Driving from the southeast corner of Florida northward, there comes a point in the north-central portion of the peninsula where hills appear. For most people, hills probably aren’t that big of a deal – but for a couple of south Floridians, they are.

We don’t have hills in the southern part of the state – unless you count the overpasses that cross I-95. Beyond those paved arches, it’s flat, from sea to shining Gulf.

The other difference isn’t as noticeable because it’s all happening beneath the surface. Florida exists on a foundation of limestone and dolomite, two types of rocks that are easily – by easily, I mean, over millions of years – dissolved by rainwater.

In south Florida, the limestone and dolomite are deeper underground. In the central and northern parts of the state, however, the rocks are closer to the surface, making them more vulnerable to rainwater and dissolving. As a result, this part of the state is more likely to have underground caverns filled with water, springs emerging at the surface, and sinkholes.

While many of these areas are protected and enjoyed by kayakers, paddle boarders, and manatees – the springs are a constant 74 degrees – the most famous, Weeki Wachee Springs State Park, has the deepest known freshwater cavern system in the country. It’s no wonder Seminole Indians first settled in the region, and why mermaids have called it home since 1946.

It was then that a Navy-trained diver, Newton Perry, stumbled upon the springs. By then, many of the waterways had been turned into a dumping ground for rusted cars and appliances.

Newt, however, cleaned it up and experimented with various kinds of breathing apparatus. By October 1947, he had built an 18-seat underwater theater (the first of its kind) and a mermaid show was born.

In time, the attraction grew more popular – so much so that ABC Television took note, purchased the property, and built a larger underwater theater 16’ below the springs’ surface.

This brings us to present-day Weeki Wachee.

Joe and I were excited to see the show. We had first planned this trip for April 2023 to celebrate my 60^th birthday in the most corny and hokey way – but Nature had other plans and drowned Fort Lauderdale with 26” of rain in a single day. (In hindsight, a mermaid tail could have come in handy). Needless to say, we cancelled that trip to tend to flooding issues.

Like sirens from Greek mythology, the mermaids kept calling us northward, and our 36^th anniversary seemed like the perfect time to make the drive.

As excited as we were to see the show, I have to admit our expectations were low. There’s a fear with many roadside attractions from the past that time may not have been kind to it.

We were very wrong. In fact, we were incredibly and pleasantly surprised by the whole experience.

Yes, there are criticism of the objectification of women, sexism (not a merman in sight), and racism (not a mermaid of color in sight) – but in no way do I want any of this to take away from the absolute wonder of it all.

At the top of the list is the sheer athleticism of the mermaids. To be able to breathe via an air hose, to lip sync and “dance” while not getting tangled in that air hose, and to drink a bottle of soda – all while underwater – is no easy feat, not that I’ve ever tried to do any of those things. I’m very much aware of my limitations.

The show itself had also been updated. Once upon a time, it had been based on underwater re-enactments of children’s classics, such as Alice in Wonderland. In the show we saw, there’s a nod to environmentalism, with the mermaids warning audience members, adults and children, of the dangers of fertilizers and pesticides on the mermaids’ home in the springs.

At the end of the day, we had a great adventure – our first in years. It felt like a home-cooked meal, something warm and comforting and nostalgic in a world that makes less and less sense.

Besides, how many other shows are you able to watch with an actual manatee just hanging out in the background?