Unabashed Frivolity On Duval Street... Key West, Florida.

PROCEED WITH CAUTION... ADULT CONTENT AHEAD!

If I had to use but one word to describe Key West it would be frivolity.

Frivolity as in zealously chasing a good time while throwing three sheets to the wind and not giving a rat's ass as to the consequences while imbibing copious amounts of liquid courage.

And Duval Street is the place to be if one just wants to let it all hang out, pun intended, wink, wink, for it is but one long, continuous strip of bars, night clubs, and tourist shops.

Nevertheless, the unabashed revelry of that scene can get old pretty quickly after but a time or two of strolling along that street. Before long one is sure to be seeking out a quiet sports bar somewhere off the beaten path and away from all the tourists.

In any event I happened to be strolling along Duval the other morning in search of a coffee shop when I happened to come upon the "Bull & Whistle", an open aired bar not unlike the many others along Duval.

But what caught my attention about that place was of the sign posted alongside the entry way to the upstairs portion of that bar. That stairwell led to "The Garden of Eden" and posted on that sign was "Clothing Optional".

All of which had me thinking back to the time when I had first purchased my boat and had it tied up alongside the City of Fort Myers Marina seawall and alongside a wide pedestrian walkway.

Well after working on my boat all day and later sipping on a few cold beers in the late afternoon, I'd pointedly sit up on deck and wave hi to one and all as they strolled on past the boat.

For you see, Fort Myers can be a bit boring at times and I had little else to do but amuse myself by goofing with those who might perhaps pause a moment and exchange a few pleasantries.

And of course I'd always say hi to all the hot chicks wearing their tight fitting athletic attire as they jogged on past whether or not they waved back.

But the black chicks that would stroll on by were often times, for whatever reason, only too happy to put up with my goofing and without exception would always dish it right back at me but in much larger doses.

On one occasion I happened to be jovially chatting it up with two plus-sized sistas one afternoon when one of the two young ladies asked where I might be sailing off to in the near future.

I quickly responded, "Key West... Would you like to come along with me? I ain't got a girlfriend", all the while smiling real big.

And after laughing for but a very brief moment and without even bothering to dismiss my invitation, she sets upon telling me all about her recent weekend excursion out to Key West.

She proceeds to describe in some detail the boisterous decadence along Duval Street without hardly pausing a moment to take in a breath.

She then goes on to describe the scene in what surely had to be "The Garden of Eden" and of its clothing optional policy and of all the nudity going on up there and of a group of white dudes throwing down shots and of her being the center of attention.

And with her eyes bulging out as far as they could possibly go and with both hands squarely placed upon her wide hips, she emphatically leaned forward and punctuated her animated description of that bar scene by loudly exclaiming, "DEM White BOYS Wanted To EATTT MEEE"! before striding off all the while outrageously laughing and with her over-sized booty in tow.

Oh gawd.... it seems like I might have gotten more than I had bargained for. I can't seem to remember ever laughing so damned hard.

And as my lady-friend from up on Marco Island is prone to say, "Youth Is Wasted On The Young".

Boy ain't that the truth.

Setting Sail and Later Anchoring in Bahia Honda...

Well all good things must eventually come to end and so it was with my five days of loitering at my lady-friends, "Hurricane Irene Refuge" on Marco Island. I tried convincing her that there were even more intense storms brewing out in the Atlantic and heading on down to the Keys but she wasn't buying any of it.

So that was that as she politely reminded me of "Booty-Call Protocol, Tenant #2"... "Live Close By but Visit Often" and with that I was back on the road once again and driving across the Tamiami Trail and on to Homestead and later on down the Keys.

Blondie-Dog was right as I had left her, sitting quietly at anchor in what now seemed to be an almost vacant anchorage... a far cry from just months earlier when that anchorage seemed as if it were bursting at the seams with many boats strewn about.

That almost vacant anchorage held no warm fuzzies for me this time around and all I could think about was of wanting to get underway to Key West as soon as possible weather permitting.

And the last thing that I wanted to see happen was to somehow inadvertently get tangled up in someone else's petty squabbles. So the sooner I was out of there, the better.

Departure day was rather uneventful. I went ashore one last time to use the Marina facilities only to then head right on back to my boat and pull up anchors. I got a rather late morning start but that was okay since I'd only be sailing as far as Bahia Honda which was but some fifteen miles down the Keys.

Marathon sits on Mile Marker 50 with Key West at Mile Marker 0 and please know that the difference between sailing 35 miles as apart from 50 miles in one day can feel significant if one is single handling while manning the tiller the entire way.

That hot sun can feel brutal after a while with or without a boater-hat and the reflexion of the sun upon the deck can indeed fry up one's face and have one looking like an aborigine by the end of the day.

So yeah, I'd much rather sail seven hours as apart from ten hours in one stretch. It's a no-brainer. Hence my decision to sail that first day to Bahia Honda and only then sail on to Key West in earnest the following morning at daybreak.

Winds were rather light upon motoring out of the channel from Boot Key Harbor but I nevertheless did raise the sails and shut that outboard motor off at the first opportunity.

It felt good to be underway once again and away from the confining feel of Boot Key Harbor. Winds did pick up a bit once Blondie put a little distance between herself and Boot Key's shoreline.

Soon thereafter Blondie-Dog was swiftly sailing out past Moser Channel, Pigeon Key and the Seven Mile Bridge. Before long I was lining up Bahia Honda Channel and turning in.

I'd soon be sailing straight out under the old Flaggler Railroad Bridge that had once seen better days but had long ago been put out of service. In no time I was furling the jib, bringing the main down and setting an anchor.

My subsequent sponge bath and afternoon nap was a nice respite after that three or so hour long sail.

"Live close by, but visit often"... another "Booty-Call, Protocol" tenant...

 

I got another invitation from my friend up on Marco Island to come visit for a few days and dip my toes in her swimming pool once again. Well it certainly didn't take much arm twisting to get me to accept her gracious invitation and I was soon enough driving on up there for a most welcomed respite in a real house.

It was a joy to cook in a real kitchen and on a real stove for a change and not on some dinky propane gas burner in a galley. It was also nice to sprawl out on the sofa and watch television at my leisure and not have to share a tv in a marina lounge with some old, grizzled boater exposing a huge gut and hairy back.

(memo to self: anonymously suggest to the marina staff that a dress code be implemented while one is inside the lounge area... I'm tired of seeing old fat geezers displaying hairy armpits in a public setting.)

My visit was interspersed with a few excursions throughout Marco Island as well... these included a scenic stroll along Marco Island Beach, a site-seeing drive throughout the affluent "Estates" neighborhood, a drive out to the nearby quaint community of Goodland known as "a drinking town with a fishing problem", a visit to the new city park boating facilities on Marco Island and lastly an excursion on out to a State Park facility with an extended boardwalk above a swamp, purportedly loaded with alligators... not that I saw any.

While touring the "Estates" neighborhood, I was informed by my friend that Larry Bird happened to own a house somewhere in the neighborhood as well. I had my eyes peeled looking out for him and was hoping that we could perhaps shoot a few hoops together in his driveway. Unfortunately he was nowhere to be seen and was evidently out of town.

Buster Douglas, the fellow who knocked the crap and mouthpiece out of Iron Mike Tyson also has a house on the Island as well. Somehow I missed my invitation to hangout at his house one evening for some pizza and beer. Oh well, maybe next time.

Well all good things must eventually come to an end I was all too soon back on the road first thing Monday morning driving on down to the Keys after a good three days of house-guest loitering .

While driving, I kept thinking of my friend's succulent and delicious mangos. They were to die for. I could eat on them all day. Someday I'm gonna have to plant myself a mango tree in my back yard once I ever get off my boat.

Later that evening I called my friend to let her know that I had safely arrived in Boot Key Harbor and was back aboard my boat. I also thanked her for the wonderful time spent over the previous three days and of how she was spoiling me... to which brings me to what could arguably be described as a fundamental tenant of "Booty-Call, Protocol".

Upon thanking my friend and informing her that she was spoiling me, she gently reminded me, "Live close by, but visit often".

So there you have it... the second "Booty-Call, Protocol" tenant...