February 27, 2010

• Off the Boat

  You know, it’s been strange. Even though I was so glad to be off that cruise ship, all of the dreams I’ve had lately have been about being ON a cruise ship! And never in one of them was I sick.

  But, anyhow, back to my real narrative.

  Our first night on the ship was lovely. We went to a show at the Palladium Theater, and just like they tell you, the shows on board were excellent! the first night, we saw sort of a kick-off show with a preview of the ship’s singers and dancers who did an amazing job all week. Then, we saw a comedian, Al Romas. Or, maybe that was a different night…Anyhow, he was really funny.

  I am not sure how many people the theater held. This is a little over half of the ground level. We sat in the balcony.

  

  Proof that we sat in the balcony, in case you doubted me.

  

  Peep sampled the Bon Voyage!

  

  We went to bed happy and pleased. That night, poor Peep woke up and lay in her bed, feeling wretched. At 5:00, I was awake, too, as I heard some telltale sounds of an unhappy stomach happening in the bathroom. Every hour or less, Peep was back in the bathroom. By the next morning, we took her to the infirmary to get this thing taken care of. They put an IV in her and gave her medicine. She slept there for a few hours. 

  

  At 11:30, we reached our first port, Key West. As the cruise director joked, “You’re going to get on a cruise ship in Florida and sail all night long and get off…in FLORIDA!”  After seeing if Peep would want to come ashore and finding she did not, I headed out for the beach and let her sleep.

  This is all she got to see of Key West. That is, if she had actually looked out our porthole window, which I’m not sure she did.

  

  I really did not know what to expect from Key West. It’s not a very big place. It sort of reminded me of a boardwalk which had grown into a town. There were loads of shops and bars and strange “street performers,” like a woman dressed as an angel, a pirate guy, some guy painted gold, two young children playing an electric keyboard and singing, this guy with snakes and lizards, and many more. I think the guy who seemed to have the most business was a fellow with a crudely made cardboard sign which said, “Dirty Joke $1.” I didn’t take any pictures of these folks because I figured I’d have to pay them!

  I did take a picture of this sign, though. Peep and I were to go on the “Jimmy Buffett Tour of Key West,” but due to lack of people signing up, they canceled it and refunded our money. Great deal, as Peep was too sick to go!

  

  Later in the day, I sat down on some steps to just enjoy the atmosphere. (Yes, I know, jumping ahead in my narrative, but it fits.) There was a 20 year old guy asking passersby if they could give him two cents.  Most people did not, but some gave him some change. I said, “You know, there was a guy selling dirty jokes for a dollar. Maybe you should sell clean jokes for fifty cents.” He laughed and explained that one must have a permit to be a street performer (or whatever they were called) and that permits were $250 and were only sold one week in the year.  We chatted for a bit, and I got to hear some of his story–left home at 18, roaming around, having fun. Couldn’t get a real job because his social security card was stolen. (Um, yeah.)  It was interesting. I guess he lived by this bar’s maxim:

   

  Anyhow, back to my tale of Key West…

  Since it was just like a big boardwalk, after buying a few t-shirts, what does one do? I decided what I wanted to do was to find the beach. I found water, but there were always big boulders surrounding it. “This is an ISLAND!” I thought. “Surely there is a beach!”  I asked the t-shirt vendor where the beach was. He showed me on my map of Key West and said it would take about 20 minutes to walk there. Since he was sending me to the opposite side of the island, I assume the island was a mile long. So, I began to walk. And I saw chickens. It turns out there are about 5,000 free-range chickens in Key West. Who would have though it?

  

  Anyhow, I walked and walked and found more boulders and such until I reached the southernmost point of the USA:

  

  Yes, this woman is the southernmost point of the USA. They make her stand there all the time. Ha ha.

  Well, when I reached that point, I realized I had somehow missed the beach. I turned around and started walking the other way, through residential parts of Key West. They were pretty, but some were sort of run-down.

  

  

  I saw what appeared to be another tourist (carrying a Ron Jon Surf Shop bag) and asked if he knew how to get to the beach. Turns out this tree trimmer from Washington had been doing the same wandering beach-hunting trek. We found a taxi driver resting in a chair in front of his house and asked him. “Well, go to the naval base, go past the bunkers…” Boy, that beach was well hidden! Finally, there was the sign. And only $2.50 to walk in. What a non-bargain.

  

  But, I had found the BEACH! I was on the beach! In January! It didn’t matter that much of the shore was composed of this:

  

  There was enough sand to make a castle. (Someone else did it, not I.)
    
  
  And there were palm trees. REAL palm trees!

  
  

  And a coastline!

  

  And to prove that I was really there…

   

  And Peep was there in spirit.

   

  All too soon, I had to head back to the ship. But before I did, I thought it would be neat to stop by the Pirate Museum, since Key West is known for pirates and such. It was too late in the day for me to take a tour of the Museum, but I decided to go in the gift shop. It said that the gift shop was for ages 18 and up. “I guess there must be a lot of expensive things in there,” I thought. I went in and saw some lovely pirate costumes and things. And then, as I proceeded through the store, I realized I had wandered into a huge sex shop! I was really embarrassed. Duh. 18 and over. Duh. Oh, those pirates and their booty…

   

  Back to the ship on a trolley ride with a wonderful tour guide whose name was… um…something or other. He said he came to Key West on vacation with his wife and decided to move there and drive a trolley. And that is exactly what he did. (He’s the one who informed me about the chickens.)

  

  When I got back to the ship, I discovered that the earlier medicine had not helped poor Peep at all, and she had spend the afternoon being retch-ed over the few sips of ginger ale she had. So, it was back to the infirmary for a shot which did the trick, but knocked her out for the rest of the night. What was this horrible stomach problem? We now think it was the  stomach flu, as it was going around Curwensville (the small town where she lives) before she left.

  Anyhow, now you know how I wasted my day in Margaritaville. And I didn’t even lose a shaker of salt.

  

  • 10:12 pm
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