We recently vacationed in Gulf Shores, Alabama. This Katrina-devastated tourist community is seemingly rebounding amidst skinny skeletons of salt-water-drowned and downed trees. Beaches, whose snow-white sandy doorsteps were once laced with gracefully tall, wispy sea-oats, now boast tall condominium communities standing like sentries ready to battle the next hurricane. As luck would have it, we picked the coldest weekend of the year to visit; temperatures hovered between 20-50 degrees with winds strong enough to blow your hat off. Still and all, it was an interesting place to visit as we ate our way along the seaside with Aunt Kathleen and Uncle Bob.The main route to the beach, Highway-59, tempts shore-bound travelers with eateries of all kinds from the home style mom & pop variety to common, and even not so common, franchises. We passed Lambert's Cafe, where "throwed rolls" has given this restaurant a place on the map (http://www.throwedrolls.com/). Along with car dealerships by the dozens, fisheries selling royal reds, outlet malls, souvenir shops, flea markets, and places where you can buy fabric by the pound, the road to post-Katrinaville was like most roads once traveled.
Our first night, when the temperature was still bearable, we went to Tacky Jacks, where we dined on large, steamed, red shrimp called royal reds; robust, plump, sweet and very messy, we smelled like shrimp for the rest of the night (http://www.tackyjacks.com/). Jayne was smart and ordered gator bites (which tasted more like battered-bites). The next day was rainy, gray and cold, but it was the best time to visit perhaps the most interesting of places - Stacey's Rexall Drugs and Old Tyme Soda Fountain. It's the town's oldest drugstore with an old-time soda fountain serving ice cream sodas, shakes, malts, and 10-cent coffee. That's right, you can still get a cup of coffee, and good coffee at that, for a dime! For under twelve bucks, three of us lunched on malts, tea, coffee, hot dogs and scoops of tuna, egg and chicken salad served in banana split boat. We relaxed and took in the bizarre scenery of high school kids operating a real old-time pharmacy. Aside from oddities like Anti-Monkey Butt Powder (which I just had to buy) and fantastic thick, hand-dyed T-shirts (I had to buy the one that says "Women Who Behave, Rarely Make History" see the photo above), there's 40s music on a free-to-play jukebox and a 1920s player piano. 
With the mercury dropping fast, we kept warm by shopping at the outlets and going up Highway 59 through Loxley to a farmer's market called Burris, where the vegetables ranged from fresh-picked to imported from Chile. (http://www.roadfood.com/Reviews/Overview.aspx?RefID=262). Maybe it was the frigid air that lured us to their bakery but somehow, two dangerous desserts, perfectly warmed, ended up on our trays. The apple dumplings and bread pudding smelled so good, no one could turn them down, including Aunt Kathleen! That night with the temperatures dipping into the low 30's, and the wind howling, we went to the next local attraction, Lulu's, a restaurant owned by Jimmy Buffet's sister, where the food was fun, the customers were jolly, and the atmosphere and music was done in classic Jimmy Buffet style (http://www.lulusathomeport.com/).
The third day there, the temperatures were bone-chilling cold, but that couldn't stop us from visiting the one place we really wanted to see which was the Alabama Gulf Coast Zoo, or affectionately known as the "Little Zoo That Could" (http://www.alabamagulfcoastzoo.org/). To give you an idea of how cold it was, even the bear wouldn't come out of his heat-lamp-warmed cave. The lions moved with the sunshine and sprawled in splotches of weak sunlight, the camels sat like Purdue oven-stuffer roasters, and the monkeys clumped together like stuffed animals in a F.A.O. Schwartz display. This was probably the saddest zoo I have ever seen. Having gone through three hurricanes, though, it certainly deserves its subtitle.
By mid-afternoon, Aunt Kathleen and I decided to brave the cold and ventured on a two-mile walk down the beach in search of sand dollars. We looked like Eskimos. I had on a long-sleeved shirt, a sweat shirt on top of that, a hooded sweat shirt on top of that, ear muffs, a hat and a vest and gloves. I could have used a scarf and long underware! We found one sand dollar and later took off for our last meal on the shore at DeSoto's.
We left Gulf Shores early enough to make it back to Tampa before sunset. Before we crossed from Central time to Eastern time, we decided to stop for breakfast. We turned off I-10 at Ponce de Leon and noticed a sign for Sally's Restaurant. We traveled about 2 miles before we found it and we both thought twice before entering the dirt-road parking lot. But, what the heck, we were on vacation and thought we'd be adventurous.
The inside was Pepto-Bismal-pink with mis-matched tables, chairs and silverware. Antique hutches held floral plates next to a refrigerated display case with ten-layer chocolate cakes. It should have smelled like stale cigarette smoke, but it smelled like biscuits and gravy instead. The gal who waited on us was apparently the server, cook, bottle-washer and busser. She informed us we were just between breakfast and lunch, and to order what we wanted. Jayne ordered the breakfast special and a cup of coffee, I ordered an iced-tea and a BLT as it seemed like the safest bet. Aside from us, there was a cowboy and his father at one table, and another table of interstate-weary travelers. While the father was nursing coffee, the cowboy was taking little bites out of a grilled cheese sandwich which his large, leathery hands engulfed before it reached his mouth. The server was solicitous, making sure he was happy with his mini-meal. When they left, a wilted dollar bill lay limp as her tip. I was beginning to feel sorry for the server who was cracking eggs, frying bacon, taking orders, ringing, and cleaning up after breakfast. See seemed stressed, worked hard for every tip and apologized often for being frazzled. By the time we finished our meal, which was home-good tasty, two other women surfaced to ease our server's burden, one being Sally, the owner. All along, I was figuring the owner was our server.
When it was time to go, I went to the register and waited for our over-worked waitress to ring me up. She initially put in $15.00 instead of $1.50 for my tea, but corrected it while apologizing. She then tried to remember what we ate and plugged each item into the register. While she was doing this, I thought to myself that I'd leave her a healthy tip to make up for the paltry dollar still left on the unbussed table. Our bill came to $20.08 and I gave her $25, thinking over 20% for breakfast in a small-town greasy spoon was generous enough. She was apologetic once again for my wait and with Southern hospitality, graciously thanked me for the tip.
With the taste of bacon still fresh on our tongues, we turned back on to I-10. Jayne asked me how much my sandwich cost. I said "$3.75...the bill came to $20.08......" Then, I did the math. Breakfast special: $5, coffee: $1.50, BLT: $3.75, tea: $1.50; tipping the server, priceless. The bill should have only been $11.75 plus tax! My poor pitiful waitress must have added eight bucks somewhere along the line and I never noticed, which means she got a $12.00 tip! About 20 miles down the pike, I asked Jayne to make a U-turn, but we just laughed it off. After all, I did get a 10-cent cup of coffee at Stacey's.
