The Florida Keys

The Florida Keys are an island chain petering off Florida’s southern coast, famous for beautiful blue-green water seemingly unblemished by pollution – and, yes, unaffected by the BP spill (as far as we could tell). Unlike the fishing industries impacted by the spill, the Keys house a small population that thrives on exotic residential housing and year-round tourism.

Key West, the end of the Keys by road and southernmost area of the contiguous United States, was our destination. Inspired by my friends’ journey, we considered Dry Tortugas (island accessible by ferry), but soon found that the 150-mile drive from Miami to Key West was quite far enough. On a typical freeway, we may have decimated that distance in under two hours; the 1 highway, on the other hand, was almost always single-lane once we departed the mainland.

Several small towns lined the 1 on the strips of land that connected the highway more often than not, to our surprise: the long causeways over water, which we assumed would be the norm, were really only located at the end of the drive before Key West. Shell shops, an airfield, a diving museum, several bars and restaurants: these color the road and contrast the gas stations and multitude of Burger King joints.

Many of the beachfront properties are sheltered from the road by fauna.

The blue-green water playfully laps at the private beaches we blow by, and despite their frequency, Eric and I still point out palatial estates in wonder and envy. For most of the Seven Mile Bridge about 40 miles out of Key West, we endured our new Florida friend, the temporary tropical shower, and beat it out by the time we hit the end of the road.

For the first half of the island, Key West is a trickster, masquerading as a typical suburban community with chains and parking lots and fast food. Once the 1 trickles into the western half, mom-and-pop inns and bed-and-breakfasts pop up with alarming frequency, and the suburban malaise gives way to little shops and churches. By the time the 1 hits Duval Street, the de facto main street of Key West, the island resembles Nantucket.

Since we were wholeheartedly embracing our “no plan” plan, Eric and I stopped at the first place that looked good, a restaurant called Fogarty’s, which claimed to sell a Dolphin Sandwich, but upon inquiry our waiter told me on the sly that it was just Mahi Mahi. My palate craves exotic foods, and today, it was disappointed.

Look closely: below the right edge of the sign is a picture of Hemingway, the giant marlin on its left and a propeller below the sign's left edge.

I got a tip from my dad to get a drink at Sloppy Joe’s. Why? Because Hemingway used to frequent the bar during his days in Key West, and it was named after his friend “Sloppy” Joe. The drinks were, as Eric put it, “pretty stiff,” and he pointed to the menu, which notes “Our drinks have a pour of 20% more!” Well played, Sloppy Joe’s. Pictures of Hemingway crop up around the bar, along with a massive marlin and airplane prop. Customers regularly flowed and the bartenders rang bells – perhaps for a customer ordering their signature drink, the Sloppy Rita, which is choice – and a staffer played acoustic guitar on stage. Once he started seeing customers come in dripping, he played CCR’s “Have You Ever Seen The Rain,” and we realized progressing with our day would be a little harder now that downtown was beset with serious downpour.

Looking out of Sloppy Joe's front door.

With time leaking out of our coin-fed parking meter, we decided that we needed to get to island’s edge and see the Gulf of Mexico from the end of the United States. We downed the last of our liquid courage, grabbed a bag to cover my camera from the gift shop and darted into the torrent. We discovered later from the locals that the streets were flooding from high tide – no place for the rainwater to go. Which was comforting news when we sloshed through ankle-deep streets to get to the dock at the end of Duval Street. Soaked and squelching, we made it. Take that, rain! It did, indeed, take it, letting up two minutes after we reached the talk. COOL.

We figured that was enough adventure for one day, and humped our soggy selves back to the car to begin the three-hour drive home.

Postscript: I decided I needed to plant my feet in the Gulf of Mexico since we didn’t get a chance in Key West. We parked and hit up a dock for a seemingly uninhabited little motel, and in my haste to get in the water, I chose a deceptively mossy rock to sink in. I lost footing and busted my knee, but manned up and stood my ground for an epic picture before limping back to the car. Thanks for everything, Keys.

Photo artfully cropped to protect the squeamish.

DO NOT STOP SHARKS WILL JUMP

Big Pine Key holds a population of endangered Key deer, with other signs noting, “SPEED KILLS KEY DEER”

Many of the beachfront properties are sheltered from the road by fauna.

Look closely: below the right edge of the sign is a picture of Hemingway, the giant marlin on its left and a propeller below the sign’s left edge.

Looking out of Sloppy Joe’s front door.

Photo artfully cropped to protect the squeamish.