The kid at the Hertz Gold checkout booth at the jetport in Orlando checked my driver’s license and nodded that I was ‘good to go’ yesterday afternoon. He asked if there were any questions I had for him, and I thought for a moment. “Is it true that The Villages has the highest rate of STD’s in the country?”

He looked at me, a bit puzzled, but he brightened as he remembered the story. “Absolutely. Watch your step, Brother.”

I nodded and drove the rented Impala out of the big concrete parking structure and into the dazzling sun-drenched Florida sunshine. And started paying tolls every couple miles. It was more nagging than a financial hit- the biggest payment was $2.50, but I don’t carry cash much anymore, and only had five George Washingtons in my battered wallet and wondered if I would wind up in the penalty-box before I got clear of the toll roads.

Accordingly, the 62 miles from the airport at Mouse World was a bit anxious, and I was never in the proper lane to stop at a liquor store and complete the provisioning process to ease my mind. Nor did I have a reservation at the hotel where the wedding party was to gather the next day. I assumed there would be plenty of down-market places along the way, or my new favorite brand, the Holiday Inn Express chain.

No dice with that, either, and I was about sixty miles into the trip when I saw the cracker-barrel Florida I remember from my days in Jacksonville turn into something completely different. Something transformational. Here is what the people who built and rule The Villages say about it:

“The Villages is an active retirement community located in sunny central Florida. Conceived over 50 years ago, our hometown has flourished under the guidance of the family who created it, our dedicated employees, and most importantly the folks who call The Villages home.”

“Our purpose always has, and always will be, “To create a retirement community where people’s dreams can come true.” We continue to redefine retirement living by offering the best in homes, lifestyle and amenities for our residents each and every day.
Visitors and newcomers alike often refer to The Villages as, “Florida’s Friendliest Hometown,” a name we gladly embrace.”

Considering what the Hertz kid confirmed for me leaving the airport, that is apparently not the only thing they embrace.
My triumphs of the afternoon included the successful aerial transit from winter to pleasant sweater-weather and finding the Winn-Dixie supermarket that features a small liquor store.

Then, with the room properly provisioned and squared away, a stroll down the waterfront (it is a pond, nothing is quite what it appears here) to Cody’s Original Roadhouse.

There isn’t really a road, just a street, and a gaggle of people suspiciously close to my own age blocked the entrance, looking vaguely confused. The joint was jammed, but I managed to slide my way past the gate-keeper to the bar, and found a place at very end, next to the drink-runners station.

I asked James- that was the young stubble-bearded bartender’s name- for a double vodka in a short glass. He was busy, as were the other three tenders attempting to meet the needs of the throng, but this being the friendliest town in America, he slowed down enough to counsel me.

“We have a short pour that is a lot like that, but it is on the Happy Hour Special. Splash of tonic and a lime with that?”

“Suits me down to the ground,” I said. In the background, a singer with a raspy voice was doing old Bob Seeger and other vintage rock tunes. Women were singing along, and I suddenly realized that old age is nothing like what I had thought all these years.

The crowd thinned immediately after Happy Hour expired at 1900 hours. The patrons drained out of the restaurant and jumped into their gold carts, many of which had full plastic curtains against the mild chill. They whizzed off into the darkness as I joined them in the darkness, walking back up the street to the hotel. I looked in the bar off the lobby, and it was deserted, though it had been quite lively when I checked in.

This old age shit is going to require some adjustment, I imagine. But I don’t imagine the Boomers would do it any other way. We have managed to transform everything we touched as a generation. Why would this be any different?

Copyright 2016 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303