Monday, June 29, 2020

Mallory Morning

Where were you last Friday morning having breakfast? Not here I doubt, sharing a waterfront view with three pigeons and a friend.
I cannot imagine the day might come where I might find a refreshing night's sleep waiting for me in the public space that is Mallory Square, and I have done some rough sleeping in my time, but Key West is a different space for different folks. 
I did not pose Rusty but I do feel the picture accurately reflects his feelings about chickens. He will cross the street rather than share the sidewalk with a chicken. He takes social distancing to extremes with wild chickens. I applaud his wisdom as he got chased down Appelrouth one time by a chicken and I dropped the leash in surprise and had to hare after him. And keep ahead of the chicken.  Discretion is decidedly the better part of valor when it comes to the wildlife in town.
I don't recall why I took the picture below but I applaud my good taste. It looks like I might even have painted it, which I did not as my talent extends nowhere, but it is growing happily alongside the Key West Welcome Center at Mallory Square. The public restrooms at Mallory Square are not open in case you were wondering. I wonder about that a lot, as it happens. The coronavirus has a lot to answer for.
I stood there for a few minutes and watched the comings and goings, on the water...and I was not alone in my pleasure.
I don't know what he was expecting to see or who he was waiting for but there was an intensity, a longing perhaps that made me hope that whatever it was he got the full measure of it eventually.
I took this next picture to post on Instagram "one if by sea, two if by land" but after a conversation I had at the liquor store I'm not sure the joke would carry over too well. 
I went to Walgreens liquors for a bottle of the hard stuff my wife wanted, inexplicably as she isn't much of a drinker and she doesn't bake so bourbon seemed out of character. I nevertheless hastened to obey and found myself with a giant bottle of Four Roses cradled in my arms. The woman wants bourbon she gets bourbon and if I buy the biggest demijohn in the store some may be left over for yours truly after she's finished tippling. "Time to refill on the demon drink" I remarked to the excessively young clerk who looked at me in horror: "Demon drink?" she said shocked. "Well, you know" I stuttered clutching my giant bottle ever tighter, "Prohibition and all that" I said noticing it wasn't quite eleven o'clock and I felt like a dipsomaniac of long standing. She looked at me as though I were mad and I couldn't figure out how to escape so i kept digging and mentioned 1920 a hundred years ago and so forth. "my family hadn't even arrived here in 1920." she snorted. It turns out Jamaica didn't have prohibition, which I knew, but she thought that fact exempted her from thinking about an era in the US when alcohol was illegal. Anyway she looked at me and said "I was born in 1995 and what happened in 1920...." her squawk of indignation faded away and I shuffled out backwards as though departing the presence of royalty.   History ain't what it used to be. Or knowledge of history at any rate.
Gratuitous Rusty photo resting after his morning's labors.