I’m Fixing to Go Down to the Redneck Riviera
I’m fixing to go down to the Redneck Riviera.
I figured all that oil from the spill had been cleaned up by BP and the government by now, and I was correct. Well, in one respect.
It seems they never did have any oil on the beaches and when I arrived at Gulf Shores and Orange Beach, the beaches were their normal sugar-white and gleaming in the sun.
They served me some oysters on the half-shell from Apalachicola that were salty and succulent, and after I had slurped down a couple of dozen of them, I devoured a big slab of fresh caught gulf flounder, which was white and fluffy and made my taste buds jump with joy.
The second day I ventured out onto the state park’s pier, which goes about a quarter of a mile out into the gulf. It was wide and spacious and for six bucks you got a saltwater fishing license and you could take your cooler, your bait and an arm load of fishing rods out there with you.
On the day I was there the anglers had caught red fish, pompano, blues, whiting and an 18 pound mackerel which was so big they had to cut his head off before they could get it into the cooler.
Some lovely friends and hosts of mine down there in Orange Beach gave me three tar balls which the government and BP had spent millions to recover. Amazingly they looked just like the little tar balls which used to stick to the bottom of my feet when I tread that beach in 1960. They were rare, but I think they seeped from the bottom of the gulf long before any oil rigs were erected out there. I’m going to see what I can get for these government issued ones on ebay.
You know what else was amazing? I saw that old pelican bird, the one which was drenched with oil, the same one they kept showing over and over on TV.
He was cleaned up and looking smart. Everybody down there called him Slick, and he had taken all that money he earned in royalties from being on TV so much and bought himself a condo in Orange Beach on a marina with a view of the gulf on the front and a view of the inter coastal on the back side.
He’s got himself a big boat too and goes out fishing a lot and listens to Jimmy Buffett while he eats crab claws and hush puppies.
Before I left I walked out into the front yard of my friend’s house and picked myself a bag of oranges. I guess that’s why they call it Orange Beach.
It’s always five o’clock down there, and all’s fixing to be well down on the Redneck Riviera.