So this is the way the legislative session ends: not with a bang but a whimper.
On the final day of this year's session, many things remained as they've always been. Lobbyists in fancy suits and three-inch heels punched messages into their BlackBerries, chatting about their bills as they milled around the Capitol's fourth floor. Legislative aides congratulated each other on a job well done while journalists sat sequestered in the press galleries, furiously typing at their laptops.
And yet.
Something was different this time. With Gov. Charlie Crist bolting his own party, animosity and tension ran high, and budget worries have cast a dark cloud over the entire lawmaking session.
As a result, the closing of this year's assembly was decidedly more subdued than in years past. The fourth-floor rotunda, known as the "fishbowl" and usually jam-packed with people, looked relatively empty.
Mike Fischer, who lobbies for health-care interests at the Capitol, watched the scene from a fifth-floor railing.
"It's definitely been quieter," he said. "It's just been a tough year."
Fischer has been lobbying for six years. This time, he's "relieved" to have reached the session's end.
"The budget stinks," he said.
As the minutes ticked by Friday, lawmakers continued grappling with that budget, complaining about cuts and lamenting tough choices.
"This is one of the most difficult sessions that I've ever been a part of," Rep. Marti Coley, R-Marianna, told other delegates on the House floor.
The Legislature is required to pass a budget, if nothing else, every year. That didn't stop representatives from launching into a series of impassioned speeches about the budget's challenges, evoking everyone from Winston Churchill (Rep. Carlos Lopez-Cantera) to Icarus, the character from Greek mythology (Rep. Darren Soto).
Lawmakers remained at odds with each other throughout the day. As the sky over the Capitol complex turned gray, representatives took up a contentious abortion amendment that prompted fierce debate.
Meanwhile, a steady stream of people from outside the political ecosystem filed in and out to watch lawmakers' final battles of the session.
"They're certainly slick and well-dressed," observed Richard Wiest, who was visiting Tallahassee from Lynnwood, Wash., to see his nephew graduate Florida State University.
By mid-afternoon, the slick and well-dressed masses began to congregate around the fourth-floor rotunda for the annual Sine Die ceremony. When the House adjourned, though, Senate members were still arguing over the budget.
Minutes turned into hours. Lt. Gov. Jeff Kottkamp appeared and then left. Eventually, the throngs of spectators dissipated too as it became clear the usual theatrics would not be taking place.
At nearly 9 p.m., the Senate adjourned with little fanfare.
As for Crist? He'd already checked out: He and his wife, Carole, were on their way to Miami.
