The Conch Republic: Otherwise Known as Key West

You think you know what it’s like to endure an endless schvitz? Do you even know what a schvitz is? It’s the Yiddish word for sweat. And down in Key West, your schvitz (sweat for those who have short term memory loss) is like no other. Imagine those British POWs who were forced by the Imperial Japanese Army to build the Bridge on the River Kwai in relentless tropical heat while being tortured. But it’s not like that. Key West is Dante’s Inferno, Ninth Circle of Hell. (Don’t assume I’ve visited Hell, but take my word for it, it’s HOT!)

With all that heat and oppressive humidity, I still can’t fathom how all the local men cover their face with a full beard or goatee. Maybe it’s an undiagnosed result of an allergic reaction from full body tattoos? I’ll have to Google that when I have time. I’ve never seen so many people, including the women were fully adorned with tattoos. Even sailors were amazed. My wife and I felt so out of place. The best I could do was expose a recently formed scab on my knee. I had this paranoia they were looking at us as liberal New Yorkers behind our backs. I know I’m right because after one male vacationer from Tampa—whom I had a conversation with in the pool—brought up the fact he is right wing when I told him I am from New York. Though to defuse any tension he added “some of my family is on the left and we avoid politics to get along.” Holy shit. Really? This conversation didn’t need to happen in my opinion. In my mind I was telling him to fuck off, hoping a hurricane hits Tampa this summer.

The best you could do to endure the high temperature and humidity was to resign yourself to the fact you will sweat through everything you wear. We were walking around Duval Street with huge sweat stains on the rear of our shorts. Embarrassing, but we weren’t the only ones.

There wasn’t much relief due to most of the bars and restaurants are open-air—which I think explains why most people were downing cold alcoholic drinks beginning at breakfast. We were also cooling off with mimosas over breakfast, beers with lunch, piña coladas and crisp beers at the pool, as well as one more cold crisp beer with dinner. Being I rarely drink alcohol, my liver must have been confused. I started to hear the name Foster Brooks in my stomach gurgles.

Key West reminds me a lot of Greenwich Village when I went to NYU. Bar, restaurant, bar, restaurant, bar, restaurant. Repeat 100 times. I just don’t have the tolerance to drink like I did in college. The locally sourced seafood was magnificent, though one night my wife did get food poisoning. I was glad. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to see her sick, but she was only in the bathroom emptying out from top and bottom for 3 hours. If it were a stomach virus or Covid, our vacation would have been over with her lying in bed for the duration of the time we were there. So yeah, glad she got food poisoning.

One of the most interesting facts about Key West is the island is overrun by roosters. If you’ve been there you know what I’m talking about. They’re fucking everywhere! When we left our hotel every morning, you were cock a doodle dood. The pool areas, even the bars and restaurants (except the enclosed ones which are the smart businesses) had roosters milling about at your feet. Weird. I had no appetite for chicken all week. Threatening to roasted them and glaze with bbq sauce did nothing to dissuade them from being a nuisance. I call them the cockroaches of Key West. I’ll take geckos over them anytime.

We took a sunset dinner cruise which must have been the more enjoyable and relaxing things we’ve done on our much needed and overdue vacation. I asked the captain if I could steer the ship for a little bit. Like to Cuba. “I’ve heard that joke a million times,” he said. This vacation was first one in way too long without our kids tagging along. The lack of tumult was refreshing. If my doctor only came down to check my blood pressure, he’d be impressed.

Typical of anywhere in Florida are signs for “New York Bagels” or “New York Pizza.” Feh! When you’re a New Yorker, that’s the sign of bullshit. I knew I wasn’t home when I ordered a bagel sandwich consisting of eggs, cheddar cheese and bacon and when I took a bite, the bagel was toasted! They never asked; just assumed. Bagel ruined. Yelp will be getting my piss poor review shortly.

Going off-season I learned two things: 1) it’s a great way to avoid the crowds; 2) this is the season for the sargassum. And let me tell you there was an overabundance of that smelly, nauseating seaweed lining the Atlantic side of the island. It smelled worse that New Jersey on a summer day. I know mainland Florida is inundated with it, but never expected it all the way down there. I still can’t get the smell out of my nose.

“Conk” is all the rage there, though it’s spelled Conch. It’s a shellfish delicacy that’s on just about every restaurant’s menu, though I didn’t try it. If I can’t pronounce it like it’s spelled I want no part of it. Due to being pre-diabetic I avoided key lime pie, which they are known for down there. I’m not thrilled with lime anyhow, so I don’t think I missed much. But seemingly most snacks and desserts are key lime flavored. A little much, I think. I was just elated to eat fresh mahi mahi which is sometimes called dolphin. Don’t worry! It’s not dolphin. Mahi mahi is a fish, while dolphins are marine mammals. I wouldn’t eat it if there was blowhole in my fish. Though come to think of it, that blowhole could be filled with rice and veggies for a very compact, highly enjoyable and nutritious meal.

We did some touring: saw Hemingway’s house; Sloppy Joe’s (Hemingways favorite bar); many gorgeous Conch style houses (no not made of conch shells); small “shotgun” houses; Victorian houses; Spanish Colonial. Nearly all have tin roofs due to their close proximity to help prevent spread of fires. At Sloppy Joe’s, I wanted to enter a Hemingway lookalike contest. Unfortunately, I don’t have a white beard, eat like Chris Christie or have the smell of hard alcohol on my breath. Oh, well. Next time.

On the tour we did seen “Mile 0” for US Route 1, which runs from Key West all the way to Fort Kent, Maine. That’s 2,370 miles of stop lights, crosswalks and fast food joints. My ass would go numb on that drive. Luckily, we didn’t need to rent a car. Uber rides were only about 10-15 minutes and timely. Another reason to go there off-season. When we booked a ride, they came in less than three minutes. Never did they come prematurely.

The highlight for me personally was visiting the southernmost part of the U.S. which is marked with a gigantic buoy. You’re told it’s only 90 miles from Cuba, but in actuality it’s 93 miles. Those extra three miles should deter anyone swimming from Cuba, right?

Key West surprised me. It’s an island with great food, ambience and low crime. And it’s in the U.S.A. How the fuck did that happen?

THE END

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