Sayonara From Tampa Bay

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Good news, everybody: My Wi-Fi just came on! …Just in time for us to evacuate. (That’s right: Over the last 10 days, your faithful reporter has been uploading his articles via his smartphone’s hotspot — how’s that for dedication? You’re welcome, America.)

As you might’ve guessed, I’m not a Florida Man — I’m a Tampa Man. And yes, there’s a difference: A Florida Man is a country-fried meth-head who skins gators and stabs you in the eye if you say Subway’s subs are better that Publix’s. (Of course, he’s right about that.) They’re a wily breed; the fringiest of the fringe. Florida Man never lasts too long in your orbit, but he’s kinda fun while he does. 

By contrast, a Tampa Man is far more refined. We drink Yuengling from a glass (surrounded by a koozie, of course). And we know how to have fun. Tampa Bay is where America goes when Vegas is too obvious. 

Not to brag, but:

Beautiful beaches! Spectacular sunsets! Night clubs (and, uh, *other* kinds of clubs) galore! We’ve got the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel & Casino — the sixth largest casino in the world! (It’s where white people pay reparations to the Natives.) If you can’t have fun here, you’re hopeless.

All the biggest events, too: We hosted the Republican National Convention in 2012 (I forget if we won or not). Multiple Super Bowls. Stanley Cups. World Series. Even a WrestleMania — and to Florida Man, it absolutely, 100% doesn’t get any bigger than THAT.

Lots of pro wrestlers live here (or used to live here), too. Not sure why, but old stars and current ones are everywhere. Hulk Hogan, quite naturally, is the most famous, but Ric Flair, Randy Savage, John Cena, Ricky Steamboat, Brian Blair (who became a local politician) — everyone in Tampa has met at least one of ‘em.

For a little while, Winter the Dolphin was probably more famous than Hulk Hogan, but sadly, Winter died and went to Fishy Heaven. So I think the “Most Famous Mammalian in Tampa Bay” crown is back on the bald head of the Hulkster… brutherrr.

Tampa Bay’s talk-radio wars defied description. One day I’ll do a column about the bloodbath between Bubba the Love Sponge and Todd Schnitt, but trust me: If they ever make a movie about what happened, it would be the funniest comedy of all time. There were disgusting allegations, lawsuits — and lawyers (plural!) getting disbarred. Great stuff!

But you poor saps missed out on the whole thing. Well, that’s what you get for not living here. Serves you right.

Emeril Lagasse once told me that New Orleans and Tampa Bay have the two greatest culinary traditions in the United States. At least, I think that’s what he told me: It was 14 years ago and my memory is foggy. But I know the quote was published in a magazine I own (I coordinated the interview)… but alas, I cannot check the magazine to verify anymore: It was just destroyed in the flooding of Hurricane Helene.

Been a rough few days in Tampa Bay.

We’re no strangers to hurricanes. Each year, we get two or three of ‘em. And more often than not, it’s just a lot of wind and rain — and an excellent excuse to meet your neighbors and drink yourself silly. (Tampa Bay hurricane parties are legendary.) OK, maybe when it’s over, the streets will be swamped and the power KO’d for a little while, but we know this drill: DeSantis is doing an exceptional job at the moment, but over the 20 years I’ve lived here, all the Florida governors were exemplary during natural disasters. 

It’s kind of like snowstorms in northern cities: Our infrastructure is ready to rock and roll because everyone’s been to this rodeo a zillion times before.

But Helene shocked us. Nobody had seen this level of flooding before.

Yours truly knew his home was in trouble when catfish started swimming by his garage. By the time Helene came and went, we had five feet of flooding and lost all three of our cars. (Including a beautiful Italian girl named Giulia who never hurt anybody and only wanted to make me happy.) We were told it was a once-in-a-century event.

And now, less than two weeks later, we’re getting another one-on-a-century event. Oh, how wonderful.

Very shortly, the Pinsker family will be evacuating. Hurricane Milton is just too scary. The worst-case scenario will be a storm surge 4+ feet higher than Helene’s. 

Not sure if my house can handle that.

But in the meantime? Woohoo!! Kids are quiet: Wi-Fi is back!

You gotta take your victories where you can.