There are days when the heat gets too much for me, and that's saying something. I revel in being warm, sweat lubricates me, humidity reassures me that I am still alive still able to breathe, still one with the program. I listen to people who come to Key West and complain about the temperatures, as though it should come as any kind of surprise that Key West would be hot in the summer.
In the deserts of the south west temperatures routinely climb into the 100's and as high as 120, sometimes more, and people say they prefer that heat because its dry. As though cracked fingernails and hair dehydrated like straw is a good thing. In the Keys its a hot day when the temperature climbs over 95, and beyond Key West proper the temperatures always seem a little more bearable given how much less cement and asphalt there is outside the city. When I ride into town on a summer afternoon I can feel the hotter air hit me as I cross the Cow Key Bridge. By contrast my home on rural Ramrod Key frequently benefits from the lightest of sea breezes ruffling the foliage of the mature trees that surround and cool my house. Shavers Lane, just off Duval street positively shimmers with white hot heat of a July afternoon:
I spotted a black doorway on another side street and was shocked to realise the door was open, and even though the interior was plunged into darkness the lack of air conditioning must have had the occupants panting:
I enjoy the heat but the blessings of air conditioning shouldn't be underestimated, and I very much enjoy the cool of my home, especially when sleeping (and I do a lot of that in the heat of the day as i work nights). There are a lot of homes down here without air, or that choose not to use air. In the height of summer my 800 square foot home costs about $130 a month to cool. In the winter our monthly bills drop to around $35. The numbers aren't high but its clear the air is what sucks up the juice.
Some unsuspecting visitors rent bicycles, and then find they have to pause for refreshment in any available patch of shade to catch their breaths:
Others rent electric cars that don't have air but they do have a roof for mobile shade:
Motorcycles work though their seats can get burning hot if you leave them in the sun and plan on riding them in shorts:
Moped renters would be the despair of all those who fervently proclaim the value of protective clothing while riding:
At the end of the mobility food chain we find people actually taking the time to walk in the heat. Visitors for some reason like to walk on the sunny side of the street, while slippery locals, like me, snap pictures from the shady side:
Some walkers, even though choosing to walk on the sunny side of the street carry refrigeration with them:
These women were admiring the gruesome t-shirts displayed in the shop window, in a previous essay I wondered who it is that likes to buy I love to fart t-shirts. Happily these three bemused French tourists declined the opportunity:
I don't think this message got through to them either though I expect that being French, they would have handled the message outside a well known gay bar, with continental aplomb:
Doesn't that man look horribly sunburned, poor thing? Talking of sunburn and I am forced to remind myself some people in Key West have to work for a living:
I think this guy is a little to fair skinned to be out with a buzz cut and no hat:
For some people though work is a loosely defined term, such as standing in your shop doorway, smoking a cigarette and watching the girls flounce by:
One such stopped at a booth to...use the phone. Look closely because you won't see this scene very often anymore, a young person dropping a coin...though I have to confess I forgot my phone at home while taking these pictures and was glad for the use of old fashioned pay phones to keep in touch:
In passing I looked up the alleyway next to the Opera restaurant and was surprised not to see groups of heat refugees huddling desperate in the shade:
On the other hand many visitors to Key West have a very clear idea of what to do about the heat:
Margaritaville was packed of course, though they don't need heat to encourage the punters to sidle up to the bar and waste away for a while:
Me? I kept walking, I had pictures to take and places to go and a Bonneville to find somewhere down town. No moaning either, I love the heat, no matter how hard it makes it to find one's motorcycle again.
