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