Flora-Bama Polar Bear Dip: A 12-Year-Old's Bar & Beach Winter Adventure

The year I was in the 7th grade, Mama and Daddy became friends with a lady they worked with at Hackbarth Delivery Service named Angie. Angie was a very sweet lady of Mexican heritage who loved painting ceramic figures, a hobby my mom picked up from her. Mama loved any sort of crafts; she had learned tole painting from my classmate Kerry Ferrell's mom, Judy, years before and passed on her knowledge of tole painting to Angie.

My dad and Angie were better friends than what we all thought, but that's a story covered in my second book, if it gets published and no doubt future blog entries.

Angie was married to a biker type named Butch who was super nice. Though his name didn't really fit his stature—short and skinny but definitely rough—Butch was a cool man. He gave me my first hit of weed, and I knew even at the age of 12 that it was not for me. The smell of it reminded me of the time that I got skunked, and I just couldn't get past the odor. Every other weekend, I would stay with Angie and Butch at their house in Pensacola, riding their dirt bike and my go-cart in the area behind their house. Butch and Angie also had motorcyles, which were always fun to take a ride on.

My parents had plans for New Year's Eve and didn't want me to be alone, so they decided to send me to Angie and Butch's house on an odd weekend.

Butch had a son a few years younger than me named Chris and a daughter a few years older than me named Francine, both of whom he didn't have custody of. They would stay with him every other weekend. This was one such weekend, and I slept on the couch rather than in the room Francine stayed in during her visits.

They had all been talking about the Polar Bear Dip and how much fun it would be. I honestly didn't know what it meant, but I was all in. They made sure to tell me I needed to bring swimwear. Cool, I guess. It had been raining a little throughout the day, the high was in the 60s, but when we arrived at the bar, Flora-Bama, it was in the lower 50s.

We went inside. It wasn't the first time I had been in a bar, but it was the first time I was in a bar with other kids. Francine instructed Chris and me to secretly (not letting adults know what we were doing) look for random cups that were left around the bar that were still over half full, as well as beer cans. We found a good bit of them. Francine took it upon herself to drink from the cups with colored beverages. I chose to drink from one of the beer cans because it felt like it was barely touched. Chris' can of beer not only contained a good bit of leftover beer, but someone had obviously used it as an ashtray because his second drink from the can brought out a cigarette butt. He promptly spit it out, and I put my can down and found Angie and asked her if she could get me a Coca-Cola.

When the sparse crowd began to head out of the bar and down to the beach, we followed. Just as everyone was doing, I took my shoes, socks, and shirt off and headed into the water. It was pretty cold, but it was brown and just as dark and cloudy as the sky. I thought we were all going for a swim and that we would get used to it, but once we were all in, everyone turned around and got out. I thought there might have been a shark or something, so I followed. I was confused.

Once I got out, the cold air hit my saltwater-soaked body, and I was ready for a towel down and proper clothes. I got my shirt, socks, and shoes back on but could feel sand in my socks—a feeling I still hate. I thought we were all going to go back into the bar, but Angie and Butch headed to their truck, so Francine, Chris, and I followed them. They turned the truck heater up as far as it would go, and we were on the way to Pace, where they dropped me off before going back to Pensacola. Though it was a Thursday and I love spending weekends with Butch and Angie, I didn't car much for Chris and I didn't like sharing Angie's attention with anyone else and Francine was not really that nice to me.

I was really confused about the point of getting into the water, but apparently, I had just taken part in an annual event known as the Flora-Bama Polar Bear Dip. Did I have fun? Nope. If I were more informed, would I have done it? Nope. Would I do it again? Nope.

As an adult, I look back on that experience with a mix of amusement and bewilderment. The idea of willingly plunging into icy waters, though not exactly icy, on a cold day just doesn't appeal to me anymore. The thrill of the Polar Bear Dip is something I can appreciate from afar, but it's not an adventure I need to repeat. Some memories are best left in the past, and for me, the Flora-Bama Polar Bear Dip is one of them.

I often wonder what became of Angie and Butch after their divorce, as well as Chris and Francine. I have a vision that Francine may still be a party girl over 30 years later, and I hope they are all doing well. As I stated, I may share stories about my time with Angie before she was told that she was no longer welcome in my family's lives not too long after this day. While she was no longer welcome, she and I had some great times together.

A New Year's Eve to Remember: My New Years Kiss with a Real Boyfriend

"AI Alex" stepping into the chilly Gulf water

The following story is from the first draft of one of the books I am writing about some of my life experiences. Since it’s New Year’s Eve, I thought I would share the story of my first New Year’s Eve spent with an actual boyfriend. But before we dive into that night, I need to give you a bit of backstory.

When TK and I met in the 6th grade, we quickly became friends who hooked up more than just occasionally, but we never became boyfriends. We had an agreement that if either of us hooked up with someone else, we wouldn’t tell each other. We always played the part of the inexperienced one with new partners. However, I was searching for something more meaningful.

During my 10th grade year, I met Alex. My relationship with Alex was definitely interesting, especially with my mom being completely overbearing and overprotective. Now, let me take you through that memorable New Year’s Eve night with Alex.

Towards the end of December, Mama decided to go to Kissimmee with a friend, leaving me under the supervision of my dad. Although my sister, Becki, wasn't living with us at the time, she would still come by occasionally. Becki was very close to my dad and would visit frequently just to see him. Daddy wasn't as overbearing and didn't mind when I would come and go, as long as I wasn't hanging out with Jon Lawrence anymore and I let him know where I was going and how long I would be there.

I had informed Alex that my mom was going out of town a week before she left. On the day Mama departed for Kissimmee, Alex called me and asked if there was any way I could get away for New Year's Eve. I had no idea how I would make it happen, but I said yes and began figuring out a plan.

Alex was a great guy. I was 15, and he was 21 or 22, so the age difference didn't seem too significant to me. Besides my friends Costa and TK, I had an affinity for older guys. But to my mom, Alex might as well have been 50. She thought he was straight from the devil, out to corrupt me. Little did Mama know, a neighbor—a 40-year-old man she was friends with, and the father of a girl in my grade—had already contributed to the delinquency of her son from the ages of 9 to 12 years old.

When New Year's Eve morning arrived, I lied to Daddy and told him I was going to spend the night with my friend TK, and he was okay with that. I actually had Alex pick me up a few houses down from my place, just in case Daddy was looking out the window, which he did frequently due to being super nosey. Alex and I drove over to Fort Walton Beach from Pace and checked in at the Red Roof Inn.

Alex made sure he grabbed everything we would need: drinks, snacks, and some provisions from the adult section at Spencer's. It sounds funny now, but aside from pharmacies where you could get basic stuff like KY Jelly, Spencer's was basically the only place in Pensacola that sold lube and toys for adult activities at the time.

Alex had a friend who invited us to a party where there were no adult beverages or substances, which I really wasn't interested in at the time because I was there to enjoy my time with Alex. I wanted to be lucid and not waste our time together or forget it. We had a great time at the party, though in my mind, I just wanted to be alone with Alex.

When Alex and I left the party, we stopped off at a park by the beach and went down to hang out by the water. I love going to the beach at night; something about it has a completely different feel than the daytime, plus it seemed romantic. The outside temperature was around 46 degrees, but with the wind and the fact we were next to the water, it felt even colder. Alex actually took his shoes and socks off. I wasn't complaining because, hey, he's already stripping down for me. I think he thought it would be fun to get his feet wet, but when he stepped into the water, he quickly stepped out, drying off his feet as best he could with his sweater sleeve before putting his socks and shoes back on. While the water was most likely around 60 degrees, which is normal for the Gulf of Mexico in December, the 40-degree air probably made it seem way colder.

While I'd like to say we made out by the beach, it was far too cold for that, and I'm sure Alex's cold and sandy feet didn't help matters. We just kissed a few times on the beach before heading back to the hotel. At the hotel, we stayed up most of the night enjoying each other's company, watching basic cable and cracking up at the "flavors" of the three lubes he had bought at Spencer's, with Strawberry being my favorite. The night was incredible, and I told him I wished we had one more night to hang out. By the time the sun came up, it was over. He had to get back to work the day after New Year's Day, and I was pretty sure my dad would get suspicious if I stayed out one more night.

When I returned home, my dad already knew I wasn't where I was supposed to be. I knew I should have called TK to tell him to cover for me, but I didn't want him to know I was out with someone else, as per our agreement on not telling each other about our hookups. TK had called to wish me a Happy New Year, which tipped my dad off to the fact that I wasn't at his house. In fact, no one knew where I was, which probably upset him. But something about my dad was that he knew which battles to fight with my mom over, and I was not one of them.

Daddy told me to be honest about where I was, and I don't know why, but I told him I was with Alex and that Alex was not the person Mama thought he was. He told me he wouldn't tell my mom, but unfortunately, somehow my sister knew. My dad probably called her to ask if she had seen me, and when my mom returned, I was already ratted out.

My relationship with Alex ended a few weeks later, not because we weren't getting along—it was quite the opposite. My mom didn't want us to be involved with each other. She met Alex over coffee and threatened him, which I didn't find out about until many years later. As much as it hurt, I see the end of our relationship as a blessing in disguise because had it not ended, I probably would have never left home and never made my way to New York and experienced all the things I did from May 1992 to March 1993.

Flash forward to December 31, 2024, and Alex and I are still friends and still appreciate the great memories of our brief time together. While this wasn't the first time I enjoyed a New Year's kiss with someone, it was the first time I enjoyed one with a real boyfriend rather than TK, my friend who was just a boy.