Rethinking Florida and experiencing Key West as a new year dawns

  • By Mike Dewey
  • January 2, 2011
  • 267
                        
KEY WEST, Fla. -- Winter suntans are overrated, which is a lesson I learned more than 30 years ago, when I returned from a weeklong stay in Jamaica, only to have my beautifully bronzed skin peel and shed before I'd even gotten back to Ohio. I can still see it fading, the remnants flaking and falling and covering the taxi seat as if to remind me that snow was the natural way of things this time of year. Human beings have a strange way of making themselves feel more attractive and topping the list is the need to travel great distances, at tremendous expense, in order to soak up rays that are hideously dangerous and sometimes, well, fatal. Having already been treated once for a malignant melanoma, I prefer to wear hats, long-sleeved T-shirts and sunscreen the consistency of mayonnaise. You'd be wise to do the same if you ever find yourself in this, the southernmost town in the continental United States. Most winters, that is. This time around, however, you'd have nothing to worry about, since the temperatures have been very anti-Snowbird and the warm stuff isn't supposed to arrive until long after we're gone. And I don't mean gone, as in dead ... simply departed, as in heading back to Coastal Carolina. It's been downright chilly here, with lows in the 30s and highs barely scraping 60, which is fine, since I packed everything from shorts to thermal underwear, covering all the bases. This wasn't going to be a "beach" vacation, though. We came here to experience and to learn. Key West, I can faithfully tell you, isn't so much a place as it is a state of mind. The night before I drove that last 100 miles or so, I was talking with a couple of Buckeye guys who'd spent a lot of time here and I asked them what to expect. "Well," said the one, as we stood in the parking lot outside the Key Largo Inn, "you can either join the party or you're going to miss it." His friend nodded his head. "And you don't want to miss it," he said. It's a fantastic feeling, driving south on U.S. 1, driving from island to island, skipping over two dozen bridges -- some as long as seven miles -- as you head into Key West. The day was sun-dappled and shiny, the water on either side dazzling and aquamarine, the road ahead reeling you in like a freshly landed striper. Oh, sure, the landscape is blighted by tacky shacks selling everything from tattoos to tarpon cadavers, but once you understand that Florida isn't trying to be anything it isn't, you relax. And that's the point of landing here: simple and certain and reliable as the tides. Relax and join the party. Our hotel room couldn't have been smaller had it been designed for Munchkins but, once we'd established the fact that only one of us could navigate it at a time, we found our rhythm and things flowed easily. Were there moments when my wife and I found ourselves at loggerheads, trying to negotiate our way to and from the bathroom? Sure. But I'd simply execute a backward flip, bounce off the bed and clear the passage for her. No muss, no fuss. Key West is a destination, a place that you really want to get to, once you set off on your journey. I counted 45 license plates between it and Key Largo, not to mention more Canadian provinces than I can remember. What, then, is the attraction? This is a very valid question and my answer would be a sense of accomplishment. We've traveled to places all up and down the Eastern Seaboard, from Bar Harbor to Siesta Key and those places have added nothing but happiness to our lives together. You say words like "Nantucket" or "Virginia Beach" or "St. Simon's Island" and I can spin stories all night long. But Key West isn't like those fine places. It's not about fine dining -- though we've had some excellent meals -- or riding the waves, since if there's a special beach, we haven't found it. It's about being here, getting here, staying here, belonging here. The night after we'd driven out and had arrived on Amelia Island, eight hours or so up the coast, I had to stop and ask for directions, because I couldn't seem to find the resort that had our reservation. "Hey," I said to a couple who were standing in a parking lot, smoking and taking in the warm evening air outside a restaurant. "I wonder if you could help me find the Plantation Inn." Silence. "We just drove in," I said, "from Key West and we're kind of lost ... " "Key West!" the woman said. "You look like you've lived there all your life." Bearded, with my hair to my shoulders, wearing a Life Is Crap T-Shirt, white shorts and sneakers, I said, "We loved it there, my wife and I. Felt very comfortable, with the Hemingway house, the sunsets, Duvall Street, the bikes and all." "But you didn't get much sun," the man said, not in a mean way, just stating a fact. "No," I said, "but it just would have faded before we got back home, anyway." He nodded. "Smart," he said, taking my measure. "I like that." "But we'll take back lots of memories," I said. "My wife's always wanted to get there ... ." The man's wife took his arm and said, "Just follow us ... we'll get you to your next stop." Mike Dewey can be reached at CarolinamikeD@aol.com or snail-mailed at 6211 Cardinal Drive, New Bern, NC 28560.


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