The Conch Fritter – Margarita Tour 2003

What’s the dumbest thing you can do after a really good vacation? Go to the same place…stay in the same hotels…go to the same bars…the very next year. And that’s exactly what Dan and I did this year. Sure…it wasn’t a yellow Mustang convertible this time around…that didn’t matter…it was a convertible of some sort. Because the goal of the trip…at least for myself…was to get a SUNTAN!!! Not read a book…go to a museum…or get some exercise. The theory was…maybe the easiest way to relax was…to be shallow…embrace surface-ness…pass the tanning butter. And I’ll tell you…after getting up at 4:30 am to catch a plane, full of hairdressers who had all won cruise vacations for selling the most hair care products…well…I certainly felt up to the task…so to speak.

The drive down was nice. Once we got off the mainland that is. The Keys of Florida are very different than anything I’ve experienced in the rest of the state. It was sunny and we took our time. (SPF #30 on the face…# 15 one the arms and legs) On the way down we stopped for our first plate of conch fritters. This is the diet Dan and I have on these excursions…breakfast…conch fritters…oysters…and maybe something else. For those of you wondering “what the hell is a CONCH?” Or maybe, “What the hell is a FRITTER?” A fritter is like a hush puppy…the deep fried Southern whatever…not the old guys’ shoes. And you’ve seen a conch shell right? It’s the kind that you can hear the ocean in, if you put one up to your ear. Does that mean conchs inside the shell are impersonating the ocean? I can’t tell you. But they are delicious…even if they are kind of the “earwax of the sea”…again…so to speak.

Once in Key West we checked in to the la Concha Hotel…oldest one on the island. Supposedly royalty, movie stars…even Pulitzer Prize Winners have stayed in this old elegant establishment. So it seems only fitting that the editor and webmaster of Naked Sunfish make their mark on the place. And once we got to our room and discovered there was no bottle opener to be found, we made our mark indeed! The first two beers, Dan successfully opened with the door jam. On my next attempt I managed to rip about an inch and a half off the top of the bottle! Then Dan did the same. So I’m thinking…what is this? We didn’t come all the way down to Key West to go to church! This is supposed to be party central and the oldest hotel in town doesn’t have bottle openers in their rooms? Even if we did go to church shouldn’t there be a church key in your room? So we had to go down to infamous Duvall Street for a bottle opener.
Now Duval Street is crazy…on the surface…which is what I was trying to be. But after a couple hours it gets pretty redundant. At least for Danny and I. So we headed to Captain Tony’s (the original Sloppy Joe’s where Hemmingway hung out, but the second Sloppy Joes is on Duvall Street and that’s where all the tourist are and they don’t give a shit anyway.) Gary Hempsey was playing at Captain Tony’s and I believe he sincerely remembered the two of us. (OH YEAH! The guys with the Sunfish hats!) Gary was as good as last year. I admire some one who can do what Hempsey does…play music…joke with the crowd…both eloquently…without taking himself too seriously. He certainly personifies the “upside” of the Key West scene.

Dan and I also managed to find a little local bar…the name of which slips my mind…where we watched the Kentucky Derby. Incredibly…a guy Dan knows who had gone in with some other guys and bought a couple horses…his horse WON the Kentucky Derby. Unfortunately neither of us had any money on the race.

And of course we did the obligatory “sunset” where what seems to be millions of tourists, endure “performance art” (some of it really is) until it’s time to watch the sun set. Then…like cattle getting on a freight car for the ride to the inevitable…we all look to the west to witness the miracle of commercialism…er…I mean…creation of course! On this particular evening the sun went behind an outlying island and the event had a disappointing…anti-climactic feel that no one seemed to want to acknowledge. It’s difficult to be honest about such disappointment when you’re on vacation. Still…to be brutally honest…I’d seen better sunsets over my neighbor’s rusting Winnebago. A lesson learned I suppose…and here I was trying to be shallow…a sunset is a sunset is a sunset…so to speak.

Key West is fun really. But Dan and I both prefer doing the afternoon thing…playing some pool at Captain Tony’s and listening to live music…over the carousing night time where everybody…regardless of qualifications…struts around like they are the hottest porn star in the industry. By this time Dan and I were back at the room watching “Uncle Buck” on television. Wild guys.

We again had a wonderful drive up to Key Largo…stopping at a community festival on Islamorada I believe. There we saw some local art and drank a beer and listened to some local rock bands. No conch fritters though. So we had to make a stop for some afterwards. By this time I was wearing SPF 15 on the face and # 8 on the arms and legs. (Are you taking notes here?)

The Marriott Resort on Key Largo is a bit bourgeois…but comfortable in a homey sort of way…especially early in May which is the off season. And there was a bottle opener mounted proudly on the bathroom doorframe. Here the two of us can really kick back and relax. The pace is as slow as you want it to be. So we hung out at Snook’s…which we had frequented the previous year…both nights. The sunset here was truly amazing the first night. We savored the margaritas a little less by this time in the trip. (Read: drinking faster) But unlike a lot of folks when they drink, Dan and I didn’t get into fights or begin shouting “USA! USA!” USA!” or even start a riot and burn cars. Instead we became what I call “The Middle Aged Ambassadors of Congeniality”.

The final afternoon of our stay in Key Largo, a woman waved to Dan from across the pool. We were soon approached by a happy looking guy, who thrust out his hand and thanked us for taking care of his wife the previous night. Hmm. I didn’t recall taking care of anyone. But his significant other sheepishly snuck up and explained that she had mistaken us for two other “Middle Aged Ambassadors of Congeniality”. Perhaps it’s a movement. But we were now having a great talk with Nick and Valerie. Soon we were both chatting it up with strangers…making friends…keeping a constant vigil of fun and pursuit of tan-ness. (SPF # 8 on all exposed skin…oil based of course) Dan was swimming up to folks with his new digital camera asking them if they wanted to be on the Internet. And Jeff, his wife Tracy and playful…AND polite…son James…great people from Lake Tahoe…might end up in People Magazine thanks to Dan’s gregariousness. Oh yeah…there were the newlyweds that last night at Snook’s. He ran across a pier to make himself a self-proclaimed wedding photographer. There should be a Boy Scout achievement award for our hospitality.

So that was pretty much it. We spent a night in Ft. Lauderdale at a hotel between the freeway and the airport. And although I put the finishing touches on the tan at the pool here ( SPF #4…oil) the esthetics were few and far between. It was a great vacation though…albeit short. Friends, music, juggling bicyclists, oysters, lotion, conch fritters…and whatever. After more than 50 conch fritters and nearly 4 fifths of tequila…I’m tan. Goal achieved…merit badge for “tan scout”. And I now know that a sunset is a sunset is a sunset…and they are all good…some great. Since I’ve got this suntan…well…perhaps I’ll read a book.

Dog & her boat

Key Largo Sunset from Snook's

Snook's (duh)