Fort Lauderdale, I love you. Well, maybe not love…but I sure do like you a hell of a lot. But I think I’m beginning to lose some respect for you. Once you were the exciting, everything goes kind of town…like the happy-go-lucky kind of place everybody wanted to party in, be it spring breakers to sun-worshipping touristas, all with loads of cash and eager to tuck into your bikini bottom while you danced and pranced, all the while swaying and swinging your fun-loving little tush to and fro in the face of your uptight neighbors Miami, to the south, and Palm Beach, to the north. Then, years later, it all kind of went down hill. It wasn’t a seismic disaster of a change…no, it was more of a subtle change, a gradual downturn that most people didn’t see coming.
Fort Lauderdale: what happened to you?
You stripped off your façade and got a facelift. You built more and more condos and created a vast wasteland of over-priced buildings to attract more and more of the wrong type of people; you turned your back on your partying ways and suddenly decided to go chic and sophisticated on us. Nice try. Fort Lauderdale, for all your beauty, you’ve turned into a bloated, decrepit excuse for a sun-baked town. The party is over, for the most part. Sure, you enjoy fun in the sun and cocktails, but only in moderation. You tell everyone to keep the noise down at night; you build posh hotels to attract God-knows who to your shores and then complain when you can’t get a table at your favorite restaurant. You’re the tacky Hawaiian shirt, the black socks with white loafers, the early bird special lining up at the cheap diner with the rest of your survivors. I hope you see yourself for what you really are and do something to make a change…any change, for the better. But still, Fort Lauderdale, warts and all, I’m still a big fan…though not as much as I used to be.
Take two curious spirits (emphasis on spirits) who have an insatiable appetite for traveling this big, blue orb; add in a child-like fascination for experiencing food and drink amongst like-minded friends and strangers alike…and the end result is a Wanderlush. Okay, you’re probably scratching your head right now, thinking what the $*&@ is a Wanderlush? It has no formal definition (at least none published, according to us.) And it’s not just a name: it truly is an ideal…a way of life that shakes off the mortal coil of the everyday. It flies in the face of the mundane and thumbs its finger at mediocrity. You may already be one yourself, or know people who embody this principle. Well, step up to the web page and throw off all inhibitions and semblances of attitude. No, friends and dedicated readers…this page is for the wine aficionados, mixed drinkers and beer lovers alike. Snobs and slobs, you may ask? Hell no. And if you enjoy a nice beverage before, during and after enjoying a good meal, be it a simple snack, appetizer—or a full-on lunch dinner or midnight buffet, then you really are a highly evolved Wanderlush. Think of this page as required reading for your own Wanderlush adventures…the anti-travel guide for the travel guide impaired. You’ll read about great spirits worth trying, foodie adventures worth exploring and places you may know, or think you know, but will be seeing for the very first time—or in a whole new light. Now mind you, we Wanderlushes enjoy ourselves responsibly, so should you. If what you read in this blog doesn’t excite you or pique your curiosity, oh well. Teetotalers need not read further. However, if you have the spirit, the yearning and the desire to expand your horizons, then raise your glass, mug, snifter or flute…and join us loyal Wanderlushes everywhere in a massive, collective toast. FYI: we’re still working on a memorable toast, so until then just enjoy the read.