Belen called saying she saw me walking Cheyenne as she drove by on Duval. "You were photographing ladies' titties!" she giggled into the phone. Well yes except I'm not sure they were what you might call ladies. But I was walking Cheyenne.
It was hot and muggy and she enjoyed resting on the edge of the crowd and watching the world go by. She was less interested in nudity than in the street vendors:
I saw a woman standing in the street with a sign that read "Cock" which seemed a bit blunt. However there was a purpose to her crudity, and the purpose was sales.
There was another cock and tail on view to get the passersby-by attention.
Humor or g-string? There's something for everyone.
The Fantasy Zone is delineated by red tape appropriately enough, on the side streets leading from Duval Street. Inside the zone body paint, alcohol in plastic cups and and nudity that does not expose genitals is allowed, or perhaps encouraged. Beyond the tape things are supposed to return to normal.
I am not fond of plastic cups as a rule, but when you've seen a few thousand drunks crashing into each other on the street you understand why glass is prohibited.
Key West is catching up with the outside world, slowly slowly. In a century or two the bars will be recycling too and make a real dent in the cost of trash removal.
Don' like crowds?
Don't visit during Fantasy Fest!
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