Along The Coast

This morning, I raised my head from the sleeping cocoon I’d created within my Subaru when I saw them; two girls across the street staring directly at me. They had obviously been discussing my vehicle and their looks of suspicion were transformed into expressions of gaping astonishment when they saw my head bob into view. I nearly laughed at their surprise and did the only thing I could think of to do - I flashed them a thumbs-up, smiled and waved. After a few moments, they waved back at me somewhat incredulously. Sensing an appropriate exit point, I hopped into the driver seat and sped off towards the beach.

I’d made it to Panama City Beach the night before from Nashville and was surprised by the somewhat desolate strip of hotels, condos and restaurants that lined the coastline. Primarily a spring break and summer resort, mid-December left the area feeling lonely and void of activity.

A Particularly Neglected Hotel


I honestly didn’t set out intending to go to HOOTERS. I was looking for a place with a beach-side patio where I could order a drink, look out over the ocean and enjoy the beautiful evening. I drove for miles along the strip trying to find my hoped for oasis amid the condos, tattoo parlors, Waffle Houses and surf shops. When I finally found a place after 10 minutes of cruising, I walked headlong into a company party which had rented out the entire restaurant.

It was after these frustrations that I spotted the HOOTERS next door. I ordered a drink and some fried pickles (please, I implore you - never, ever do this at HOOTERS) and spent time writing a few letters, checking email and choking down the pickles. It was a slow evening and when I asked the waitress about potential nearby campsites she ended up talking for a bit about life and the slow pace brought on by December. As you may be able to guess, she had no good camping information.

As I left the restaurant, I started thinking about my documentary. I’ve been gathering interviews for a video documentary I plan to compile upon my return that compares people’s viewpoints and perspectives from varying regions and walks of life. I complied a standard set of three questions that I've asked everyone who’s been willing to be interviewed. Upon finishing, I plan to splice the answers together in a piece that contrasts people’s viewpoints, problems and ambitions. I’ve had some great interviews but 80% have been from white males. Interviewing the waitress would both provide both gender diversity as well as a bit of, well, flare to the project.

I walked back into the restaurant and, after explaining the project, asked the waitress if she’d be willing to be interviewed. She agreed but became quiet after I revealed the three questions I’d be asking which are fairly introspective. She asked if I’d come back the next morning after she’d had some time to think through them, and I agreed.

The next morning, after the previously detailed rouge blog posting and morning spotting, I hit the beach. It was made up of gorgeous fine white sand and despite an overcast sky, I greatly enjoyed the morning.








After some ocean-side reading and photography, I swung by the restaurant for the interview before leaving town. The place wasn’t yet open and I had to motion for someone inside to come to the door. The woman from inside looked at me suspiciously as she told me that the waitress wasn’t there - I’d been stood-up.

As Panama City faded away in the rear-view mirror, I reflected upon the legacy I’d left upon the place; I’d been caught sleeping in my car by the residents and had most likely been branded as a sleazeball who was concocting some documentary story in order to make home movies of HOOTERS waitresses. Despite the less-than-sterling reputation I may have developed, I had enjoyed the desolate costal strip. With the window down and B.B. King wailing through my speakers, I sped towards New Orleans........