Majesty Building, 123 E. Central Parkway, Altamonte Springs
They call it "The I-4 Eyesore," as if the rest of Orlando is some kind of architectural wonder. As if that building sullied the miles of soul-killing stroads, pastel stucco strip malls and bland vacuous nothing of downtown's unremarkable skyline. Sure, the ol' Eyesore is an easy target, out there by its lonesome in Altamonte Springs, its eyesoriness visible for miles around, perpetually under construction and bankrolled by easily duped christofascists. Fair enough. But to act like it's some kind of anomaly here — where so many developers with more money than taste have all but ruined so much of Central Florida's unique natural beauty with their hideous developments ... it betrays an unearned smugness as obnoxious as those living here who persist in the delusion that a climate of swampass for seven or eight months out of the year is some kind of Pure Unadulterated Utopian Paradise.
As they say, it's a man's world. That's why Orlando Girls Rock Camp is essential as a place reserved just for female, non-binary and trans youth to find their voices through artistic expression in a world not tilted in their favor. Open to campers ages 8-17, the amazing OGRC group are doing foundational work and making a direct difference at the critical and formative school years, where life trajectories are often determined. But more than just inspiring the next wave of creatives, they're building the next generation of empowered individuals in a space that's purposefully safe, inclusive and supportive. Yes, OGRC is fun, unique in our city and legitimately cool. But it's also necessary, with impacts that are both immediate and future-shaping.
With the completion of I-4 Ultimate, the multibillion-dollar "silver bullet" for Orlando's traffic problems, it's clear that until Orange County legislators invest in public transportation, I-4 will continue to frustrate us all. As testimony, we present our "favorite" exit (read: most frustrating): the Lee Road off ramp. It takes the cake with one of the most head-scratching, counterintuitive designs ever, causing drivers to perform daring acrobatics with their vehicles that would put Fast and Furious stunt drivers to shame. While it always raises our blood pressure, it also reminds us to take a deep breath, crank up the music and embrace the absurdity. Who needs that kind of stress when Florida, the road rage capital of the U.S., allows permitless carry? It may be safer to let the traffic madness pass than risk bumping into a hangry driver packing heat.
The Orange County government's Office of Tenant Services officially launched in March to help assist local landlords and tenants, as well as to enforce local tenant protections (e.g. a "tenant bill of rights") that have since been wiped out by a new, industry-backed state law. Womp womp. Even still, the office itself is still open, generally to offer referrals for legal or rental assistance, or to provide mediation for landlord and tenant issues. If you've got a question about landlord or tenant rights in Orange County, they're our best (and only?) dedicated resource on this topic to hit up.
201 S. Rosalind Ave., ocfl.net
We all know how aesthetic the brick roads of Winter Park or the coconut drinks at the Lake Eola Farmers Market can be, but if you want to take stellar shots that you haven't seen all over your IG feed before — head to the streets of Historic Downtown Sanford. Whether you're posing in front of the charming Ritz Theater marquee, or practicing your best "Singing in the Rain" twirl around the clock tower, you're sure to stun on screen. Take a walk around the streets of the little city and you'll find dozens of murals to snap that will frame you like the work of art you are.
211 E. First St., Sanford, historicdowntownsanford.com
1501 S. Semoran Blvd.
This is a 1970s-era low-rider with Marcel Breuer-style windows, a crystalline, concrete flat pancake of a building crying out for a garden front and some professional TLC. This building is ripe for a creative business to magnify its potential as a Brutalist iconette with sympathetic interior design. It anchors an unstudied architectural district of Orlando, South Semoran: the front driveway to one of America's busiest airports, with a peculiar mix of local, national and international brands rivaling South Orange Blossom Trail. Let's hope this little gem gets the refresh it deserves and doesn't get mulched to become another Starbucks.
We recognize that Orlando International Airport has a shiny new carpet-free terminal; but nothing can replace our deep, unyielding affection for the faded green-blue hues of MCO's floral carpet. It's a carpet that's easier on the ankles and brings a sense of comfort. You know you've arrived when you've set your foot down where millions have before you, and let your eyes trace the lines of goldenrod and burgundy vines guiding you toward you next destination. If carpets could talk, this one wouldn't, because she knows snitches get stitches. Paired with the retro wicker furniture drilled permanently into place in the airport's original terminals, it's the cushy step that lets you know you're officially home.
Driving around Lake Como Circle is a relaxing and scenic little locals-only route to the Hourglass District from busy Anderson/Bumby: you see local residents enjoying a walk, dog tails wagging in harmony, quaint cottages and unbothered wildlife, all carrying on with a resort-life demeanor. We had heard the lore of a duck who doesn't subscribe to that peaceful neighborhood vibe, but had never witnessed such behavior until last week when the myth revealed itself to be true. A ballistic missile with wings targeted one of our photographers' car doors from across the street, made impact, then launched itself again. He sped away looking through the rear-view as the feisty — dare we say daffy — duck stopped traffic behind while casually turning around and waddling toward its next victim.
There are lots of great neighborhoods in Orlando, but none are quite as socially vibrant as the Audubon Park Garden District. Sure, hoods like downtown, Mills 50, Thornton Park and the Milk District are social hot spots. Audubon Park, however, has much more of a for-us-by-us ethos. While it proudly maintains its small scale, its outsized events calendar — which includes a fantastic array of regular and annual markets and festivals — reveals a neighborhood that's remarkably active. But there's something different in the air at their gatherings than at other such events elsewhere; people really seem to know each other and share a deeply communal ethos. (helloapgd.com)
Everyone needs a bathroom. We don't care what idiotic and bigoted laws Florida's majority-conservative legislature decides to copy and paste from the right-wing national playbook of laws that make everyone's lives more miserable while they get even richer. The best bathroom is the one that aligns with your gender identity, and for anyone forced to do their business anywhere else because of the slate of hate in our state — Orlando Weekly wants you to know you are seen, you are perfect and you matter.
