New Town Vignettes

There are times when I'm out in public that I like to make a joke, an unconsidered trifle when I meet a stranger. I was at Gordon Food Service, Key West's only warehouse bulk grocery store buying mineral water. I walked up to the store after I carefully left the camera in the car and went to take a cart from the pile out front. I said to the employee "I'm sorry to wreck your display," to which the employee grinned and said: "Help yourself, it's not a display, it's Art," and we shared a laugh. So often I meet people who either don't have a clue what I'm talking about, don't speak English at all, never mind playing with words...the rare occasion I connect it's a red letter day and I had left the camera in the car. Oh well. This motorcycle is frankly just too weird for me, ape hanger handlebars, primary drive belt exposed and no front fender. This too might be art but it barely seems rideable. Perhaps it's art because I am too much of a doofoos to ride it... Looking at a large pile of bougainvillea cuttings I remembered my own little bush drowned in a downpour we had months ago. Mine is a pile of twigs which is a sad reminder I alone am unable to grow this plant.These people had bougainvillea to spare. And then I passed the mystery car, a Pontiac shrouded and from what little I could see painted matt black.Perhaps I will one day see it around town. If it is in working order I probably shall, as that is the nature of life in a small space, everyone comes by sooner or later. And then my favorite sign, supporting the high school athletes.The billboard at Key West High calls them the "fighting Conchs." The murderous mollusks. The aggressive abalone. It just sounds rather odd.

Snakes And Ladders

Reporting for some overtime Friday night I walked up to the police station where I saw a feral cat in the lobby, prowling about. It ran off as I approached but suddenly a red snake darted out from behind the column as I walked by in my shorts. It gave me a heart stopping shock, even though it missed my hairy leg. It's the first time a snake had lunged at me.I went for my camera as the snake crawled up the column in the lobby and by the time I was organized it was shooting the moon. I think the cat had made the snake cranky but I couldn't remember for the life of me how the ditty goes about red next to black or yellow next to red to identify a poisonous coral snake.It look mean enough as it "snaked" up the vertical column.Inside the police station I found Officer Biskup who thought the drama sounded interesting so he called out a flag down by a Ten-37 (a dispatcher in ten codes). We went back out to move the snake along before a visitor to the police station got freaked out or bitten. I put Eric's bullet proof vest between me and the snake. A matter of mere prudence, you understand. I had my uniform long pants in a bag so my legs were naked in my civilian shorts and I felt vulnerable.I tell Eric he reminds me of Vic Mackey the wildly corrupted cop in The Shield, in my opinion one of the best cop shows I've seen on Netflix. He looks at me a bit old fashioned when I mention the similarity but I think Biskup and the actor Michael Chiklis were separated at birth.

Be that as it may Eric moved the snake along out of the lobby with his night stick.I had thought maybe we could wake the fire department up next door with their padded fire clothes and buckets they seem well equipped to move a snake on. Eric disagreed and scooted the snake into the parking lot where it was reluctant to go as I think it feared the cat returning.I have known Eric for seven years when he was a sergeant and my shift commander when I first went to nights and was learning to dispatch. He went away for a couple of years to police the wide world of the continental US and then he came back to where his home really is. With the snakes, apparently which he likes as little as I do.With the snake safely lost in the mangroves I went to work and Eric cleared the call telling Channel One to have the victim's advocate on stand by for me. Very funny- all report calls all the time for Officer Biskup when next I'm dispatching. Police officers know better than to piss off their dispatcher.

Upstairs the Conch (the "h" is silent) Karl identified the snake as a corn snake and harmless. " I got bitten by one two weeks ago and I barely felt it," he said smiling cheerfully. Well it could have been a deadly coral snake I consoled myself.

Trapped Dog

I love my dog, not least because she is a sweet and unassuming Labrador who has lived a hard life, totally undeserved. Since I got her from the SPCA on Stock Island 18 months ago I have seen Cheyenne turn into a smart and cheerful companion with the unexpected capacity to make me laugh. I enjoy walking her and allowing her the time to pause and sniff and be a dog, and I let her wander off leash as much and as often as I can, usually away from traffic; though she is very obedient the smell of food will distract her when I call.

We were out walking last Friday and I was playing with the sepia setting on my camera. Cheyenne was wandering back and forth snorting as she sniffed and vacuumed up smells and disgusting things to eat, as she does. It was all terribly bucolic, until I heard a change in her tone and she started grunting and wheezing like a steam engine on a grade. I had the presence of mind to photograph her in her embarrassment but only in sepia; I was in a hurry to release her. She was stuck in the cleft in the rocks.

I put my hands under her chest and heaved her out. She walked two steps behind me back to the car rather disconsolately as though the adventure had knocked the stuffing out of her. At home she tottered slowly up the steps shrugging off my attempts to help. After dinner she lay down and slept loud and long, rumbling and snuffling as she does when in a deep sleep. I crept off to bed and the last I heard was the sounds of a Labrador on the bamboo floor reverberating like heavy machinery as she slept off the last effects of her adventure. Silly dog.

Smurf Village

The awarding of nicknames is a popular past time in Key West. So when they built mushroom shaped duplexes in New Town the nickname came easily. The homes aren't that big, compared to say, a semi truck......but they are distinctive.The top floor is larger than the downstairs in these homes and they have a hexagonal shape so naturally to a Conch they look like Smurf homes. So the neighborhood is now known informally a s"Smurf Village." It makes sense.Some of the homes have elaborate yards but others appear to have fallen prey to the economic times and appear unused.During the boom years these homes sold for prices hovering around the half million dollar mark. In Key West they rate as fairly large with privacy and yards of their own and if they have no off street parking the streets are not choked with cars.And even though it's New Town that doesn't mean there isn't landscaping.Key West, home to diversity in housing, including Smurfs.

Faded Fishermen

Cheyenne was having a really good time and I was bored so I fiddled with my camera's sepia setting.I finished the paper and stared at the sky for a while and still Cheyenne was in the bushes rooting around and snuffling like a pig after truffles. Ooh look, I thought. Fishermen! I wonder what they look like drained of color...It's a hell of a profile, a timeless scene of men hunting and gathering and killing wildlife.I am endlessly fascinated by men who stand around waving bendy rods at fish. The fascination totally escapes me, yet I know I am the one who fails to understand something real and important because men come in their hundreds of thousands to the Florida Keys to stand around like this. And quite a few women too I am led to understand. For me it is sufficient to stand around and enjoy the view.

There is a fisherman in this next picture, his knee spoils the effect completely of the line of abandoned poles.On the other side of the hill real world full color fishing looked like this:I'm telling you, people love to fish.

Gary At El Mocho

Before he finished his vacation GarytheTourist wanted to meet for one last breakfast and I figured that a truly local's place is El Mocho on Stock Island. The wonky thing about Key West is the constant search for what locals do and where they eat and so forth, so I figured a proper greasy spoon would do. Eggs and bacon and grits and con leche.We went all the way and had a slice of American cheese on the grits. It may be disappointing but local's food is not fancy nor is it the place to see or be seen. El Mocho serves Cuban food for lunch and enough of it that one plate serves two, which makes eating here economical. Not romantic but not pricey.El Mocho offers no air conditioning if you want to be coddled but it is a refuge from the bright summer sunlight outside.We walked Cheyenne for a bit and talked and Gary left me some discs of pictures he's taken around here. I plan to use them during the month of July while I'm on vacation riding a motorcycle in mountains.I gave Gary the lowdown on life in the Keys as I see it and he took my observations in good part, so perhaps listening to me rant is better than eating grits with American cheese. It doesn't sound like much of a choice to me. The next time you're on a Key West forum and they are asking where the locals eat and you see a list of names that doesn't include El Mocho you will know what to think. Bring your white rubber boots, just like the commercial fishermen do. On second thoughts, don't because the boots are their prized and privileged uniform, just come as you are.