Antiquing in Crystal River

Crystal River Day One

We were greeted by a sign reading, "Your husband called and said you could buy anything you want."

Not this time, antique store. There wouldn't be any ludicrous spending on my— was that a treasure chest? I have never needed anything like I needed that treasure chest. It was coming home with me for sure. My wife and I decided it wasn't the right move for us. I decided it was too big to get into the car without her noticing. We were antiquing. My wife got away with that being our first stop because there was a brewery between the two antique stores.

The brewery was inside a classic Irish Pub. It was traditional, from the signage to the proper Guinness pouring— which was up to my Guinness brewery-trained wife's standards. The brewery only made 1 barrel of each beer. I ordered something called Squirrel Chaser to my wife's disdain. She wanted it but refused to copy me. She settled for a Manatee Milk Stout. My chocolate, peanut butter beer tasted exactly like a Reese's Cup. A gentleman at the bar called out, "Are you two in town for the beer festival?"

"We are now."

The second antique store was not as interesting. Lacking treasure chests and funny signs: we went to lunch.

We checked in at The Plantation on Crystal River. The lively bunch at the front desk welcomed us and explained the grounds. Many sporting areas were available. Tennis, Horseshoes, Giant Chess, Giant Checkers, Air Hockey, Foosball, Croquet—stop. Of course, I'm going to play Croquet. "I'll take the sticks, please."

"They're called mallets."

The balls were random colors. One was larger than the others. "Do you know what you're doing," asked my wife?

"Obviously," I said while I looked in the bag we received.

The bag had a sheet of paper with the instructions— I immediately threw that aside and watched a YouTube video. Using the mallet, you hit the balls through the hoops. Simple enough. One of the hoops wasn't in the ground the whole way. Luckily, I had a mallet. I hammered it back into place. Blue and black balls were one team; red and yellow were the other. Whatever you say, Croquet. We found out that my wife is awful at Croquet. We played two times, and she only beat me twice. I took my beating like a true gentleman and went to the bar.

The hotel bar had a mixed drink special that was 32oz of coconut rum, mango rum, light rum, pineapple rum, orange rum, a splash of orange and pineapple juice— with a float of dark rum. They asked if I was interested, but I told them it would ruin my plans to be alive later that evening. I settled for a beer and bumped into a couple of friends. Friends? We were far away. What were they doing here?

"I had a work thing in the area." That story checks out, and they joined us. We had dinner plans at 9 pm. They were changed from 7 pm the following evening when fate called.

"Hello, this is fate. There is a beer festival in town."

We moved our plans and needed to kill some time. I ordered a $6 beer, and my friend got a $6 flight. Could you cancel my order? I ordered a $6 flight. My wife had a wine flight, and her friend— is on a cleanse. Ugh. My wife regretted choosing wine and shouldn't have trusted this place's wine selections. Their beers were just fine.

At dinner, my wife couldn't decide which white wine to order. The server brought out a taste test for her. She got to sample two without knowing the varieties. I wanted a red, and she wanted a white, so we compromised and got white. The one she preferred was a Sauvignon Blanc. I used my wine snob voice to place her order, so it sounded like sobinignibngion baaaalanccckkk. I ordered the roast half duckling. It had a recommended wine pairing of Pinot Noir, so I let our eccentric server talk me into having a glass ready. My wife ordered the 16oz steak with absolutely no regard for wine pairings.

After dinner, we were told, "We have a Guinness Draft Beer Float." Why isn't that on my table already? My wife got some 4-dimensional chocolate cake— what was it? Flourless chocolate cake. It had a candle in it for her recent birthday.

Back at the hotel, I grabbed a bottle of wine from the downstairs bar. A glass got poured, but not drunk. Someone had a long day. Tomorrow we would face nature's most ferocious predator—the manatee— the animal, not the milk stout.