Only In Florida #3

8. Mr. M

One of the first jobs I had here in Florida was a carpenter for a small remodeling company. It was your average family run business with only a handful of guys, most of whom were related to the owner. Other than myself, there was only one other worker that wasn’t family, and we’ll call him Mr. M.

Mr. M was the company’s primary laborer and drove the dump truck, although he didn't possess a valid driver's license. He lacked experience and knowledge of any aspect of the construction trades other than demolition and clean up, but was basically a good worker. He also looked a LOT like Joe Camel and was on community control for almost being violated for felony parole.

My first time working with Mr. M was on a remodel job of a Bay County Sheriff Deputy’s house that had been badly damaged from Hurricane Michael. They had been on the job for some time and it was close to finished. The customer and his wife were home quite often and were anxious for us to finish, as we were in the process of finishing the master bathroom.

My first day on this particular job, the owner had me finishing the tile in the shower with Mr. M as my laborer. As soon as we got there, Mr. M went straight to the family bathroom and was in there for about 10 minutes or so. Cool, at least he got that out of the way right away so I didn't have to worry about him stopping while we were working….. or so I had thought.

About an hour into the day, Mr. M. Took himself another 10 minute bathroom break. I thought nothing of it still, really. Maybe he drank a lot of coffee before work. Then, an hour later guess where free decided to go. You guessed it, another 10 minute break in the bathroom. This continued throughout the day. I was still relatively new to the company so I didn't want to say anything, but towards the end of the day I was getting irritated with it. He was slowing down progress.

“Are you ok, man? You sick?” I asked him.

“No, I'm fine. Why?” he replied with a confused look on his face.

“Well, you've been to the bathroom a lot today. You got bladder issues, throwing up?”

He chuckled a little, “No man, I've been smoking my bowls in there.”

I couldn't believe what I just heard! Did he really just say that? This guy has got some stones on him!

“You're smoking weed in a cop's bathroom?! Are you fucking serious?!”

“No, man. I don't smoke that shit. I smoke meth otherwise I won't be able to work. Gives me energy. “

Needless to say, his parole has since been revoked and he's back in prison. Welcome to Florida, I guess.

9. 90s guy.

Christina and I would routinely go to the beaches at night to clean up the trash that the tourists would leave all over the place. We didn't get paid for this, but we couldn't stand all the garbage. When we would finish up, we would go to the same gas station to get drinks. We did this overnights so our gas station visit was usually around 4 a.m.

One particular evening, the attendant had to close the store for a few minutes while he used the restroom. While waiting, we heard the hit song from the 90s “Whoop! There It Is!” playing off in the distance. We looked around, but couldn't seem to see where it was coming from. Suddenly, around the corner came our culprit.

A guy in his late 30s came rolling up on what looked to be Pee-Wee Herman’s bike from Pee-Wee's Big Adventure. As he parked his bike, I noticed his attire. He was sporting a pair a bright, 6neon, multi-colored swim trunks with the crack of his ass sticking out and I white “wife-beater" shirt that was too small for him. He then ripped off his backwards Charlotte Hornets baseball cap to run his fingers through his blonde mullet.

Once he discovered the doors were locked, he took the Marlboro Red from behind his ear, produced a zippo from his pocket, flicked it open and lit up his smoke. He then went back to his bike and grabbed a bag out from the little basket from the front of his bike. Out from this bag came a can of Mad Dog. He cracked it open and took a big drink. As he was taking this drink, he noticed that we had been watching. He took another drag of his cigarette, winked and pointed at us with a crooked grin.

You know, I’m lucky Christina didn't leave me for that stud right then and there.

10. At least he had his helmet.

While visiting a friend one evening, I stepped outside to have a cigarette. Shortly after lighting my cigarette, I was approached by another of Florida’s interesting individuals. An older gentleman came walking up to me in his bare feet. He had on a tattered white skirt and a large jacket. On his head, he wore several bandanna and an old, white hard hat with the hood from the jacket covering them all.

With his work boots in his hands, he asked me, “Is Red home?”

“Sure. Can I tell him who’s asking?” I reluctantly replied.

“My name is Brandy.”

I went in and shut the door behind me to inform my friend of his visitor. He had no idea who I was talking about, as he couldn't recall knowing a guy named Brandy that would wear a hard hat and a skirt. He told me to let him in anyway.

Upon his entry, the room instantly began to have an extremely pungent and foul smell. It smelled horribly of dirty, sweaty, men's genitals. He went immediately to the chair next to Christina and ask if he could be seated.

“I would kind of rather you didn't,” Red replied. “I’m really kind of busy.”

“Oh, I'll only be a minute,” he protested.

Seeing what was about to be sitting next to her, Christina made a protest of her own. “No man. He said he’s busy. You gotta go.”

Without hesitation, he turned and scurried out the door. As he left, he was muttering under his breath and chuckling to himself. The foul odor remained long after his departure.