when you're ready. He reached out his weathered calloused old hand and looked me squarely in the eye, and then he firmly shook my hand. "Pleasure meeting you son" he said, and as he said his final good bye to everyone, I got caught up in the preciousness and freshness of the moment, as Billy Junior tossed a small fish that was too tiny to keep back into the fertile bay. It was time to go, and those memories of that day still shine in my head like the glorious golden sun that melts into a perfect afternoon. He looked back one more time and then he rode away on his rusty old bike, and disappeared into the hush of the early afternoon.

The days in Pensacola continue to roll along like a slow moving train that isn't in any hurry to go anywhere, and each day that we were there our joy level got better and better than the last one. We traveled all over the city, and we even ate boiled peanuts down at the Trail bar where we met Pete the Pelican, who was rescued and brought to a Marina bar that has some marsh land around it where he could safely live. Pete was a curious Pelican who liked his new digs, but wasn't big on conversation. We stared at his grayish-silver body for what seemed like hours, and then all of a sudden he just flew away. Later that day we smoked hand rolled Cohiba La Habana cigars on Donnie G's back patio and told stories of our delirious pasts, and washed the sinfully smoky taste down with imported Rum and American Beers. And as our journeys took us all around this wonderful cities highways and by ways, one of the most memorable things I experienced, was getting to go to Joe Patti's Seafood market. Joe Patti started his little fishing company many Moons ago, and now some 50 plus years later it is the "Emerald of the Sea food market" providing an abundance of fresh seafood products. I was in awe when Bill took me and Donnie G there, because there must have been at least 30 different selections of fresh fish that you could buy, as well as fresh oysters, clams, mussels, crabs, lobsters, soft shell crabs, alligator meat, crawfish, a dozen different shrimps including the Red Royals and so much more, I can't even begin to tell you about how much seafood there wasMy pulse was pounding and it was truly a memorable experience, and I believe his seafood market is the largest fresh seafood market open to the public on the east coast that I have ever been to. I have got to stop talking about the fresh seafood indigenous to this area, because my mouth is watering again, but this time it is drooling profusely like Pavlov's dog when the bell was rung.

There is another section of the Sea Food market that of course has all the accompaniments to season your fresh seafood with. There is also a fully stocked wine cellar that would make a wino faint. Bill took me over to the barbeque seasoning section and with his observant eyes he noticed a seasoning for pork barbeque. It seemed kind of out of place in the store, but the name of the product had us rolling in the aisles, it was called "butt rub". And that for some reason or another had us bent over with laughter. You grab a ticket at the front counter and stand in line until your number is called, and then someone stays with you until you have all the seafood and supplies you could possibly need. It is like a mad house of electric energy that one could easily fall in love with. The people who live in Pensacola don't have any idea of just how good they have it here. Or maybe they do, and they just sort of realize that this is the way it always is around here, so just don't tell anybody.

My stomach hurts from laughing too much every time I return here, and I am thankful to my good friends who introduce us to their good friends with each new visit. The joy of laughter eventually turns to somber depression when both Paula and I realize that our vacation is about to come to an end. It is sort of like not wanting to go to a Dentist appointment that you have already made, and you keep looking at your watch hoping that time will never get there, even though you know that your tooth has to be pulled. Each time I come to Pensacola, it becomes harder and harder to leave when the vacation clock is winding down, and time is melting before your very eyes. Sometimes in life if you pay enough attention to all your senses, you can predict certainties in your life. And each time we travel to this special part of America to visit our friends, my alter personality ego keeps whispering in my head. It says over and over again "what are you waiting for"?

The seafood we purchased form Joe Patti's was loaded in Bill's car trunk and we headed back to Donnie G's to prepare all of the wonderful dishes that we liked to cook.. Shucked oysters turned into Oysters Rockefeller with baked Hollandaise sauce, while lump crab meat was seasoned and stuffed into crab shell bodies and smothered with a James Beard Bechamel creme sauce. Red Royal Shrimp and Floridian Lobster tails turned into Cioppino Seafood Marinara that was reduced down with fresh tomatoes, olive oil, garlic and herbs, a little bit of red wine, then it was served over spiral pasta. It was a night of great food, good conversation, and the evening ended with making some long distance calls to some of our long lost friends, who live in Washington D.C. and Ocean City, Maryland area. I wrote down their email addresses and numbers and before I climbed into bed about 3 am, I remember thinking to myself, god damn we have got to get some of those crazy people who we used to hang out with down here to Pensacola.

The Mackey Cove area has become a secret getaway spot that everyone enjoys. I even got a chance to see my younger sister and her family after a short drive to Tallahassee one day there. It was kind of weird at dinner that night in Tallahassee, for I met up with my step family also which was a bit unsettling, and during dinner and conversation a girl approached the table and said "are you Mr. Maness"? I said "yes I am". She leaned over, handed me a signed baseball Hooter's Jersey with all kinds of girls names on it, and she said "from all of us girls at Hooters Restaurant, thanks for last night". My wife's chin hit the ground and everyone at the table gulped and swallowed their disbelief. The young woman abruptly winked and turned and began to walk away, a few seconds later which seemed like an eternity, she turned around once again one last time to see the expression on my face. She then disappeared into the twilight of the evening. To me it was obscure and quite comical, but still today I don't know who sent that Hooter's Jersey shirt that was signed by all the lovely ladies. Life is kind of inky sometimes.

The next morning we arose early realizing that dawn brings forth a new day, a new beginning for each and every one of us, and I realized that we are lucky to be alive in this age of splendor. It was good seeing the old family once again, and I am grateful to still be walking around on this wonderful planet with my body and mind still somewhat intact. When we got back to Pensacola from Tallahassee, the morning crickets were still chirping as the ground squirrels playfully darted back and forth around the back yard of Donnie G and Sandi's house, they fly thru the air like circus acrobats from tree to tree with the greatest of ease. We have decided that today is going to be a casual day, to rest and reflect upon. But tonight is going to be the big one. Show down under big sky at the Fish House Restaurant, with new friends to meet.

Our vacation has nearly come to a close, and the night before our vacation was over we eagerly awaited the opportunity to visit every Pensacolan's favorite restaurant, which incidentally is right around the corner from World famous Joe Patti's Seafood market. Bill told me yet another true story of how Joe Patti a few years ago was caught not paying his taxes. He was caught like a flounder in a gill net, and the county offered him a plea bargain and reduced taxes if he paid, because he was such a model citizen. He said "no" at first, being the stubborn old guy that he is, and that he wasn't gonna pay at all. Not one dime. So the county withdrew their offer for the plea bargain, and Joe later woke up out of his stupor and came to his senses and realized that he should have taken the deal. But as is true with all in life, it was too late. It was a case of lessons learned are like bridges burned, and it seems to me that his situation Joe Patti is involved in is sort of like deep Southern Politics. Or maybe even a soap opera right before your eyes called Pensacola Seafood Blues. So the outcome is not settled yet, but Joe Patti's is sure selling a ton of fresh seafood while the verdict is out. Like fishing boats that are out at sea trying to find some new catch, there are bumper stickers everywhere around town, supportive of poor old Joe Patti and his bad decision. I think the town wants to forgive and forget, and can you imagine the town without his wonderful fresh fish market?

From the moment my wife and I arrived in Pensacola, Bill has been telling us about the Fish House Restaurant, and we have got to go and try the unbelievable seafood that they prepare there, and sure enough he was right. He kept going on about "you gotta try the Ya Ya Grits". When we finally arrived, the Fish House was busier than a one armed paper hanger, and beautiful people strolled around the place like it was their own living room. It is unique to find such a place where every one feels comfortable. It is even more unbelievable to be able to find a secret spot that you can call your own, a special place where everyone knows the food is superb, and the cocktails are stiff. My subconscious suddenly realizes that if the fish and seafood here came from Joe Patti's, you could probably bet your last wooden nickel, that tonight this dinner is gonna rock. "Jumping" is the phrase that first comes to mind that best describes this Bay side restaurant, as we met up with two more of Bill and Donna's friends that are indigenous to the area named Rita and Will. Packed like friendly lemons in boxes we were, and we couldn't be any happier. There is a saying I once over heard from an old Restaurateur that I knew years ago named Dan Gutherie, that whispered in my head all of a sudden, that goes "a crowd attracts a crowd". It was the upper Crust of the city that has made this special place, their secret hang out joint. The American Express crowd built of platinum, gold and titanium, who continually support this little slice of Heaven right here in their own back yard. So there we were sipping Martini's, Aged Scotch and Imported Rum at the bruised and aged wooden bar, that I am sure has served many a pirate before us. It was to become a memorable evening with the YaYa girls accompanied by the Cleveland Indian fan guys that joined forces together for one special night, and the conversations ranged from delivering babies to grand slam home runs.

All of us were hungry as Tropical fish in a glass fish bowl that have not been fed in a week or so, and all of us were well prepared to do some damage on some fresh Floridian Seafood, just like those pesky Pirates used to do on coastal raids. The cocktails at the bar were drained like gasoline sucked into a 454 big block engine and the busy hostess gathered us all together and led us single file to a comfortable back dining room that had a marvelous Sushi Bar in it. I love Sushi, and from what I gathered so does everybody else joining us tonight. My mind thinks of things slightly different sometimes than other people do, and from out of the blue I began to hum a song in my head that goes "if you knew Sushi, like I knew Sushi, oh, oh what a gal". Sometimes old songs have to be adapted to suit the moment, don't you think? Perhaps it is just the "young at heart side of me" that keeps me silly and forever young.

Several bottles of select wine were brought by Will, one of the guests that made me feel at ease at dinner tonight, because one of my closet passions is collecting and drinking fine wine, and unbelievably so was his. Now Will is kind of the silent type, and he has warm trusting eyes that sparkle like diamonds when a subject eventually captures his attention. He is a man of few words but kindness exudes from his pores, and he has great depth and knowledge of the grape and the real world. He and I have found the time in our busy lives to study and explore the complexities of wine and the art of viniculture. I admire a person who has done enough research to realize that it is no easy job to create a 90 plus point rated wine by Robert Parker or other wine critics in Wine Spectator Magazine. I too am a lot like him with my ambitions and hobbies of interest, and I am sure that we could share some great stories together about wine tasting and collecting if we only had a little more time. He is also a big baseball fan, and you gotta like a guy who loves the Cleveland Indians. Perhaps with a little more time on our next rendezvous here to Pensacola, he and his lovely bride Rita will be able to rejoin our new circle of friends. I believe that I over heard Donnie G and Will both say that they are both from Ohio. Man we all just fit in together like peas and carrots with this seafood man.

You know there is nothing more flattering and painful than the truth, and usually I call it like I see it, and I realize that Will is a very fortunate man to have married such a vision of beauty. The first thought that came to my mind when I met his wife Rita was "wow that's a tall drink of water". She is a stunning blonde beauty of nearly six feet, and if that is not enough to make you flip your wig daddy, she also has God given talent to work with her hands that brings new life to fortunate parents. Combine it with a Medical Degree mind forged of brilliance and a wickedly funny personality, she is entertaining and delightful, and she is a good match with Will, for it is true that opposites really do attract. What can you say, when you have it all besides "The world is your Oyster". Rita shared with me and my wife Paula, a few photos of her beautiful children, and that my friends if you do not know it already, is a major trust issue that breaks down all the barrier walls from awkward first meetings. Gifted is her mind and golden is her skin from one on one time with the coastal sunshine, and deep is her thoughts from heavy job responsibilities. Happy is her heart though from being able to provide miracles on a daily basis from another day of a job well done, and she seems to take life like a grain of sand. I think she realizes that if you take all those tiny little grains of sand and put them all together, it will form a beautiful sandy beach. Like sands passing thru an hour glass, to her each grain that passes is a precious moment in time.

A waiter who has brought more large wine goblets is clear eyed and focused with his job responsibilities, but at the same time he has a "Cool hand Luke" sort of attitude that comes from confidence in promoting a product he believes in. I notice that the attentive waiters and waitresses are everywhere, flying around the joint, like charming Bumble Bee's buzzing around the hive. Eventually we settled in around the large round table and we proceeded to dissect the printed menu with the precision of a plastic surgeon. We thought it over and discussed our orders between each other, like family members do at supper time. And then we ordered like commodity shares traders on the market, hungry for new taste sensations. We probably ordered too much of everything, because like my mother used to say "you're eyes are bigger than your stomach", so be careful what you order, because you just might have to eat it. We were ready to tear into some super fresh seafood for sure, and just after we placed our dinner orders, Bill looked over at me and said "good choice, the Ya Ya Grits, you're gonna like them".

The dazzling appetizers came first, consisting of Cracked Blue Crab claws, California and Dragon Roll Sushi that paired well with Drizzled Calamari, half fried Oysters and someone at the dinner table ordered a marvelous Seafood Gumbo soup. The cocktails and wine continued to flow like the incoming tide, and as I glanced around this busy fun house Restaurant I realized that there is a very comfortable warmth and genuine feel that glows from inside the Fish House. And I wonder if it would even be here if old Joe Patti and his band of merry fishermen buddies hadn't put this place on the map. You know, life sometimes takes you thru some magical situations, and sometimes it takes you thru the bitterness and depths of disparity. A second bottle of Oregon Pinot Noir was opened and poured, and the new glasses replace the old ones to suffice everyone's needs. The conversations at the dinner table are bouncing around like ping pong balls, and I am having trouble keeping up with all the wacky conversations and stories being told tonight. What I noticed the most is that everybody at the Restaurant has big smiles on their faces, like the Joker in the Bat Man movie, and everybody at our dinner table is sinfully on their way to Utopia and they are joyfully laughing.

See if you are ready for this, now Rita the OBGYN and Will the successful business man, have joined up tonight with Donnie G and Sandi, the Caribbean advertising owner directors of Ameri Media, Paula the Psychology Major finalizing her Doctorate in Forensic Psychology, accompanied by me the hot shot car sales manager, slash wacko painter artist, slash short story writer, along with Bill the retired special forces medical sales guy and Donna the social Butterfly. If you think there were some lively conversations at that dinner table, you are probably right. I was in mental ecstasy just listening to everyone, and to the hustle bustle sounds of the busy Restaurant. As the sun began to slowly go down, sinking into the murky ocean water divide, these friendly far too familiar sounds left me thinking of the wonderful years I spent in the hospitality industry.

The appetizers were terrific and when we were finished, the plates were cleared away like the out going tide, and my hopes were high with anticipation to taste the Ya Ya grits that Bill says area must to try. When the entrée's arrive, the Seafood dishes were phenomenal in color and presentation. Everyone turned into a race car driver at the starting gate waiting for the green flag. Our expectations were running high, fueled with desire for more good food. The green flag is waived and then everyone dug in like pearl divers digging for the perfect pearl, when my mind suddenly snaps. I try to keep it to myself, but I can't Yahoo!... my taste buds are screaming with delight upon my first taste of fresh sautéed Gulf of Mexico Red Royal Shrimp served over Smoked Gouda Cheese Grits. It sounds kind of wacky, and it is definitely decadent Southern with a Cajun twist. But sure enough, the whole dish floored me, and my twisted mind finally realized that things are a little different here in Pensacola. The restaurant background noise suddenly went dead quiet, and all I could hear was the ooohs, and aaaahs. It sounded like a food orgy as everyone wolfed their dinners down. "Try some of this" someone said and the response was "Oh my God!" Overwhelmed taste buds bathed in precious sips of Big Red Wine as miniature masseuse that circulated in our blood stream relaxed our tired muscles and over worked minds. What a wacky flavor these Ya Ya Shrimp Grits have I tell Bill, as he is staring at me with florescent eyes, and I think that Earl is about to arrive. The robust Red Wine has made me and the guests loose as a goose in the summer time, so of course we should order one last bottle of French Meritage Cabernet, Bonnes Mare 97 of course. Suddenly the Bumble Bees have come around again, along with more new wine glasses to replace the old. Surf and Turf dinners and Mahi Mahi specials are going down like thunder down under, and all of us are having a rocking good time. Everybody is having so much fun maybe we should stand up and start flapping our wings. I am so grateful for such an abundance of fresh Seafood to be consumed, and both my wife and I are ridiculously overwhelmed by the generosity that our new friendships bring. I have been fortunate enough to have cooked all over this great country, and I am happy to have learned from some of the best in the world. The food here at the Fish House rocks It is Gulf Coast Cuisine at its finest, and it is mind blistering and inspiring.