How to get to Crystal River:
1. Commit an unpardonable sin
2. Click your cowboy boots together and say "I wish I was in hell"
3. Hwy 41 to Hwy 98 to Hwy 19. Turn right at sign that says Abandon All Hope and drive 10 more miles.
4. Lack ambition and general sense of personal hygiene.

Yes, we all love to see movies where the main character leaves the big city, comes back to their small town, falls in love with their childhood sweetheart, and decided there's no place this town. Those movie producers have never been to central Florida.

Things to do in Crystal River:
1. Leave
2. Get old, bitter, out of touch with contemporary America, and join the county commission.
3. Work for Florida Power's Nuclear Safety Team (now hiring!)

Why am I filled with such remorse when I reflect upon my wasted years in Crystal River? If you grew up in Crystal River, and don't own a gun rack...you understand.

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Actual Elvis Sighting at Crystal River High School

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VICTIMS of Crystal River speak out!
Winona in her own words:
"It was rough, man. The wild jet set crowd at Cracker's Bar and Grill. Out all night on King's Bay throwing beer cans at manatees. I was living off of Boones Farm and cheeze fries from Grannies. Fishing for mullet all weekend. All night fish fries. It dragged me down, man. Next thing you know I'm at ABC Lounge and Package Liquor singing along to the latest Clint Black song, and I knew I hit bottom.
Winona in her condo in Weeki Wachee.

Winona in rehab.



What did you do to entertain yourself?
"I actually spent a entire evening with M**** calling the Home Shopping Network trying to get on the air. We never did."
"My friends and I used to have Dr. Pepper drinking contests at Taco Bell. Afterwards we would drive around throwing up on people's lawns."
"I practiced racial and religous intolerance."
"I wrote poetry full of teen-angst, dressed in black thrift store clothes, dyed my hair strange colors, and was misunderstood" (thanks for the contribution, Pat)

"I listened to The Smiths.... A lot.... Especially the following:

Everyday in like Sunday.
Every day is silent and gray.
Hide on the promanade,
etch a postcard.
'How I dearly wish I was not here.'
Come, come, armageddon come.

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