5/18/2023 0 Comments Beach town series mary kay andrews![]() ![]() ![]() The beach roads were clogged with BMWs and big SUVs, the highways crowded with outlet malls, convenience stores, and strip shopping centers. The houses were as colorful as the community names and oozed magazine cover potential. She'd found palm trees, yes, but also an infestation of cuteness in planned beach communities with picturesque names like Seaside, Rosemary Beach, and Watercolor, which hugged both sides of the road on 30A and reeked of taste and money. She'd landed in Panama City three days earlier.īefore leaving L.A., she had browsed the Florida film and television commission website, which featured photos of every imaginable kind of scenery in the state, from the dark brown ribbon of the Suwannee River lazing through the northern edge of the state, to the green pastures of Ocala horse farms, all the way down to the funky conch cottages and banana palms of the Florida Keys.ĭay one of her journey, she'd taken one look at the wall-to-wall high-rise hotels and condo towers lining Panama City Beach and headed west on US 98, and then over to 30A. Instead, the only trees she spied through the bug-spattered windshield of her rented Kia were part of an endless wall of tall spindly pines, underplanted with miles of palmetto clumps. And was it too much to ask for a Panavision wide shot of a sun-kissed beach? Wasn't this Florida? She needed Technicolor green fronds swaying in wind machine-enhanced breezes, with some Dolby-sound crashing waves. ![]()
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