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Slogans. We use them to sell everything from automobiles to Zambonis. I realize that Zamboni is the brand name of a machine that resurfaces an ice rink and not a category of product. But I couldn't use zipper as an illustration as none of the zipper people have a slogan. Zamboni’s slogan is “nothing else is even close” in case you’re wondering.
States have slogans, too. I guess that’s because all the politicians have them for their campaigns so it’s only fitting that they have one for the states they govern. After the first state did this it only made sense the rest would follow. No doubt they were afraid all their citizens would pick up and move just because some other state claimed to be the “cumquat state”. You can see why people would just up and leave their home, family, friends, and job for something so enticing.
A slogan should represent an item, action, or event that’s unique to the state it represents. In the case of Florida, I have a suggestion based on first-hand observation. During a trip to our hideaway on 30A, we stopped into a grocery store. We needed to stock our beach bunker with food, in my case that would be store-brand chocolate chip cookies and bottled water. No matter how they treat their tap water it always tastes like sulfur to me.
It was a Saturday, which along 30A is known as “transition day”. No really. It actually says that on their calendars. That’s when the previous week’s renters depart and the next invading army rolls in. If you have ever wanted to know what it will be like if Dooms Day arrives, go to a 30A grocery store on transition day. It’s an unbelievable event that can’t be missed. Sort of like running with the bulls in Pamplona. The locals avoid it if they can. Should they have to go on transition day, they don’t bring their children for fear of emotionally scarring them.
Upon walking in the door, it was clear the store had prepared for the invading hordes. We had to navigate around a huge display of beer. Actually a wall or maybe a rampart would be more accurate. Turning right and making our way to the produce section, we had to hike around a pyramid of brew. In fact, I counted no less than five large monoliths of suds. Equally interesting is how quickly the walls eroded while we were there. Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against people drinking beer. I’m fine with it as long as they don’t drive afterwards and avoid saying “hey watch this”. We all know something stupid and often painful follows that phrase. I even slipped a six-pack into our cart, but compared to the other shoppers I looked like a choir boy.
I stood in awe as people on one side of the walls tore them down 12-pack by 12-pack. They were a relentless sea washing way a large dune. While on the other side of those walls, stockers quickly stacked more beer as though they were sandbagging a levy in hopes of keeping flood waters out.
One year when we were there, there was an extended family next to us on the beach. The two dads did nothing but drink beer and play in the surf. Occasionally they would call to one of their offspring, “hey bring me another” and out the young ones would wade with a refill. By afternoon they were sunburned and snoozing under their tent. Considering the tint of their skin and the likely hangover, I figured they’d pull it back a notch the rest of the week. But no.
The next morning I had to make a run to the store for a few items before breakfast. There they were with two carts. One with food. The other loaded with brew. Later that day and nearly every day that week, they were at it. Wow. Not even college kids on spring break have that kind of stamina.
Recalling this as I witnessed transition day at the grocery store this year, it hit me. The Sunshine State isn’t an accurate description. Granted it is true. The sun does shine there, but can’t all states claim that? After all the sun does shine on all of them. It seems Alaska could make that claim in a bigger way since the sun shines almost nonstop for half the year. I guess the rest of the year it could be the state of darkness, but that isn’t likely to bring many tourists.
So, wouldn’t it be more accurate to say,“Florida, the alcohol-induced state”? They could change the state song to “Pop-a-Top” by Alan Jackson.
More reflectons from our recent venter to 30-A coming in my next blog.
