Florida is in a drought. Since I've arrived, it has rained three days (all day rain, pouring down, torrential downpour rain).
The weather forecast for this week was nice, sunny and 80s every day. They lied. When i woke up this morning to rain, i was so bummed. Today was the day i was going to the beach. Even the days it hasn't rained, it's been cloudy and cool. There have been a few hours of warm sunshiny weather.
I have to keep reminding myself it's cold and nasty at home. But if i hear one more local tell me it hasn't rained in three months, i will scream.
Tomorrow is my last day, last chance for the beach. All i need is two hours of sunshine.
Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!!
JB
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Key West -- Debauchery at its finest
Santina and I headed for Key West on Friday. We picked up Bridget in Islamorada at her parents' winter home. The 4-1/2-hour drive wasn't as bad as we expected. It was such a beautiful drive once we got into the Keys.
We managed to get a little lost on the way to the hotel, but eventually we found it. We got our keys from the front desk, but none of them worked. Our first clue was when we tried to swipe the machine in the parking deck. The guy at the front desk was nice enough to draw a map of how to get to our room from there. It seemed easy enough, but not so much. It took us like a half an hour to find it. it was in another building. Go up the steps, over the bridge, down the elevator, down the hall, make a right in the courtyard, through the door, up the elevator, down the hall. Yeah, ok.
Finally we found it. Like i said, none of the three credit card key thingies worked. Fortunately a maid was nearby and let us in. They bring us all new keys. More on that later.
The room was nice, not as nice as the price tag would indicate, but nice enough. The "Heavenly" beds were pretty heavenly with down comforters and down pillows. Santina got to sleep alone because she likes to be "tucked in." Bridget and I liked to be "untucked." Lucky for San because Bridget is quite violent in her sleep.
I was the only one excited about the fluffy robes in the closet. There was a balcony overlooking the pool. We definitely paid for location. the hotel was right near Mallory Square, next to the Gulf of Mexico's sparkling blue waters. Gorgeous. And two blocks from Duval Street.
Ah, yes, Duval Street. It's kind of strange in Key West, because you're on a tropical island, seemingly peaceful and tranquil and rich with history and charm. And then you walk down Duval Street, and suddenly you're in the French Quarter in New Orleans...with all its debauchery. The smell of beer and garbage (maybe pee) envelops you as you peek into every shop and bar you pass. For some strange reason, it only smells during the day.
You know what they say: When in Rome...
So we stopped at Caroline's for our first drink. This was the perfect place in my mind, outside, bar stools facing the sidewalk, a perfect place to people-watch. We had some Key Lime type drink that got me drunk after only two sips. And we watched, the people, drunk people, people on vacation. We were surprised that they weren't young 18 to 25-year-olds. They were our age and older, letting their hair down. Ever notice how happy people are when they're on vacation?
There was this one guy...we called him the stalker. He made it a point to let us know he's been married for 29 years, that he wasn't stalking us, just having fun. Meantime, every time we ducked into a store for 10 minutes, he and his middle-aged drunk, cigar-smokin' buddies were right there waiting to tail us. They were harmless but annoying, kind of like the chickens. Yes, there are chickens just roaming around Key West. They do not belong to anyone. At first i was never so excited to see chicken in my life. i must have taken 20 pictures of them. They were everywhere, cock-a-doodle-do'ing and flying into trees, onto rooftops, running around, eating crumbs of dropped conch fritters. By Day 2, i was so over them. Enough with the damn chickens!
Ok, back to Friday. It was time to get back to see the sunset. There are a bunch of street performers in Mallory Square entertaining the tourists as they wait for the sun to drop. I wasn't impressed. I guess having seen some great performers over the years, the guy with the trained cats and the annoying foreigner twirling fire batons on a unicycle just didn't cut it for me. I was only interestd in seeing a spectacular sunset over the Gulf. And it was. Of course, i took like 800 pictures of it.
What is it about sunsets that make people turn into professional photographers about to release a coffee table book on sunsets? Do we really need a picture every millisecond to capture every stage of the sunset? Apparently so. And like a big hunk of your favorite pie, before you know it, it's gone. Everybody leaves the second the sun drops. The fire-wielding unicyclists guilts the tourists into giving him money. The tourists obey, except us. We refuse.
Saturday we decided to take advantage of the Westin's fine offer to pay $20 each to use the private beach, even though every other beach in the Keys is free. Oh, but this offer includes a boat ride AND the privilege of eating lunch or dinner at a fine restaurant (you still have to pay for the meal). They only permit 40 Westin guests per day, so you better get here early if you want a spot! Well, we fell for it hook, line and sinker.
The boat ride wasn't exactly the African Queen. isn't that a Humphrey Bogart movie? Maybe I'm thinking of the Jungle Queen. No, that's some dumb boat ride in Ft. Lauderdale. What do I mean? It wasn't exactly the Lucky Linda (giant multi-million-dollar yacht docked near our hotel). There must be a reference you can all understand. It wasn't exactly the Love Boat. It was a tiny boat that fit maybe 20 people with a guy who called himself captain, but he was no Captain Steubing. Anyway, we figured out this was not worth $20 when the little boat took on some water at our feet. Bridget was the first to notice, quickly lifting her beach bag off the floor...just in time. My response time was not so good. I lifted my bag up only to find it drenched and dripping. OH, NO! I pull my phone out, worried it was ruined. San says, "Oh, don't worry. Dave jumped in my pool to save Luke, and his phone, wallet and keys were all in his pocket. He took the battery out, let it dry, and his phone was fine."
I spent the next 3 hours trying to turn it on, trying to get the stupid battery out (picture 3 girls with long fingernails trying to pull the tiny tab down and pull the back off with a credit card key thingy). Finally, we get it off, but it doesn't help. It's dead. i can't believe my phone is dead. How am i going to communicate with the world?! Ok, never mind. How am i going to communicate with Shannan?
We've become so reliant on our cell phones. Remember when you used to go on vacation before cell phones? How did we survive? Payphones? Who has change? Deposit another $27 in quarters please. Hotel phones? That will be $5 a minute just to dial the operator. I don't think so. Oh, yeah, i remember now. We didn't call anyone...we were on VACATION! See previous blog.
Ok, back to the island. It was sort of Gilligan Island-ish, all secluded and private. Of course, with my incredible knack for bringing bad weather with me everywhere i go, despite the perfect-beach-day weather report, it was cloudy, windy, and downright chilly. But we gladly let the cabana boy set us up with lounge chairs and towels and enjoyed the beautiful view, chatting it up as girls do.
I won't go into the details of Bridget's meltdown. Let's just say, she wasn't having a great day. But we made the best of it, and actually, the sun came out and somehow i got burnt to a crisp on my face and back. In the old days, that was a good thing. Yippee, in two days, that will turn to tan. Nowadays, that's the gateway to skin cancer. Damn!
The real fun started as we were waiting for the boat to take us back. We decided this was a good photo op, and just as Bridget was about to take our picture, San threw her camera case over the railing of the dock into the water. Ok, there's a little discrepancy over the actual events here. She bumped into me or I bumped into her or a tree jumped in front of a car or something like that. The important thing to remember is she freaked. We all hung over the railing trying to will it back, but to no avail. Then she told us the only thing in the camera case was the room key. No camera. No money. No jewels. No boat ticket. Ok, well, you can get a new camera case. No, no, somebody has to get it.
"Captain, oh, captain. We have an item overboard. Do you have a pole or a net or something?" He slowly moseys over with no sense of urgency and says, "What?" He could have cared less. We're screaming at the pelicans not to eat it. Meantime, our boat is set to leave in a matter of minutes. Ok, San, i think you can let it go. Come on. let's go. NO! All of a sudden, these two guys get into a little raft with a motor that just happens to be tied to the dock. "We can get it," they say. Great. The motor won't start. I keep checking the other boat, the one we're supposed to be on. The other passengers with sand on their feet are boarding. You see, there was another boat, a bigger boat, a fancier boat. And we asked the captain why we couldn't go on that boat, and he said because that boat is only for people who don't have sand on their feet. I now know how Rosa Parks felt on that bus. In this day and age...
Back to the camera case. So they finally get the motor started on the raft, and they "drive" about 5 feet, pick up the camera case, after San gives them exact coordinates on its location. They drive back 5 feet, hand her the case, and she squeals, "My heroes!" (embellishment) "Here's $5, go buy yourselves a beer or something." Of course, they wouldn't accept the tip, because everyone who's ever been to Key West knows you can't get a beer for $5! Note to self: six-pack of Corona bought from lady in living room "liquor store" cost $13.
Long story short (not really), we head to the pool to cool off. My key doesn't open the bathroom door. What-ev! We return to our room. I say i want to try my key. San says, no, she wants to open the door with the key that was almost swallowed by a pellican. There's no way your key is going to work. you may as well just throw it in the trash now. She says, "I GUAR-ON-TEE IT!" And guess what? It actually opened the freakin' door. Note to self: 6 keys...now down to 2 working keys. Oh, hell, i'll spoil it for you. Bridget had trouble getting out of the parking deck the next day with her key. By the end of the weekend, Santina's saltwater-drenched key was the only one that worked. My saltwater-drenched phone? Not so much.
Saturday evening, we hung out in our room. We drank Coronas and wine and nibbled on the only snacks we could find, tiny bags of cheese and Ritz cracker sandwiches and some nut and seed bar. After we had a nice buzz going (what, are we 16?), we headed out to Duval Street. We headed for Virgillio's, which came highly recommended by somebody in Bridget's parents' resort. It was a nice place and we all had a nice meal, and i guess nothing all that funny happened there, so i will move on.
Sunday, San and I decided to do the Conch Train Tour. Bridget left with Eric & Kyle and headed back to Islamorada. We got to the "train station" at 12:20 for the 12:30 train, but it was already full. There was one row open, but it was facing the wrong way. After Santina recognized some guy from her church, we decided to get off, wait for the next train, which should arrive at 12:35, and be the first ones on (which means we'll get the best seats) for the 1:00 departure. So we shop a little, and as soon as I saw the train coming, i yelled to San, and we RAN to the train.
When we left the area, there were like five people sitting on a bench waiting. When we returned, there were like 50 people rushing the train. What the?! Me and San were frantically running up and down the sidewalk trying to grab the perfect seats. it was like a sad game of musical chairs when you're 10. Oh, wait, there's one more row...GRAB IT! Whew! That was close. We got the LAST row that was available facing forward.
Now we wait. About 2 minutes before the train was scheduled to depart, three (foreign) women get on right behind us in the only row of seats left, which happen to be facing backwards. One woman says, "No, i will get sick. Can i sit here?" to San and pointing to the spot between us. I look at San like, no way, and i whisper, "Scoot over towards me" so the woman would sit on the end. But we are both just devastated. We've been sitting here for 25 minutes warming these seats. Man! Then it hit. At the same time, we were both overcome with...the smell...the fumes...no, please, no, anything but that! B.O. ! ! ! ! And it's not just any B.O. It's the WORST B.O. EVER! It's the kind of B.O. that can only come from not bathing for days. I peeked behind San's head to see if i could see hair under her arms. B.O. like this couldn't possibly come from shaved armpits. Nope, no hair. YOWZA!
90 minutes on a Conch Train with this B.O.?! No way. Me and San are whispering, "What should we do? Do you want to get off? Do you want me to say something to her?" That was me. I was so ready to tell her, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but you can't ride with us. You have really bad B.O." Somebody has to tell her! Good thing i didn't; San said she would have died if i did. To add insult to injury, San discovered she had bad breath too. I think you should be able to make a citizens arrest for B.O. It's just not right!
Just then the train conductor asked for our tickets. San held hers out but wouldn't let go. He asked, "What's the matter?" She said, "It's a little cramped." HA HA. He said, "It will be cramped on any train you take."
Fortunately, with the movement of the train and the breeze, the B.O. fumes were intermittent, but we decided we're getting off at the first stop, which was like an hour later. We asked the tour guide Marcia (Marcia, Marcia, Marcia) if we could get on the next train and she said yes, but that i hurt her feelings. I said, "Oh, no, you're a wonderful tour guide. But to be honest with you, the woman sitting next to us has really bad body odor."
"Ohhhhhhhh, that's not good."
We got a quick bite to eat and attempted to get on the next train, until we heard the next tour guide say, "If you do not recognize my voice, you are on the wrong train." I just stood there looking at her, waiting for an opportunity to ask her if we could board. "May I help you?"
I asked her. She looked at me like, no, you can't get on my train. But they told us we could. I started to explain, when all of a sudden this woman who was selling souvenirs began whispering to her. Turns out unbeknownst to us she had heard me tell Marcia (Marcia, Marcia, Marcia) about B.O. woman. The tour guide looked up sympathetically and said, "Oh, yes, if you can find a seat, by all means, get on."
We spent the rest of the day at the pool. It was peaceful. It was relaxing. Now this is a vacation...
On our last night, we ate at a place called Cheeseburger. It was opened by two women in Hawaii, and I just had to eat there when i saw a garden burger and a tofu burger on the menu. It's really hard being a vegetarian on vacation, so this was a big deal. It was a fun place. The waiters and waitresses wore grass skirts. The food was good. We headed back down Duval Street, stopped for key lime pie, and called it a night.
I don't know that I'll go back to Key West. I don't care much for the bars and drunkenness like i used to. Give me sun, water, good food, and a drink with an umbrella in it, and I'm happy. Just don't forget to tip the --
skycap
bellhop
waiters and waitresses
maid (we forgot!)
street performers (unless they suck)
tour guides
cabana boy
boat captain (unless they refuse to retrieve your camera case out of the water)
friendly men who retrieve your camera case out of the water
and anyone else who does something for you and doesn't leave right away
And if you return from your vacation with any money left, you didn't have enough fun.
jb
We managed to get a little lost on the way to the hotel, but eventually we found it. We got our keys from the front desk, but none of them worked. Our first clue was when we tried to swipe the machine in the parking deck. The guy at the front desk was nice enough to draw a map of how to get to our room from there. It seemed easy enough, but not so much. It took us like a half an hour to find it. it was in another building. Go up the steps, over the bridge, down the elevator, down the hall, make a right in the courtyard, through the door, up the elevator, down the hall. Yeah, ok.
Finally we found it. Like i said, none of the three credit card key thingies worked. Fortunately a maid was nearby and let us in. They bring us all new keys. More on that later.
The room was nice, not as nice as the price tag would indicate, but nice enough. The "Heavenly" beds were pretty heavenly with down comforters and down pillows. Santina got to sleep alone because she likes to be "tucked in." Bridget and I liked to be "untucked." Lucky for San because Bridget is quite violent in her sleep.
I was the only one excited about the fluffy robes in the closet. There was a balcony overlooking the pool. We definitely paid for location. the hotel was right near Mallory Square, next to the Gulf of Mexico's sparkling blue waters. Gorgeous. And two blocks from Duval Street.
Ah, yes, Duval Street. It's kind of strange in Key West, because you're on a tropical island, seemingly peaceful and tranquil and rich with history and charm. And then you walk down Duval Street, and suddenly you're in the French Quarter in New Orleans...with all its debauchery. The smell of beer and garbage (maybe pee) envelops you as you peek into every shop and bar you pass. For some strange reason, it only smells during the day.
You know what they say: When in Rome...
So we stopped at Caroline's for our first drink. This was the perfect place in my mind, outside, bar stools facing the sidewalk, a perfect place to people-watch. We had some Key Lime type drink that got me drunk after only two sips. And we watched, the people, drunk people, people on vacation. We were surprised that they weren't young 18 to 25-year-olds. They were our age and older, letting their hair down. Ever notice how happy people are when they're on vacation?
There was this one guy...we called him the stalker. He made it a point to let us know he's been married for 29 years, that he wasn't stalking us, just having fun. Meantime, every time we ducked into a store for 10 minutes, he and his middle-aged drunk, cigar-smokin' buddies were right there waiting to tail us. They were harmless but annoying, kind of like the chickens. Yes, there are chickens just roaming around Key West. They do not belong to anyone. At first i was never so excited to see chicken in my life. i must have taken 20 pictures of them. They were everywhere, cock-a-doodle-do'ing and flying into trees, onto rooftops, running around, eating crumbs of dropped conch fritters. By Day 2, i was so over them. Enough with the damn chickens!
Ok, back to Friday. It was time to get back to see the sunset. There are a bunch of street performers in Mallory Square entertaining the tourists as they wait for the sun to drop. I wasn't impressed. I guess having seen some great performers over the years, the guy with the trained cats and the annoying foreigner twirling fire batons on a unicycle just didn't cut it for me. I was only interestd in seeing a spectacular sunset over the Gulf. And it was. Of course, i took like 800 pictures of it.
What is it about sunsets that make people turn into professional photographers about to release a coffee table book on sunsets? Do we really need a picture every millisecond to capture every stage of the sunset? Apparently so. And like a big hunk of your favorite pie, before you know it, it's gone. Everybody leaves the second the sun drops. The fire-wielding unicyclists guilts the tourists into giving him money. The tourists obey, except us. We refuse.
Saturday we decided to take advantage of the Westin's fine offer to pay $20 each to use the private beach, even though every other beach in the Keys is free. Oh, but this offer includes a boat ride AND the privilege of eating lunch or dinner at a fine restaurant (you still have to pay for the meal). They only permit 40 Westin guests per day, so you better get here early if you want a spot! Well, we fell for it hook, line and sinker.
The boat ride wasn't exactly the African Queen. isn't that a Humphrey Bogart movie? Maybe I'm thinking of the Jungle Queen. No, that's some dumb boat ride in Ft. Lauderdale. What do I mean? It wasn't exactly the Lucky Linda (giant multi-million-dollar yacht docked near our hotel). There must be a reference you can all understand. It wasn't exactly the Love Boat. It was a tiny boat that fit maybe 20 people with a guy who called himself captain, but he was no Captain Steubing. Anyway, we figured out this was not worth $20 when the little boat took on some water at our feet. Bridget was the first to notice, quickly lifting her beach bag off the floor...just in time. My response time was not so good. I lifted my bag up only to find it drenched and dripping. OH, NO! I pull my phone out, worried it was ruined. San says, "Oh, don't worry. Dave jumped in my pool to save Luke, and his phone, wallet and keys were all in his pocket. He took the battery out, let it dry, and his phone was fine."
I spent the next 3 hours trying to turn it on, trying to get the stupid battery out (picture 3 girls with long fingernails trying to pull the tiny tab down and pull the back off with a credit card key thingy). Finally, we get it off, but it doesn't help. It's dead. i can't believe my phone is dead. How am i going to communicate with the world?! Ok, never mind. How am i going to communicate with Shannan?
We've become so reliant on our cell phones. Remember when you used to go on vacation before cell phones? How did we survive? Payphones? Who has change? Deposit another $27 in quarters please. Hotel phones? That will be $5 a minute just to dial the operator. I don't think so. Oh, yeah, i remember now. We didn't call anyone...we were on VACATION! See previous blog.
Ok, back to the island. It was sort of Gilligan Island-ish, all secluded and private. Of course, with my incredible knack for bringing bad weather with me everywhere i go, despite the perfect-beach-day weather report, it was cloudy, windy, and downright chilly. But we gladly let the cabana boy set us up with lounge chairs and towels and enjoyed the beautiful view, chatting it up as girls do.
I won't go into the details of Bridget's meltdown. Let's just say, she wasn't having a great day. But we made the best of it, and actually, the sun came out and somehow i got burnt to a crisp on my face and back. In the old days, that was a good thing. Yippee, in two days, that will turn to tan. Nowadays, that's the gateway to skin cancer. Damn!
The real fun started as we were waiting for the boat to take us back. We decided this was a good photo op, and just as Bridget was about to take our picture, San threw her camera case over the railing of the dock into the water. Ok, there's a little discrepancy over the actual events here. She bumped into me or I bumped into her or a tree jumped in front of a car or something like that. The important thing to remember is she freaked. We all hung over the railing trying to will it back, but to no avail. Then she told us the only thing in the camera case was the room key. No camera. No money. No jewels. No boat ticket. Ok, well, you can get a new camera case. No, no, somebody has to get it.
"Captain, oh, captain. We have an item overboard. Do you have a pole or a net or something?" He slowly moseys over with no sense of urgency and says, "What?" He could have cared less. We're screaming at the pelicans not to eat it. Meantime, our boat is set to leave in a matter of minutes. Ok, San, i think you can let it go. Come on. let's go. NO! All of a sudden, these two guys get into a little raft with a motor that just happens to be tied to the dock. "We can get it," they say. Great. The motor won't start. I keep checking the other boat, the one we're supposed to be on. The other passengers with sand on their feet are boarding. You see, there was another boat, a bigger boat, a fancier boat. And we asked the captain why we couldn't go on that boat, and he said because that boat is only for people who don't have sand on their feet. I now know how Rosa Parks felt on that bus. In this day and age...
Back to the camera case. So they finally get the motor started on the raft, and they "drive" about 5 feet, pick up the camera case, after San gives them exact coordinates on its location. They drive back 5 feet, hand her the case, and she squeals, "My heroes!" (embellishment) "Here's $5, go buy yourselves a beer or something." Of course, they wouldn't accept the tip, because everyone who's ever been to Key West knows you can't get a beer for $5! Note to self: six-pack of Corona bought from lady in living room "liquor store" cost $13.
Long story short (not really), we head to the pool to cool off. My key doesn't open the bathroom door. What-ev! We return to our room. I say i want to try my key. San says, no, she wants to open the door with the key that was almost swallowed by a pellican. There's no way your key is going to work. you may as well just throw it in the trash now. She says, "I GUAR-ON-TEE IT!" And guess what? It actually opened the freakin' door. Note to self: 6 keys...now down to 2 working keys. Oh, hell, i'll spoil it for you. Bridget had trouble getting out of the parking deck the next day with her key. By the end of the weekend, Santina's saltwater-drenched key was the only one that worked. My saltwater-drenched phone? Not so much.
Saturday evening, we hung out in our room. We drank Coronas and wine and nibbled on the only snacks we could find, tiny bags of cheese and Ritz cracker sandwiches and some nut and seed bar. After we had a nice buzz going (what, are we 16?), we headed out to Duval Street. We headed for Virgillio's, which came highly recommended by somebody in Bridget's parents' resort. It was a nice place and we all had a nice meal, and i guess nothing all that funny happened there, so i will move on.
Sunday, San and I decided to do the Conch Train Tour. Bridget left with Eric & Kyle and headed back to Islamorada. We got to the "train station" at 12:20 for the 12:30 train, but it was already full. There was one row open, but it was facing the wrong way. After Santina recognized some guy from her church, we decided to get off, wait for the next train, which should arrive at 12:35, and be the first ones on (which means we'll get the best seats) for the 1:00 departure. So we shop a little, and as soon as I saw the train coming, i yelled to San, and we RAN to the train.
When we left the area, there were like five people sitting on a bench waiting. When we returned, there were like 50 people rushing the train. What the?! Me and San were frantically running up and down the sidewalk trying to grab the perfect seats. it was like a sad game of musical chairs when you're 10. Oh, wait, there's one more row...GRAB IT! Whew! That was close. We got the LAST row that was available facing forward.
Now we wait. About 2 minutes before the train was scheduled to depart, three (foreign) women get on right behind us in the only row of seats left, which happen to be facing backwards. One woman says, "No, i will get sick. Can i sit here?" to San and pointing to the spot between us. I look at San like, no way, and i whisper, "Scoot over towards me" so the woman would sit on the end. But we are both just devastated. We've been sitting here for 25 minutes warming these seats. Man! Then it hit. At the same time, we were both overcome with...the smell...the fumes...no, please, no, anything but that! B.O. ! ! ! ! And it's not just any B.O. It's the WORST B.O. EVER! It's the kind of B.O. that can only come from not bathing for days. I peeked behind San's head to see if i could see hair under her arms. B.O. like this couldn't possibly come from shaved armpits. Nope, no hair. YOWZA!
90 minutes on a Conch Train with this B.O.?! No way. Me and San are whispering, "What should we do? Do you want to get off? Do you want me to say something to her?" That was me. I was so ready to tell her, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but you can't ride with us. You have really bad B.O." Somebody has to tell her! Good thing i didn't; San said she would have died if i did. To add insult to injury, San discovered she had bad breath too. I think you should be able to make a citizens arrest for B.O. It's just not right!
Just then the train conductor asked for our tickets. San held hers out but wouldn't let go. He asked, "What's the matter?" She said, "It's a little cramped." HA HA. He said, "It will be cramped on any train you take."
Fortunately, with the movement of the train and the breeze, the B.O. fumes were intermittent, but we decided we're getting off at the first stop, which was like an hour later. We asked the tour guide Marcia (Marcia, Marcia, Marcia) if we could get on the next train and she said yes, but that i hurt her feelings. I said, "Oh, no, you're a wonderful tour guide. But to be honest with you, the woman sitting next to us has really bad body odor."
"Ohhhhhhhh, that's not good."
We got a quick bite to eat and attempted to get on the next train, until we heard the next tour guide say, "If you do not recognize my voice, you are on the wrong train." I just stood there looking at her, waiting for an opportunity to ask her if we could board. "May I help you?"
I asked her. She looked at me like, no, you can't get on my train. But they told us we could. I started to explain, when all of a sudden this woman who was selling souvenirs began whispering to her. Turns out unbeknownst to us she had heard me tell Marcia (Marcia, Marcia, Marcia) about B.O. woman. The tour guide looked up sympathetically and said, "Oh, yes, if you can find a seat, by all means, get on."
We spent the rest of the day at the pool. It was peaceful. It was relaxing. Now this is a vacation...
On our last night, we ate at a place called Cheeseburger. It was opened by two women in Hawaii, and I just had to eat there when i saw a garden burger and a tofu burger on the menu. It's really hard being a vegetarian on vacation, so this was a big deal. It was a fun place. The waiters and waitresses wore grass skirts. The food was good. We headed back down Duval Street, stopped for key lime pie, and called it a night.
I don't know that I'll go back to Key West. I don't care much for the bars and drunkenness like i used to. Give me sun, water, good food, and a drink with an umbrella in it, and I'm happy. Just don't forget to tip the --
skycap
bellhop
waiters and waitresses
maid (we forgot!)
street performers (unless they suck)
tour guides
cabana boy
boat captain (unless they refuse to retrieve your camera case out of the water)
friendly men who retrieve your camera case out of the water
and anyone else who does something for you and doesn't leave right away
And if you return from your vacation with any money left, you didn't have enough fun.
jb
Thursday, February 14, 2008
What is a vacation anyway?
I'm on vacation. But what is a vacation anyway? Being away from home? Being away from my cell phone? Being away from email? Being away from work? Not having to cook? Does it count if you stay home?
I'm failing miserably at this vacation thing. I carry my cell phone everywhere. I check my email a couple times a day. I've been cooking (but that's kinda fun).
I don't know how to relax. When I am home and doing my thing, working, doing the things I do every day, I sometimes wish I had more time...more time to do what? I don't know...do FUN things on the internet instead of just work-related things. Get lost in solitaire. Watch a movie. Go to the movies. Stay up late. Sleep late. Go out to dinner.
I'm in Florida visiting Santina. Shannan didn't come; she's working. I flew here, so I don't have a car. But she has a pool. Where do I need to go? I can just lounge at the pool.
It rained for two days straight. The first rainy day, I decided to go to the movies. I got up early and drove Santina to work. Later, about an hour before I had to pick her up, the wind and rain had really picked up. I worried this might be one of those hurricanes they get down here. Maybe I better leave early in case there's traffic or flooding or downed palm trees!
I find an umbrella and head for the Expedition. But i can't get in the giant SUV with the umbrella open like i can in my car. The door is too big. I try to close the umbrella while seated in the driver's seat but it's no use. I have to get out to close it and i get drenched. I throw the umbrella on the floor, slam the door, take a deep breath and notice the entire left side of my body is dripping. I would have been better off without the damn umbrella! I look up and, yep, the rain came to a dead stop. Figures.
That night Shannan informs me we are under a tornado watch. San & Harry are unfazed by this. They go to bed and I stay up to watch TV. My show is interrupted with one of those annoying buzzing emergency weather bulletins. It's been upgraded to a tornado WARNING! Ok, i admit, i always get the watches and warnings mixed up. I go on the internet to see if there is reason to panic. A watch means the conditions are right for a tornado. A warning means a tornado or tornadoes have been spotted. Oh, crap. Reading on, what to do in case of a tornado warning: get away from windows; get a radio and batteries and candles; go to a room in the center of the house; cover yourself with blankets, pillows, or a mattress. But i'm on vacation! Should i wake up Harry and Santina? She'll kill me. I can hear her now, "Jen, we get these all the time; they're nothing!" But what if there's a tornado and i don't wake them up? They'll say (if they survive), "Why didn't you wake us up, you idiot?"
I know; I'll stay up until 12:15 a.m., when the warning expires, and if i hear something that sounds like a freight train, i'll wake everyone up. Thank goodness, it expired and there was no tornado. Now my vacation can start.
Let's go back. The first day, I was especially ambitious. I'll walk to Wal-Mart. I hate Wal-Mart. Normally, I never shop at Wal-Mart, but the Target is not in walking distance, so Wal-Mart it is. It took me 40 minutes to walk there. Halfway there, I was already thinking about how I was going to get back. I certainly wasn't going to walk back. It was a lot futher than I thought.
I spent an hour in Wal-Mart. This store isn't so bad after all. I can buy a pair of shorts for like 10 bucks. I leave the store with a bag full of clothes and sundry items, only to hear, "YOU'RE AN IDIOT!" I turn around to see a woman in her car screaming at a 90-year-old lady struggling to get into a car driven by an old man, presumably her husband. The car is in the middle of the roadway, blocking the path of the screaming woman. Could this be? Could this woman be screaming at somebody's great-grandmother? How awful, I thought. Nobody seemed to find this behavior appalling. I have to say something.
"You need to calm down!"
"Well, she's an idiot!"
"You're being a bit abusive...geez!"
I told her!
So I start to head back, when I decide, no, I should stick with my original plan. I was going to continue down the road a bit and get my nails done. I may as well do that because there's no way in hell I'm walking back here tomorrow.
The young man who did my nails was very nice but explained to me how it is in South Florida with the old people. "They are getting in fights with people all the time." "They're grumpy." "All they do is complain."
Isn't vacation sort of like being retired but for a shorter amount of time? Doesn't it put us in a good mood? Doesn't that mean logically if you're retired, you should be in a really good mood? Not so, according to anyone under 50 in South Florida. Now I know why nobody came to the defense of granny. I still say it was just wrong!
I leave the Nail Depot with my South Florida/North Jersey-lookin' French-manicured fake fingernails. Now this is vacation. I can't have fake fingernails at home. Who wants to keep up with the maintenance? Besides, I can't write for shit on the steno machine with them.
I walk about 10 or 15 minutes and decide to take the bus back. I don't know how to ride the bus. My theory about vacation is everything should be better than home, so shouldn't I take a limo, not a bus? It wasn't bad. It only cost $1.50 (cost me $2.00 because the machine doesn't give change...regular bus riders probably know that). I barely had time to sit down and check out the other bus riders when we arrived at my stop. That was easy!
Fast forward to Day 4 (after the 2 straight days of rain). The weather forecast is warm and sunny. Great! I get up early, get dressed, walk out the front door for a morning walk...BRRR. Hey, what the? It's freezing outside! Okay, not -5 windchill freezing, but South Florida 60 degrees freezing. I spin right back around. I'll wait a couple hours. It warmed up to 70. My walk was nice and invigorating. I got my heart rate up and worked up a nice sweat. Good...because i'm going in the pool if it's the last thing i do. I changed into my suit and dipped my big toe in the almost overflowing pool from all the rain. Uh, maybe not. The temperature on the duck says 69 1/2 degrees. So i hung out listening to Howard Stern and reading a book, every once in a while dipping a little more of my body into the pool. Even though it was only 70 outside, the sun was really hot. Eventually, i couldn't stand resisting the inviting waters, and i plunged into the deep end. YOWZA! It was a shock to my system. That is fucking cold. But in a strange way, it felt good.
After sun-bathing for a few hours, i decided to take a shower. I pulled the knob to turn on the water in the tub, and it came right out in my hand. When you stay at someone else's house, you can only hope this is one of those things that happens from time to time and that you didn't just break their stuff. Maybe it's me, but i don't think fixing plumbing fixtures is something you're supposed to do while on vacation. I could do this at home! Ok, ok, but i need to take a shower. I'm covered in sunscreen. So i sit on the side of the tub and do my darnedest to get that sucker back in. it just won't go. What the? The entire shower rod falls on my head. The last time a shower rod fell in my presence was when Donna fell into it in Kendall Park after smoking pot at one of my infamous high school parties. It was hilarious then. Not so much today. Again, I'm on vacation. I shouldn't be fixing stuff! Ok, ok, it only took a few minutes to fix the shower curtain, but only after the entire curtain slid down the pole one ring at a time and landed in a big ball on the floor. I'm going to take a shower in Santina's bathroom.
We are going to Key West tomorrow. I did a little laundry. Santina and I will laugh for years to come, I'm sure, about the "laundry incident." Some stories are just not bloggable...to protect the innocent. But i will say this: I really shouldn't be doing laundry; I'm on vacation.
I expect this weekend in Key West will feel like a real vacation. There will be lots of people we can order around. We'll spend ridiculous amounts of money for ordinary things like lodging, food and drink. We'll stay up late, eat too much, get drunk, lounge in the pool, and sightsee. Oh, yeah, and there will be tipping, lots of tipping. Now that's what i call a real vacation.
JB
I'm failing miserably at this vacation thing. I carry my cell phone everywhere. I check my email a couple times a day. I've been cooking (but that's kinda fun).
I don't know how to relax. When I am home and doing my thing, working, doing the things I do every day, I sometimes wish I had more time...more time to do what? I don't know...do FUN things on the internet instead of just work-related things. Get lost in solitaire. Watch a movie. Go to the movies. Stay up late. Sleep late. Go out to dinner.
I'm in Florida visiting Santina. Shannan didn't come; she's working. I flew here, so I don't have a car. But she has a pool. Where do I need to go? I can just lounge at the pool.
It rained for two days straight. The first rainy day, I decided to go to the movies. I got up early and drove Santina to work. Later, about an hour before I had to pick her up, the wind and rain had really picked up. I worried this might be one of those hurricanes they get down here. Maybe I better leave early in case there's traffic or flooding or downed palm trees!
I find an umbrella and head for the Expedition. But i can't get in the giant SUV with the umbrella open like i can in my car. The door is too big. I try to close the umbrella while seated in the driver's seat but it's no use. I have to get out to close it and i get drenched. I throw the umbrella on the floor, slam the door, take a deep breath and notice the entire left side of my body is dripping. I would have been better off without the damn umbrella! I look up and, yep, the rain came to a dead stop. Figures.
That night Shannan informs me we are under a tornado watch. San & Harry are unfazed by this. They go to bed and I stay up to watch TV. My show is interrupted with one of those annoying buzzing emergency weather bulletins. It's been upgraded to a tornado WARNING! Ok, i admit, i always get the watches and warnings mixed up. I go on the internet to see if there is reason to panic. A watch means the conditions are right for a tornado. A warning means a tornado or tornadoes have been spotted. Oh, crap. Reading on, what to do in case of a tornado warning: get away from windows; get a radio and batteries and candles; go to a room in the center of the house; cover yourself with blankets, pillows, or a mattress. But i'm on vacation! Should i wake up Harry and Santina? She'll kill me. I can hear her now, "Jen, we get these all the time; they're nothing!" But what if there's a tornado and i don't wake them up? They'll say (if they survive), "Why didn't you wake us up, you idiot?"
I know; I'll stay up until 12:15 a.m., when the warning expires, and if i hear something that sounds like a freight train, i'll wake everyone up. Thank goodness, it expired and there was no tornado. Now my vacation can start.
Let's go back. The first day, I was especially ambitious. I'll walk to Wal-Mart. I hate Wal-Mart. Normally, I never shop at Wal-Mart, but the Target is not in walking distance, so Wal-Mart it is. It took me 40 minutes to walk there. Halfway there, I was already thinking about how I was going to get back. I certainly wasn't going to walk back. It was a lot futher than I thought.
I spent an hour in Wal-Mart. This store isn't so bad after all. I can buy a pair of shorts for like 10 bucks. I leave the store with a bag full of clothes and sundry items, only to hear, "YOU'RE AN IDIOT!" I turn around to see a woman in her car screaming at a 90-year-old lady struggling to get into a car driven by an old man, presumably her husband. The car is in the middle of the roadway, blocking the path of the screaming woman. Could this be? Could this woman be screaming at somebody's great-grandmother? How awful, I thought. Nobody seemed to find this behavior appalling. I have to say something.
"You need to calm down!"
"Well, she's an idiot!"
"You're being a bit abusive...geez!"
I told her!
So I start to head back, when I decide, no, I should stick with my original plan. I was going to continue down the road a bit and get my nails done. I may as well do that because there's no way in hell I'm walking back here tomorrow.
The young man who did my nails was very nice but explained to me how it is in South Florida with the old people. "They are getting in fights with people all the time." "They're grumpy." "All they do is complain."
Isn't vacation sort of like being retired but for a shorter amount of time? Doesn't it put us in a good mood? Doesn't that mean logically if you're retired, you should be in a really good mood? Not so, according to anyone under 50 in South Florida. Now I know why nobody came to the defense of granny. I still say it was just wrong!
I leave the Nail Depot with my South Florida/North Jersey-lookin' French-manicured fake fingernails. Now this is vacation. I can't have fake fingernails at home. Who wants to keep up with the maintenance? Besides, I can't write for shit on the steno machine with them.
I walk about 10 or 15 minutes and decide to take the bus back. I don't know how to ride the bus. My theory about vacation is everything should be better than home, so shouldn't I take a limo, not a bus? It wasn't bad. It only cost $1.50 (cost me $2.00 because the machine doesn't give change...regular bus riders probably know that). I barely had time to sit down and check out the other bus riders when we arrived at my stop. That was easy!
Fast forward to Day 4 (after the 2 straight days of rain). The weather forecast is warm and sunny. Great! I get up early, get dressed, walk out the front door for a morning walk...BRRR. Hey, what the? It's freezing outside! Okay, not -5 windchill freezing, but South Florida 60 degrees freezing. I spin right back around. I'll wait a couple hours. It warmed up to 70. My walk was nice and invigorating. I got my heart rate up and worked up a nice sweat. Good...because i'm going in the pool if it's the last thing i do. I changed into my suit and dipped my big toe in the almost overflowing pool from all the rain. Uh, maybe not. The temperature on the duck says 69 1/2 degrees. So i hung out listening to Howard Stern and reading a book, every once in a while dipping a little more of my body into the pool. Even though it was only 70 outside, the sun was really hot. Eventually, i couldn't stand resisting the inviting waters, and i plunged into the deep end. YOWZA! It was a shock to my system. That is fucking cold. But in a strange way, it felt good.
After sun-bathing for a few hours, i decided to take a shower. I pulled the knob to turn on the water in the tub, and it came right out in my hand. When you stay at someone else's house, you can only hope this is one of those things that happens from time to time and that you didn't just break their stuff. Maybe it's me, but i don't think fixing plumbing fixtures is something you're supposed to do while on vacation. I could do this at home! Ok, ok, but i need to take a shower. I'm covered in sunscreen. So i sit on the side of the tub and do my darnedest to get that sucker back in. it just won't go. What the? The entire shower rod falls on my head. The last time a shower rod fell in my presence was when Donna fell into it in Kendall Park after smoking pot at one of my infamous high school parties. It was hilarious then. Not so much today. Again, I'm on vacation. I shouldn't be fixing stuff! Ok, ok, it only took a few minutes to fix the shower curtain, but only after the entire curtain slid down the pole one ring at a time and landed in a big ball on the floor. I'm going to take a shower in Santina's bathroom.
We are going to Key West tomorrow. I did a little laundry. Santina and I will laugh for years to come, I'm sure, about the "laundry incident." Some stories are just not bloggable...to protect the innocent. But i will say this: I really shouldn't be doing laundry; I'm on vacation.
I expect this weekend in Key West will feel like a real vacation. There will be lots of people we can order around. We'll spend ridiculous amounts of money for ordinary things like lodging, food and drink. We'll stay up late, eat too much, get drunk, lounge in the pool, and sightsee. Oh, yeah, and there will be tipping, lots of tipping. Now that's what i call a real vacation.
JB
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