Anniversary in the City
OK, those who follow my stories know that Bucko is not a big fan of celebrations, cities, and social gatherings but I am always up for anything. And when it comes to our shared anniversaries, I am going to make sure these get acknowledged in some way, regardless. This year our 47th anniversary followed our two-week stay in Belize and preceded another planned trip of mine with friends in Arizona. Neither of us was interested in another big getaway this year. But we had to do something!
Why not Jacksonville? Although we have lived in Fernandina for 25 years or more, we rarely ever make the trek to our city neighbor except for car appointments and such. Yes, I do go with friends to eat out or go to museums but I always manage to finagle others into driving me. Neither Bucko nor I like city driving and we are unfamiliar with all the on- and off-ramps and the strange directional signs in Jacksonville. It is easier to just not go there.
But this year, at the last minute when we couldn’t get reservations at our favorite overnight escape in Darien, Georgia, I finally looked at what Jacksonville offered in the way of interesting lodging in an easy-to-reach location. And I found the perfect place, the Riverdale Inn, on Riverside Drive near Five Points. And to sweeten the pot, at least for me, my favorite restaurant, Hawkers, is within walking distance away. And I had even more of a plan. Let’s go to the Museum of Science and History (MOSH) first.
Grudgingly, Bucko accepted this plan, and on the morning of our anniversary we were in our car and heading south. But then, of all times, our GPS cell phone app malfunctioned. How on earth could we navigate in this teeming metropolis without GPS? It was almost enough to make Bucko cancel the whole idea. But I persevered, we fixed the app, and started again. But more troubles happened soon enough. When we navigated to MOSH, we were horrified to find it completely surrounded by construction, on the museum itself, and neighboring lots that once used to be parking spaces but now have none! Again we almost gave up and just drove home. Finally, though, we located a semi-legal parking spot, circumnavigated the large museum building to find the entrance obscured by construction, and entered at last, in not very good moods.
But our luck changed, thank heavens. First off, because of all the construction and hassles, the museum offered a discounted rate that even included an amusing sound/laser show in the planetarium, a preview look at their new exhibit on astronauts, and a stroll through the other exhibits. And afterwards we managed to find Hawkers and I had an Asian street food style meal, which reminded me of our many times in that part of the world.
The Riverdale Inn is one of the last two mansions left along Riverside Drive, where in its heyday about 50 such estates existed, but now the area has been developed into tall riverside apartments and businesses. We checked in and soon discovered that the air conditioner in our room wasn’t cooling. We mentioned it to the host, then we walked over to the River and Post rooftop lounge for great views of the St. Johns River and bridges, and extravagant cocktails and snacks that made up our dinner.
Back at the hotel, though, our air conditioner still wasn’t working, no host was around, it was late, so we toughed it out. After all, Bucko reminded me that we’d stayed in worse places than this over the years and lived to tell the tale. The next morning the host appeared, apologetic about the cooling situation, and offered to totally refund our expensive room. But Bucko, nice guy that he is, said, that’s ok, how about just refunding us half the price? The kind host agreed but threw in a bonus. Next time you come, you will get half off too!
After breakfast, I wandered down the street to Memorial Park and enjoyed the scene. On one bench, three old-ish well-dressed women shared a bench and conversation. People with dogs strolled by, allowing me to pet their dogs when I asked (and I always ask). And, most amazingly, a fellow was perched on another bench doing a handstand on one arm. When he returned to a more human position, I asked his name. “I don’t give out my name,” he said. And he said he could do these stunts on a park bench only because he “had white privilege.” “Well I have white privilege too, I guess, but I can’t do this.” “Sure you can,” but I left well before he could cajole me up on the bench with him.
All in all it was a good night out, maybe even for Bucko. And the best thing about it, for me, is the fact that now that we have a half-off “coupon” I know we will be back! (Poor Bucko.)
Pat Foster-Turley, Ph.D., is a zoologist on Amelia Island. She welcomes your nature questions and observations. [email protected]
