Tampa: Mecca of the Avant Garde

Those of you who once perused my long since defunct "Florida Follies" Web site may remember my cataloging of what passes for culture down here. We have, for example, the Big Daddy Don Garlits Museum of Drag Racing. Off of Highway 41 as it crosses the Everglades is, or perhaps was, the Skunk Ape Museum. And one might still observe faux mermaids performing their underwater synchronized swimming choreography at Weeki Wachee, where Johnny Weissmuller filmed his Tarzan movies.

Don't even get me started on Orlando.

Locally, my favorite newspaper columnist, Daniel Ruth, has oft times waxed poetic over the extensive collections of paper clips and belly button lint on display at Tampa's answer to New York's Museum of Modern Art. Dan'l is that rarest of human beings, a liberal with a sense of humor. I know, I know--how oxymoronic!

Despite its many attempts over the decades to transform itself into a cosmopolitan centre of the arts, Tampa is still known nationally as the nudie bar capital of the country. Neither New Orleans nor Las Vegas has anything on Tampa when it comes to pole and lap dancing.

In an effort to change its image as a T and A theme park, an advisory committee to Tampa's City Council suggested designating the Cuban as the city's signature sandwich.

"I have been to Cuba, I have been to Miami, and neither of those places serve a good Cuban sandwich," said an artist whose research into the history of the Cuban was used by the committee. "This sandwich was very influential to everybody who came to Ybor City or to Tampa in the early days of our city, starting in 1886 when Ybor City was founded."

Now, don't get me wrong. I love a good Cuban as much as the next guy. I've had them at all types of culinary establishments, from the Sand Key Columbia's to the storefront eatery around the corner from our casa, and several places in between. Can't say I've ever had a bad one, nor could I tell the difference in taste of one properly put together from one just slapped between two slices of pressed bread.

I am essentially an omnivore, not a gourmet. I did draw the line at eating bowls of noodles from the boiling pots in the back alleys of Taipei, though. You see, the water comes from the open sewer the locals call the Tamshui River. Also, no anchovies on my pizza, thank you very much. And after learning what I might have to eat to survive in the event our aircrew had to 'chute out or ditch in the jungle, I made up my mind that I was going to die. But otherwise, I'm pretty much open-minded. I just won't eat anything I can't identify.

Is this really why our elected officials are forming committees, holding meetings, seeking input from the public and calling for votes? Do they think the Cuban is going to replace the pasties and g-strings in the consciousness of tourists? Seriously?

Tampa is a city of 336,823, not counting its surrounding bedroom communities. Isn't there more important Council business than deciding which sandwich best enhances its cultural identity?

Well, if you're actually going to go this route you'll need a slogan. I suggest, "Forget Disney's Magic Mountain! Forget Universal's Harry Potter! Forget Sea World's Shamu! We have the Cuban!"

Yeah, that's the ticket. That'll have folks changing their airline reservations from Orlando to Tampa in droves.

Anybody reading this have a better one?