I'm not one opposed to revelry and good times.
The rambunctious fun of Tampa's Gasparilla Pirate Invasion and Pirate Parade offers an appeal that I totally get. I've stood on Bayshore Boulevard calling out for beads, attended a few early morning mimosa mixers, gotten stuck on Davis Islands and watched from the Platt Street Bridge as party boats immerse in sun-splashed joy.
It's all good to me, but if, by chance, you seek a more laid-back atmosphere, an event enveloped in small-town, homespun sentiment and relaxing cool, let me suggest the 21st annual Kumquat Festival in Dade City.
I discovered a few years ago that these traditional events both occur on the last Saturday in January. And they're both fun. And they're both different.
Downtown Dade City, especially with a crowd frolicking around arts and craft vendors selling old school goods, represents a chance to step back in time. Sure, there's live music and an announcer on the PA system, but even with modern accompaniments, it's serene.
On my visit a few years back, time slowed and the rush of the 21st century gave way to thoughts of Andy, Opie and Aunt Bee.
And then, there's the kumquats.
Generally speaking, it's not the citrus fruit you crave over all others. In fact, I've heard some describe kumquats as the orange's cousin that he never invites over for the holidays.
But I think it gets a bad rap. First of all, you don't peel it, like I used to try to do when I was a kid. You eat it whole, with the peel, but not before preparing your senses for a sweet-sour burst.
And fear not if you don't like it, because the good people of Dade City have figured out how to make every kind of delicious dessert out of the kumquat.
It may be difficult for some to imagine anyone from Tampa giving up the revelry of Gasparilla for the Kumquat Festival. Just the suggestion might prompt a few Tampanians to make you walk the plank.
But I'm reminded a bit of the old television show Green Acres. The main character, Oliver Douglas, traded Times Square for fresh air and chose farming over being a big-city attorney.
I couldn't do the complete lifestyle change, but for a day, it's not crazy to think old Florida charm is a welcome relief to big-time partying.
That's all I'm saying.