So I was in one of the many gift shops in Bradenton Beach, buying more shit for my niecelings and nephlings which I now have no idea how I’m going to get home, when I overheard someone ask something about the location of some festival. Hmm. Ears perked, I asked the nice lady at the counter which festival that might be. ‘Oh, the seafood festival. In Cortez, just across the bridge. Can’t miss it.’
Mmmm. Seafood festival. I was still kinda full from the heavenly sweet & savory crepes I had just devoured at the legitimately French creperie just off the pier, but I felt pretty confident that I could work up an appetite.
I had, after all, just that morning, walked along the shallows of the Gulf of Mexico, which was like walking through a seafood platter . . . sea urchins and oysters and crabs, oh my! One fella had managed to scoop up a baby octopus, which he was generously showing around to not only his own kids, but all the kids on the beach. Nothing is more delightful, by the way, than small children discovering sea creatures. (I include myself in the “small children” category, in spirit.)
So I dropped off my loot in my hotel room (I relocated on Friday from the Tradewinds Resort to two doors down to their sister resort, the Tortuga Inn, after deciding, nope, I was not ready to go home yet. I have a lovely room with a garden view, not one but two rocking chairs, and a bidet in the bathroom, yehaw!). An aside . . . I’ve never quite understood the mechanics or purpose of the bidet, so I have just Wickipediaed it, and found some rather fascinating information . . .
Bidets are primarily used to wash and clean the external vulva and the anus, as well as the skin near these areas, including the perineum. They may also be used to clean any other part of the body; they are very convenient for cleaning the feet, for example. Despite appearing similar to a toilet, it would be more accurate to compare it to the washbasin or bathtub. In fact, the bidet is used by some for a baby bath, though there are some who recommend against this.
Users who are unfamiliar with bidets often confuse a bidet with a urinal, toilet, or even a drinking fountain. The user should use the toilet before using the bidet; its purpose is to wash afterwards. It is generally understood that the user should sit on a bidet facing the tap and nozzle to clean the genitalia, or with their back to the tap and wall to clean the anus.
Well geewillickers, who knew all that?!?
Anywho, enough about genitalia bathing. Off to the seafood festival!!! Crossed over the bridge to Cortez, which is a really really really old fishing town & still chock full o locals. In theory there were manatees in that there water under that there bridge to Cortez, but once again, I didn’t spot any sea cows. 
Wow. Seafood festival. Not hard to find, as it seemed everyone on the island of Anna Maria was there, or headed there, so I just followed the crowd until I got to the $2 entry fee booth & got my “grouper” hand stamp.
Now, most people I’ve run into here on the island are either 80 or 8, but here, drinkin $2 cups of Bud Light while slurpin down oysters on the half shell, sucking the meat out of spicy crawfish, and picking ’round the bones of smoked mullet (the fish, not the hairstyle), were the 18-30 crowd.
Naturally, this made me want to leave. But then I found my way to the sound stage, got myself a 1/2 dozen oysters, and plopped down on a bench. Besides, I knew I wasn’t leaving until I had a whole lotta seafood in my belly, so that was that.
After enjoying the local band, and I wish I could post the video here but I apparently do not have the right format or something to upload it, I wandered into the beer-drinkin fray and found my way to the animal tent. (Again, another very amusing video was taken with my phone, featuring some apathetic turtles, funky chickens, a thirsty goose, and some other animal tent inhabitants.) But here I will share the pictures I did manage to take . . .
And yes, if you are wondering, that pig is in fact scratching his ass on a turtle.
More wandering. Lots of crafty tents. Spent most of my time & effort trying really hard not to buy any more sea turtle paraphernalia, as I had already used up my sea turtle luggage space allotment. 
Enjoyed the funny lookin blowfish in the mini-aquarium (too mini for manatees, sigh). And then, and then good people, I did not find Jesus, but I did find the Jesus Tent, complete with some tall fellow, one of the brothers in the quartet, belting out the lowest bass notes I’ve ever heard; glory hallelujahing aplenty; sunlight streaming down in godlike fashion upon my heathen head; and a crib, which I can only assume was for the sweet baby Jesus himself, cuz weren’t no earthling babes occupyin it.
Well, I mean really. What’s left after the Jesus Tent? I knew it was almost time to scoot on home, partly because I figured nothing could top the Jesus Tent, but mostly because I kinda had to pee and didn’t want to use the port a potty.
the hell kinda fish mullet is). Got sidetracked by some disappointing etufe, and finally decided to get myself one o them $2 Bud Lights, find a shady spot to sit in (for it had blossomed from “pleasantly warm” to “jesus hell it’s hot out” over the course of the past 24 hours), listen to some tunes for a spell, then grab me a mess o crawfish for the road.
And once again, good people, little chickens, dear friends, I am saddened that I cannot figure out how to post videos here, for it means I can only tell you about the Sunshine Express Cloggers, and email it to you at your request. The Cloggers are a very earnest, though very badly costumed group, of which the youngest member is probably in her late 40s or early 50s, the oldest, I dare not guess at, and not a one of ‘em should have been wearing those highly unflattering short white flouncy skirts, but there you are. (Note to Carmy: I think I saw Gradma Lila in the back row. Does she lead a secret double life as a Sunshine Express Clogger? I’d believe it.)
Sated with beer and clogging, I decided I was done with the seafood festival. I handed over my last 8 food tickets for a gigundous container full of spicy crawfish, headed back over the bridge, dropped of my gigundous container full of spicy crawfish, and scooted across the street just in time to enjoy my final Floridian sun set . . . (for now) . . .
The End.
