St Pete Beach

Micah and I decided this year we needed a vacation, just the two of us.  So, as continued punishment for failing to complete the duties assigned to him as we planned our wedding and honeymoon, I left all the planning and booking up to him.  I vowed to do nothing but show up to the airport at whatever specified time necessary.  And that's exactly what I did.

Only it wasn't just the two of us.  We have a new friend that joined us on our trip.  His name is Möl, he is from Sweden, and he is a snake.  He first made an appearance in our coffeemaker when my mom came to visit.  Then, he managed to wrap himself around the vacuum cleaner and later slithered his way into a pitcher full of tea.  He ended up in Florida by stowing away in our beach blanket, surprising Micah our first day on the beach.

Not one to hold a grudge, Micah allowed Möl to join in our vacation fun and what says vacation better than Cheez-Its?  Nothing.

I decided Möl needed a taste of the high life and took him to Madfish where he rattled his way onto Micah's entree (with the help of two very bored servers).

And on and on it went.  At first, Möl was just a source of entertainment (and a really good way to annoy one another) but on the third day of our trip, he saved our lives.  Here's the story:

We were on the beach reading our books and decided it was time for lunch.  We had a couple of sandwiches and a box of Cheez-Its in our beach bag ready to go.  No big deal, right?  I mean, growing up we went on vacation every summer and I distinctly remember having a sandwich or two on the beach without incident.  Clearly, my parents never took us to St. Pete Beach.  This beach has the most aggressive, violent birds I've ever encountered.  (The duck at Burdette Park who chased me around the pond when I was 7 comes in a very close second).  As soon as Micah pulled out his corned beef sandwich he had a bird hovering over his shoulder waiting for the perfect moment to snag the lunch right out of his hands.  It looked something like this:

I screamed like a little girl, causing the people around us to laugh and the aerial attack to switch focus to me and my peanut butter sandwich since I was obviously the weaker human of our group.  One bird quickly became 100 (okay, maybe 8) and all I could hear was their evil cawing and the beating of their wings around my head.  I ducked and dove but couldn't shake them.  Micah used this opportunity of freedom to hide his sandwich back in the bag, but I wasn't so lucky.  Knowing I had a back up in the bag, I threw my sandwich as far away from our stuff as I could and curled up in the fetal position.  The birds followed the sandwich and left us alone.  Once the coast was clear and I stopped hyperventilating, we resumed lunch.  Only this time we had security.

Besides being attacked by flesh-eating sandwich-loving seabirds, the vacation was a good one.  We even went paddleboarding!  My experience was slightly more successful than Micah's.

And, for the record, we attempted to continue training but within the first mile running on the beach I stepped in a hole in the sand and twisted my ankle.  Oh well, vacations are meant for eating and lazing not exercising.