Laughing Matters: The One About Florida Man

By Ryan G. Van Cleave |  Illustrations by Darcy Kelly-Laviolette

One of my buddies from up north (Atlanta) saw an Internet story about anti-Trump messages being painted on the underbelly of Florida crabs. He asked if I knew anything about this person named “Florida Man” who was allegedly doing it.

I told him, “Yes. I know exactly who’s doing it. It’s my neighbor. His name is Bob.”

Spoiler: It is NOT my neighbor, Bob, any more than it’s my other neighbor Bob (to my left, not to my right—stay with me now—they have the same first name). Florida Man is every man willing to play his part in being the World’s Worst Superhero, potential Darwin Award winner, and/or just Perpetrator of Weird Stuff suitable to fill that pages of the sequel to Craig Pittman’s fine book (reviewed a few months back right here in Sarasota Scene!) Oh, Florida: How America’s Weirdest State Influences the Rest of the Country.

While I didn’t personally experience the crab-painting fiasco, I have run into Florida Man in a host of ways recently. None of these made the news—that I know of—but all are 100% true-as-mud stuff I saw while trying to mind my own business here in the strange state I’ve called home for a decade.

Florida Man Incident One

On my way to work yesterday, I passed one of the zillion gas stations we enjoy here in sunny Sarasota. I don’t typically make a point of taking my eyes off the road to randomly peer at such places, but for whatever reason, I did. Florida Man was there, facing the side of the building in a stance I recognized. It’s the wide-kneed, pants-halfway-down position one assumes after drinking, say, eleven Pabst Blue Ribbons beers and you just can’t hold it in any longer.

A guy in a pickup in the left lane decides he has to cut into mine for no reason, so I laid on the horn to get this goober to stop being a goober and avoid an accident. He did. But Florida Man took my honking as me heckling him. He turned and shook a fist—and much more—at me. 

It gets worse. A cop in the other lane starts to slow down. Florida Man incorrectly deduces that the cop might hop the median and come roaring after him instead of pulling into a fast food joint (which he did).

So, Florida Man runs up the street the opposite way the cop was going, without bothering to deal with his “hanging loose” situation that row upon row of northbound traffic got an eyeful of.

Florida Man Incident Two

The other day, near the corner of Fruitville and Beneva, Florida Man was sitting on a folding chair, waving at all west-moving traffic. Nothing too weird about that, right?

Oh, did I mention? He was wearing a top-to-bottom bear suit. Fangs, claws, and all.

Plus, he had a fishing pole. And he was using it. In the grass at his feet.

I debated hollering “Getting any bites?” out the window of my car, but decided not to poke the bear, so to speak.

Florida Man Incident Three

Last Thursday was Halloween, and in my neighborhood, a 40-something-year-old version of Florida Man was trick-or-treating right along with all the little kiddos. His costume? Cutoff jeans, and a black t-shirt covered in strips of silver duct tape. 

Irate Mom: Just what the blazes do you think you’re dressed as?

Florida Man: I’m Mike.

Irate Mom: And what type of Halloween costume is this?

Florida Man: It’s Halloween? I just saw people’s was giving away candy.

Florida Man Incident Four

The shaggy-bearded guy who lingers at the intersection of Bee Ridge and Cattlemen alternates between these three signs, depending on the day of the week.

I accept cash, credit, and Paypal, but no checks without ID.

Need $$$ to fuel private jet.

Gargamel kidnapped my family. Need money to hire smurfs for revenge.

So, there you have it. Florida Man is thriving right here in our own little corner of paradise. I’ll be sure to pass the good word on to my up-north buddy. And who knows? Maybe Florida Man really is my neighbor Bob. Or my other neighbor, Bob. 

Or maybe he writes for Sarasota Scene magazine. . . 

* * *

Have your own post-midnight incident with Florida Man? Ever BEEN Florida Man yourself, if just for a moment? Know where I—or my Atlanta buddy—might find Florida Man in his native habitat, ready to engage insome Florida-Man-style tomfoolery? Want to tell me that Florida Man’s just an urban legend, like Bigfoot, the Skunk Ape, and Velveeta cheese?

If you can answer yes to any of the above, go ahead and reach out to me via email at FloridaManForever@sarasotascene.com. I’ll have my people reach out to your people and maybe we’ll set up a meeting—bear costumes optional.