I CALL THIS LOOK
FREDDIE, the undisputed King of the Florida Panhandle
Freddie was born on the Florida panhandle, raised on the panhandle, and has no plans on ever leaving the Florida panhandle. Because on that strip of American land, he’s that dude.
Everyone that knows Freddie — and trust me, everyone knows Freddie — can tell you the things Freddie cares about. He’s a simple man. He’s a man that loves order, a man that depends on his routine to survive. And not just sometimes, but every day.
Freddie lives by the beach and every morning, wakes up and takes his cats out to the ocean. He has three cats. They’re all named David. Most cats like to stay inside, but not The Davids. Freddie trained them to be Gulf Cats. This morning, like every morning, Freddie walks them out to the water, throws them into the Gulf, and drinks a tall glass of milk while The Davids fight the current, trying to make it back to shore. They always do, because they’re strong cats. Because that’s how Freddie raised them.
After his morning ritual with The Davids, he goes back inside and plots his day. The first big part of his day: walking to the Walgreens and buying a crisp white t-shirt. Freddie only wears long white tees and only wears them once. This is the only splurge in Freddie’s life — disposable tees — but as Freddie knows, there’s nothing quite like putting on a new white tee on the Florida Panhandle.
When he gets to Walgreens — shirtless — he doesn’t have to go over to the bin of tees. There’s one waiting for him at the register. Because he is always there at 10:00am, every morning, never a minute before or after.
“What’ll it be?” LaMont says to Freddie, standing behind the Walgreens register. He isn’t talking about the tee — that’s never a discussion. Every morning, Freddie picks one of two things to buy for his day out on the Panhandle: an apple or a pack of Marlboro Reds.
“The apple,” Freddie says. “Got a big evening today. After work, I’m going swimming.”
LaMont looks over the counter and sees Freddie, wearing his signature swim trunks. “You were always the best swimmer on the panhandle,” LaMont says. Freddie smiled, put on his new tee, and left him a five buck tip before exiting. To this day, Freddie is still the only person to ever tip at a Walgreens, something LaMont never took for granted.
The next six hours of Freddie’s day were the true reason the Panhandle was Freddie’s. Leaving the Walgreens, he walked two blocks to his storefront. It was called Freddie’s. And as was the case every morning, there was already a line.
Walking over to the line, there’s a small applause as he approaches. And with his keys in hand, he tips his signature brown stetson to the line, and they all say “G’morning, Freddie” nearly in unison. The reason for the line: for years now Freddie’s has been the luckiest place in the region to buy lotto tickets. So people come, from all over the Panhandle, to buy tickets, in the hopes of a jackpot. Other than lotto tickets, Freddie doesn’t sell much. Just the essentials: ice, milk, phone chargers, incense, boogie boards, popsicles, toothpaste, lawn chairs, towels, stamps, playing cards, and those portable fans. Nothing more. And for six hours, he sits there — talking to regulars, playing music, watching people’s kids if need be — whatever is necessary. And on the occasion, he’ll get into a long game of Spades that will draw a crowd.
He’s known for his card playing prowess, but only plays with a select few friends that don’t mind playing with his special deck, talking out the cards on the table, and playing a slightly slower paced game, seeing as that he’s legally blind. But when he plays, his friends are always fighting to be his partner. Because he rarely loses. Because he’s that good. And the people, they never stop coming for these games, those lotto tickets, and of course for Freddie, undisputed King of the Florida Panhandle.
