A few weekends ago (before that wretched surgery) I had the opportunity to travel to Panama City, Florida for a girls-only weekend getaway. It’s the coolest thing ever around here to go to Panama City, but it’s really not that different from any beach city, just a few more bars, and a few more stalkers.
I was actually a boring friend to take on vaca, since I refused to go to the club (I’m married & loyal and some of the girls who went almost got robbed). My idea of fun was sipping wine on the balcony until 2 AM.
We stayed in a beautiful highrise condo (top floor) at the end of “the strip.” People. If you’re calling that “the strip,” then you need to get your partying butt to Las Vegas. There is no other strip.
The highrise lended a beautiful view to the ocean and the clear blue water only feet away. From our 25th floor balcony I could see schools of fish and even a sting ray sneaking through the water. The sand was soft and white, and there were minnows nibbling on my feet and ankles, which was not as fun as it sounds. It actually kinda ticked me off.
My favorite part -besides somehow scoring my own bed- was the little buggy cars for rent. I tried to rent one, but the only girl in the group who wanted to go with me may or may not have legally been allowed to drive in Florida. That said, and given my sheer respect for authority, we did not rent said buggy. Isn’t it so cute?
One night we perused shops of all sorts of unique jewelry, purses, personalized cups and mugs, hippy clothes, and even a store with over 50 flavors of popcorn. Beer popcorn? I’ll pass.
I searched up and down for the perfect bird necklace or bracelet, but could only find oversized rings, or real birds!
Panama City was a beautiful getaway, and I was greeted upon my return by a husband who missed me so much he bought me a welcome home gift: a Vera Wang perfume that melts my heart, and his. I think I’ll leave town more often!