The Perfect Storm

Sound track of the day:
I think of you every night and day
You took my love and you took my pride away

Current Temperature: sunny and hopeful





The Florida Keys is an experience much like walking into a Jimmy Buffett wonderland. And that’s not a bad thing. The alcohol is always flowing and no one’s going to judge whether you abstain or dive right into a week-long binge. During the day you’ll find weekenders and tourists enjoying the sun and sea lapping up the hedonistic vibrations, noshing on conch fritters (pronounced conck), and sucking down rum runners. At night everyone gets gussied up, although still half naked, and hits any one of a number of joints with live music, often accompanied by comedy.

This weekend Vicki and I had the pleasure of, not only enjoying Key West in its own ridiculously decadent splendor, but also of being able to experience it with the dash of spring break debauchery and a sprinkle of St. Patty’s day obscenities. It was the perfect storm to make this trip memorable. We stopped by Cowboy Bills where the live band was top notch featuring a guitarist right out of a CCR revival band, and an electronic bull was in full effect tossing off young able-bodied college kids to the bruising of their delicate egos. The second place Vicki took me was the rooftop of The Bull and Whistle, aptly called the Garden of Eden. Despite the stares and jeering of us, less evolved gawkers, several tanned, mostly old, bodies were dancing around in nothing but their skivvies, real small ones. One man, I’m guessing in this 60s, bounced around with just a slim g-string and a patch of cloth to cover his junk. I keep hoping he wouldn’t show brain. I think that night ended at Irish Kevin’s where a performer who goes by JMH gave a raunchy and brilliant performance in the spirit of Dane Cook and all those misogynistic comedians who are most likely married and owe their humor to this ever-supportive wives. Among all of these bar visits, the best, hands down, was the visit to the Lazy Gecky where a duo of guitar playing guys entertained a crowd of partiers with country classics like the Allman Brothers and new hits from Kings of Leon. My favorite by far was a hearty rendition of Garth Brook’s “I got friends in low place,” which brought warm memories of an early January morning romping the alleyways of Washington D.C., while belting the lonely tune with two good friends.

The highlight of our brief time in Key West was the visit to Hemingway’s house. Being dead and relatively private, he’s always been a mystery to me. Rumors of his alcoholism and his deep depressions make me wonder how someone with so many internal troubles managed to have such a prolific writing career, while I, with my lack of responsibility and a good childhood, am hardly able to get a blog post written without stepping away every 5 minutes to find something else to do. Seven hundred words a day sounds doable, but sometimes you have to squeeze every last drop from a place so deep in your core that you run your hands red trying. And sometimes that place is dry. We learned from our tour guide what I had already suspected, that dear Ernest was a major philanderer, hated his social climbing second wife, and was an original good ol’ boy – writing by day, catching record winning marlin and ending each night with a nightcap (or 10) at Sloppy Joe’s bar down the street.

On the streets of Key West, although you might not hear it with your real ears, you can sense that somewhere, some bar is playing the good tunes “I blew out my flip flop...” and “It’s five o’clock somewhere”. You start to talk to the locals and note how happy and utterly friendly they are. You also find that many move along too slowly as if life is going to last forever. You start to resent their indifference at your sense of urgency, even though you know you’ve slowed down a good couple of notches from your regular life speed. You find yourself praying to the god of sun and tequila, “please don’t take my brain too. I really like it.”

Then after a couple of days of the sun and purely good vibes you start to think “maybe, in exchange for this lifestyle my wits aren’t all that important.” And that’s when you know you have to leave.