Places We All Pod Down Here Wants to Go

This historic crypt was said to have been designed and built by the very person who is buried inside of it.

This stretch of highway is said to be haunted by ghosts of settlers whose graves were paved over.

A lion given to the prime minister somehow got stuffed and sent to Florida.

Four metal statues of massive animal penises stand outside the university's Animal Sciences building.

The 44,000-ton aircraft carrier was purposely sunk to create an artificial reef teeming with life.

How Quincy, Florida became the richest town per capita due to one man's shrewd business acumen and taste for fizzy drinks.

The site of a gold-digging conquistador's bloody landing in the Americas.

Get up close with some alligators at this roadside farm attraction.

Remarkably realistic Florida shoal bass "swim" inside this large globoid sculpture.

It's believed Elvis Presley was inspired to write his breakthrough track after staying here.

The ruins of a once massive plantation are now a private residence hidden in the Florida wilderness.

"Bite or Smite" became the unlikely mascot of a Tampa suburb.

Neglected resting place of some of the city's early luminaries—and a woman encased in concrete.

The strip club's VIP lounge is actually a rare repurposed Futuro House.

Mariners once used this prehistoric landfill as a navigational landmark.

One of the largest Native American shell middens stands 30 feet tall.

A local landmark with generations of spraypainted messages, and more being added each day.

A thriving Black community was destroyed by an angry white mob at this site in 1923.

Many of the murals covering this sleepy Florida town hide some sort of intentional error.

The "worst battleship ever built" is enjoying a grand second act, submerged 30 feet in the Gulf of Mexico.

Wading through a small lagoon reveals a secret, wild stretch of pristine beach.

The futuristic test model of an iconoclastic visionary who wanted to redesign the world.

A former hospital is now home to a pizza parlor and maybe a few ghosts.

These crumbling foundations are all that remain of the once-stately 1840s manor that gave the town of Bradenton its name.