Wrecking and Walking

We haven't been out for a while early in the morning so when Rusty stuck his cold wet nose in my armpit at 4:45 in the morning I figured he deserved a pre-dawn city walk.

Tift Alley, above, is named for Asa Tift a wealthy Key West businessman who added to his wealth with waterfront warehouses and the business of wrecking. Wrecking is a much misunderstood trade which is not surprising  considering no one has done it legally for a good few decades. 

Wrecking was a salvage business and wreckers saved lives and cargoes if not the ships carrying them when they hit the reef. Where wrecking got a bit dodgy to put it mildly was when the wreckers set the ships up to go aground by putting out misleading lights at night. Done legally it was quite the business and gave people the opportunity to make  a fortune from a dangerous business. 

Key West thrived from the shipping that passed through the city. The latest European fashions were seen here first as traders stopped on their way to the big wealthy cotton cities of the south, Galveston, New Orleans and Apalachicola. They didn't have the Internet but they had catalogues and ordered furniture and furnishings and clothes from London and Paris. And when the ships ran aground trying to get into the harbor the wreckers salvaged the cargo and were awarded values by the courts. 

Nowadays bars are the goldfields but not for everyone it seems. IC  Doubles caused a stir by closing temporarily which is generally viewed as permanent until proved wrong. That didn't last. The place on Fitzpatrick that never seems to make it hasn't in it's latest dog friendly incarnation. 

I liked it when it was a Spanish sandwich shop  a couple of incarnations ago. It became some other stuff including an Italian place spun off  from the successful Onlywood but that didn't last either. The latest version has closed for a long vacation and Henry and Eli's to my chagrin welcomed dogs. Who knew? Not me, and now it seems to be too late. They'll be back they promise after an unspecified vacation. 

Duval Street is where the action is. Except at five in the morning when it's me and Rusty and later some street cleaners. 

CVS on Duval, one of the many chain pharmacies littering Key West these days, distinguishes itself by showing off local art, a tradition of the former tenant, the late lamented Fast Buck FReddie's Tropical Department Store. Pretty cool, and the store is open 24 hours if you need a beach ball at two in the morning. Or sunscreen. In this town one doesn't ask what for.

With the arrival of dawn we are both  hot and tired though I'm not dragging my tongue.

Wendy's proudly offers to sell you plastic bottled water in defiance of all currently approved eco norms.

While the other highly fashionable product is CBD, cannabidiol which we are reliably informed won't give anxious humans a buzz though it is some sort of highly fashionable cure all snake oil. I have been advised it will calm a dog during a thunderstorm. An actual cure all. Had the surgeon rubbed it on my spatchcocked pelvis I'd probably be lifting world record setting weights by now.

Rusty didn't need CBD for a deep restful sleep after two hours walking. And neither did I.

Open For Business

During the hurricane and the immediate aftermath I was grateful for Facebook ans the lines of communication it offered. However that period of information exchange has reverted to business as usual making it too much of a place to whinge and trade barbs so I have veered away. However the last I was reading people are or were, still complaining about premature tourist visitation. That ship has sailed. Or, more accurately that cruise ship has long since landed. There was one Tuesday peeking over the roof tops:

The other side of the Keys is being tended to, more or less well according to who you talk to by the Red Cross on Flagler Avenue and FEMA, the federal emergency management people at the firehouse on Simonton Street:

I took a walk downtown after my exercise class finished trying to wipe me out on Tuesday and I poked my iPhone into a few corners of Duval to see what's what. The long and the short is that things are picking up even if it wasn't madly busy. It usually isn't anyway this time of year. Sloppy Joe's:

 I thought about rolling up the sidewalk as I looked south on Duval Street:

 But there were people having fun in the place so I left them to it:

Rick's was dead quiet and Smokin' Tuna around the corner was promising to open for evening entertainment. The Red Garter had at least some naked women to display judging by the open door. For some (strange) people that about takes care of Key West and everything you need to know.

Then there is the promise of Fantasy Fest scheduled to start the last full week of October the 20th with parties and the promise of  forbidden delights of the flesh. In the spirit of preparation the city has put out bundles of barricades for use during the Grand Parade the Saturday night that wraps the week up. I wonder what sort of parade it will be this year with so much effort going into rebuilding lives. Building a one time use float by contrast seems like a bit of a waste of energy to me.

The al fresco drinking at the Bull where smoking is encouraged which means I'll never get to check the interior of the place. Not that there's much to check. I have never been inside Ricks, The Bull or Sloppy Joe's or Irish Kevin's but Captain Tony's I did once have a beer in because a friend wanted a souvenir mug (true story). I am just not much attracted to the noise and crush of drinking in places like that. I still miss Finnegan's Wake. 

Your dream job, one of three to support life in these Keys, is opening up at Shorty's Market right in the heart of Duval: 

Irish Kevin's blasting music appealed not one jot to me. My idea of an Irish Pub is a place of pregnant pauses and long silences and appreciative beer tasting. The Croc store is not a bargain hunter's delight either and I don't pay full price. I might if they sold pink men's in size 13 but they are gone forever apparently. 

 Not a place to sup craft ales and contemplate the meaning of life or the craft of writing. Maybe I'm wrong but I'll never know:

 I have absolutely no clue why this picture ended up in my camera but here it is. A mystery. I guess people really were walking on Duval...

 Yes, there were a few at Greene and Duval:

Rental scooters are back filling the free two wheeler parking spaces. At least the trash and debris is gone opening up more room.

And electric cars are back too, creating their own hazards as their drivers treat the public streets as playgrounds.

 Willie T's took some of the most severe damage during the storm when the big tree fell down and knocked the place about. Drama queens used images of the bar as a sample of the destruction wrought by Hurricane Irma when it was the Lower keys outside Key West that got beaten up.

 In any event they are back:

 The San Carlos hasn't changed one bit as clam and serene as ever:

Not sure why Duval was closed but this sort of thing happens all the time, usually for street cleaning, but if you are irritated by this stuff you might not want to visit quite yet. Things are not entirely back to normal.

 Upper Duval (the south end) looking the same as it ever was:

Sunday Pictures

It was like Rusty saw the sign on the tricycle and posed, without a word from me.

Fausto's business hours etched in air conditioning humidity. That's how hot and sticky it is outdoors at the moment. 

There has bene a consistent breeze this August which has been unexpected and delightful. 

Along with sudden summer downpours making puddles and reflections everywhere.

La Concha Hotel on Duval Street

I am very fond of Williams' guidebook and glad to see it is still in print. And I am not fond of iguanas.

Duval Street early morning quiet:

Tutu Tuesday

A friend of mine suggested Tutu Tuesday is the most popular Fantasy Fest event for locals, vying with the local's parade ("Masquerade March") on Friday for the title of most desirable event. After my walk around yesterday I'm wondering if I shouldn't get a tutu next year for my dog: Rusty had a blast.

I saw the crowd pictured above on Whitehead Street but I held out little hope of finding parking for the Fusion. I drove up Greene with a no hope attitude, especially when I saw these old goats dragging their feet on their Harleys, imitating the scooter rider above who was actually stopped. Foot dragging to me is a sign of not being in control of your machine and riding badly while I'm stuck in a car (sorry Rusty) is slightly aggravating. Put your feet on the floorboards and learn to control your machine with your balance. Rant over.

 Walking back to Duval Street from Greene and Simonton I stopped some kind folks and asked for a picture. Like this lot:

Rusty was sniffing bushes and drains, as you do, while I was talking toa friend when a nice lady came up and made a fuss of the dog. She said she read the blog but didn't want to be "on the Internet" (too late for that methinks in the modern era) so I deleted the picture of her rather nice smile and offer these fine folks instead, in the spirit of Tutu Tuesday. In these situations I ask myself what their neighbors would say Up North if they knew these upstanding citizens were parading around in public in toile and crepe chinoise and showing off the tops of their legs?

 I lack the necessary nerve to dress up like this but it does seem to be a popular way to spend a Tuesday afternoon with assorted bars offering venues for night time parading around in inappropriate clothing.  My surprise was Rusty. Six months ago he was a timid little street dog afraid of every sound and squeak. Yesterday he turned in another bravura performance as Master of his Domain.

He strode among the freaks and tutus with aplomb, tail up high like a feathery flag fluttering between the legs and precariously carried drinks.

When he meets other dogs, especially his own size or larger he used to get defensive but he was on Duval to party yesterday. His tail fluttered like a flag in a gale and he pranced like he wanted to play and run. I'd never seen that before especially in such a crowded noisy place. 

He practically started purring as the bouncer chatted about fake IDs for youngsters and how he spent a fortune treating his old rescue dog's teeth. Nice guy he had a tattoo of his 17 year old animal on his bicep. I'm not doing that!

 French tutu exponents:

 I don't know what to say. Everyone was determined to look ridiculous. It was very laid back and fun.

And here he was again, and I wished we in an open space like a field where they could have run and chased each other as much as they wanted too.

 Perfume seller trying to get Rusty to take  a sample. He was not playing. I wasn't either when they suggested their grossly over priced wares make good gifts. These stores are a disgrace to Key West famous for over charging the unwary and taking advantage of incautious shoppers.

One good thing about tutus compared to other more elaborate costumes is that you can ride a bike or scooter in one.

 Or simply go for a walk.

 Key West being the town it is Rusty had his own comfort stations posted along the sidewalk.

Alcohol nudity and crowds of people unused to either, yet it was a serene cheerful afternoon for all concerned.

The only thing that did freak Rusty out was this idly wandering human cockroach. His nerves got so jangled he wrapped himself round a lamp post and we had to have a little time out.

 These two left him indifferent:

 It was time for some rest and for once I happened to be walking with a ten dollar bill in my pocket.

Half of it went on this bottle and if you think that's expensive you should check hotel prices during Fantasy Fest in Key West. They'll make you want to put on mascara to hide your tears and a tutu to jolly yourself up.