If you come - I'm talking to you, you dirty old man - here are some things to look for.
Ground zero for nubiles is Clearwater Beach. It is no coincidence that Gulfview Boulevard, which parallels the beaches, is heavily laced with pedestrian crosswalks. The road was, after all, laid out by dirty old civil engineers. And the sovereign law of Florida requires motorists to yield to pedestrians pedestriating the crosswalks. I can burn off a gallon of gas at a crosswalk, just waiting to yield to nubile pedestrians. My wife gets impatient wondering why we are standing still in the road for no reason she can discern. Motorists behind me get equally antsy, with blue-haired old ladies anxious to get on with it and their dirty old husbands wanting to take my primo spot at the crosswalk.
Walking the beach is far more scenic, of course, and I develop an acute sunburn every year about this time. Do you know that if you hold your cell phone out in front of your face and talk to it, people never suspect you're really taking pictures? At least, I don't think they do.
For newcomers - dirty old men on their first visit, that is - you should know about the beach volleyball courts set up near Pier 60. All the static sunbathing in the world does not beat nubiles in motion. In teams of six or eight. One man's opinion, all right? Well, no, actually. You see, beach volleyball is a game whose rules are made in France (I'm not making this up). If you subscribe to the Official Rules, as most dirty old men should, you get a rule book with this picture on the cover: