Naked Sunfish Rides…er Swims? Again
by Rick Brown

It’s hard to believe this was our fifth foray down the Florida coast to the Keys for the men behind Naked Sunfish. Yet by our age you would think the passing of time would be too clichéd to comment ... not so. This year we were faced with an “orange alert” meaning that all liquids were banished from flights. So I Fed-Exed my toiletries to Key West. At the gate the security guard seemed to think it was suspicious for me to kiss my wife good-bye and tell her I loved her. What a world ... as the Wicked Witch lamented in a more innocent age. What a world!

Once past the security check I bought some Blistex and the woman at the register told me I could buy it ... but that it wasn’t allowed on the plane. Then she leaned over the counter and whispered in my ear, “But I don’t think you’ll get patted down.” Comforting. I immediately thought of those poor souls smuggling toothpaste by hiding it in their colon. Or desperate bad breathers filling condoms with Listerine, tying them closed and swallowing them for the flight. Of course I was pulled out of line for a “random security check”. It must have been my Panama hat and flowered shirt I suppose. I mean ... how many guys fly to Ft. Lauderdale dressed like that?

I was happy to meet my old buddy Dan. He had procured a convertible for our drive to Key West and I was anxious to get on the road. Last year we didn’t even get to Key West ... instead hanging our towels in Key Largo for the entire time. It was late afternoon. I had forgotten how long the drive might be. And leaving at 5 pm put us in traffic. And we were unaware the speed limit on the drive down drops by 10 miles per hour after dark. So, it took us over 5 hours ... mostly in the dark. Yet it was a refreshing change having the ragtop down, watching lightning and thunder over the Gulf of Mexico, and gazing at the stars immediately above our heads. And it’s always great to catch up on the guy talk.

We stopped at Lor E Lei’s on Islamorada ... a place we’ve frequented often in the past five years ... only to find it was being gentrified. Which is a nice way of saying it was transformed from a funky little place with good conch fritters and cold beer with music at sunset to a more “upscale” café with bad conch fritters ... really bad conch fritters. By the time this trip ended we unanimously decided we would no longer give our annual “best conch fritter” award. Too bad for Lor E Lie’s.

The final key before Key West is a deer sanctuary and the speed was a lazy 35 mph. Then it began raining and up went the convertible top. In the four times we’ve driven this far south we have yet to spot a deer ... which may be a very good thing.

Consequently we were both relieved to check in at the Sheraton in Key West around 10 pm. And I was even gladder when the desk clerk handed over my Fed-Exed toiletries. It is amazing how a 5-dollar, relatively warm beer from the mini-bar can seem like a bargain under such circumstances.

In the next few days we did realize there are some distinct advantages to going to Florida at the end of August. If you can dodge the hurricanes that is. For one thing ... . there are very few tourists. We met some Europeans at the Sheraton’s lovely pool area sure. But American tourists ... especially those with children ... are nowhere to be found. And our room was an economically priced suite that may easily cost twice as much in the high season.

Dan and I spent the next day ... after an in room breakfast that wasn’t such a good deal ... touring around Key West. I like the place. And our old haunt Captain Tony’s hasn’t changed a bit. Except that Captain Tony wasn’t there. He turned 90 this year so maybe he was resting up or something. A guy’s gotta get his rest if he’s going to tell stories about hanging out with Ernest Hemingway all night. Carl Peachey was playing that afternoon and he was great. I bought a CD and told him I appreciated the fact that he didn’t play typical Key West tourist tunes. To which he replied, “Yes I do”. Sheesh ... I of all people should know that playing in front of 7 people affords you the opportunity to play whatever you damned well pleased!

In the early evening Dan and I made the rounds and found another eatery ... .Billie’s ... was now Red Fish Blue Fish. But unlike Lor E Lei’s this place had actually improved ... greatly. We played a game with the waiter ... Dan’s idea. If we couldn’t guess where he was from by the time our check came we’d give him 20 bucks extra on the tip. The food was fabulous! Especially the Mahi Mahi “sliders”. What a great idea!! Our waiter was excellent despite the fact both of us were on about our ... oh ... 11th beer of the day. Dan guessed he was from the Czech Republic. I guessed Latvia ... don’t ask me why. The young guy stuck his chest out and proudly proclaimed his homeland to be Poland. Being a middle-aged guy from Cleveland I had to bite my lip ... hard. But although our huge tip baffled him he seemed pretty happy dealing with tourists who actually over tipped.

It was around this time that the thought occurred to me: a lot of Florida residents are actually tourists who have moved there. That might explain the eclectic mix of rednecks, Cubans, Eskimos, and ... well ... the Polish.

We made our way back to Captain Tony’s to listen to our good buddy Gary Hempsey (http://www.garyhempsey.com). Dan and I met Gary on our very first Naked Sunfish excursion and it’s a tradition to listen to him. He said some very nice things about our web magazine. And we played a lot of pool and continued our beer consumption. The thing I love about Gary is that he is not only a great vocalist and guitar player ... but he is one of the best I have seen with between song patter. At one point in the evening Dan was feeling pretty friendly and began talking ... as well as he could ... to a woman who was with her two daughters. They were on a vacation and were from Bogotá, Columbia ... knew very little English ... yet had a strong desire to hear “Hotel California” ... which Gary had played just before they walked in. The following conversation went like this:

Dan – “HEY! Gary! Play Hotel California will ya!!?”
Gary – “I just fucking PLAYED “Hotel California!”
Dan – “Play “Hotel California!!”
Gary – “I just played “Hotel California”! Haven’t you been fucking listening?”
Dan- “But these women came all the way from Bogotá, Columbia! And they want to hear “Hotel California.”

Gary Hempsey then turned to face the women and said ... with earnest sincerity: “Can you get me some WEED!?”

The memory still cracks me up. And Gary played yet another delightful rendition of “Hotel California” and even segued into “Desperado” for good measure. What a guy! Maybe I should say “what a fucking great guy!!!”

Suffice it to say, we hit it pretty hard that night. And when I got up at 3:30 am to go to the bathroom there was Dan messing around on his laptop. Needless to say we slept in the next morning. And we went to good old Waffle House ... a bargain in any city. And yet another Florida cultural experience.

The drive up to Boca Raton proved even longer than the drive down. But both of us were feeling the effects of Keys culture ... or lack thereof ... and it rained off and on. Ordinarily Boca Raton would not be a destination for Rick and Dan. But the James Gang was playing there on our final night. It rained on and off so we made the best of it chatting and being quiet in that way people who actually like each other can do without it being weird. I suppose being somewhat hung over contributed.

We had a nice room at the Marriott across the street from the beach. There was a small typhoon early in the evening so we chilled. Dan was sound asleep at 9:30 or so. Such an outlaw he is!! And the next day the weather was gorgeous so we hung around the “adults only” pool ... there were two, one for families and one childfree ... most of the day, had a nice meal and took in the concert that night. More of the wide spectrum of Floridians were on display there as well ... . although I didn’t notice many Polish. And I’m not sure I’d go back to Boca Raton. That’s one change we can change back. Unless Led Zeppelin gets back together and plays Boca Raton ... which is highly unlikely.

The morning of our departure we strolled along the streets of this elite tourist town looking for a breakfast nook. But most native Floridians ... those catering to the tourist industry at least ... must take their vacations late in August. It makes sense considering the unpredictable weather and lack of visitors. We ended up going back to the hotel restaurant. But before we did I approached a middle-aged guy sitting in an Adirondack chair directly in front of a closed café. He looked the biker type with tattoos all over his arms and legs ... handlebar moustache. Breaking the stereotype was a little pug dog scampering around his ample lap. I walked up and told him I liked his pup and petted the dog. I told him I had a small dog ... wasn’t sure I’d like a small dog ... but I thought they were great. And this big biker type guy looks at me and says, “Yeah. I used to have big dogs ... a pit bull and a Doberman.” Then he scooped the tiny pup up in his massive hands, turned the dog so they faced each other ... and with a playful shake said to his pet, “But I LOVE this little guy to DEATH!!!”

That’s what makes traveling so much fun ... the people you meet. You just never know. Another great trip with lifelong friend Danny. And I hope the housekeeping people realized I left my toiletries there for them in the room. Except for the tube of Blistex ... which I again smuggled aboard the plane ... in my ... er ... pocket ... of course.