Around Mallory

Vacation tends to end on the weekend. The week starts on Saturday when lines of cars come into town from Miami. On Sunday the lines snake north as flights wait to return them to the workaday world Up North.

This winter I've seen lots of European and Japanese motorcycles in the Keys competing with Harleys and Indians. This fine aggressive blacked out cruiser was in fact a modest Honda Shadow, and for all that it is considered an entry level cruiser it looked well loved and used.

 This is an example of how not to park your motorcycle in shared free parking on the street street. A few minutes later the elderly couple riding the big red bike were off down Duval and I doubt anyone noticed the gaffe. Later in the day this Eaton Street strip fills up.

 Mel Fisher museum, one of my favorites and time for a new visit.

 Clinton Square Market, a 19th century shipping warehouse:

The Custom House with its steeply pitched roof ready for winter snows on the northern border. I wonder who decided to ruin the picture by planting a  utility pole right there? Aesthetics are not a high priority for power lines one has to suppose.

 Wall Street early in the morning:

 El Meson de Pepe gift shop on Mallory Square:

 And there is the waterfront with Sunset Key in the background:

Mangrove Rusty

I've assembled a few pictures from my walks with Rusty in assorted locations in the Lower Keys.

 The mud comes off easily enough with a garden hose at home, but the views stay imprinted.

 I do get to snag some wildlife from time to time.

 Lacking elevation the scenery distinctions are subtle. This is Sugarloaf Key.

 This is Middle Torch.

 And this is a happy dog.

 My impression of a Clyde Butcher black and white.

 He uses huge apparatus that gives amazingly crisp giant prints. 

 I am rather too impatient.

 You'd think I asked him to pose but he is actually camera aware and shy.

 Me with my walking-stick-with-a-seat. I can walk nearly a mile seven months after the wreck.

Red mangroves in salt water.

 My impression of a Japanese water color:

 Sunrise:

Have a great weekend!

Duval Mall

From five this afternoon until midnight tonight the 600 and 700 blocks of Duval will be pedestrian only. This plan has been years in the making and for some reason the city centered it in the middle of Duval Street, not in the two and three hundred blocks where the bars are located.

 It has been going for several weekends, Friday and Saturday nights and by all accounts it has been a huge success with lots of people, plenty of cops on foot patrol and no problems. 

This plan was to end after the last weekend in April but now will continue into July to see if the winter success will continue during the quieter summer months. Business owners are clamoring for it to be spread wider on Duval Street next winter.  There is some opposition focused on the cost to the city for policing which amounts to about $5,000 a night. 

I enjoy wandering Duval and the side streets as I always find places to photograph on and off the beaten path. This is the back of the Red Ban theater, normally accessed from the 300 block of Duval Street:

Duval, named for the first governor of the new territory of Florida after the purchase from Spain, always attracts pedestrians and bicycles as well as cars cruising. 

The idea with the mall concept is to bring locals back downtown as well as giving tourists somewhere to walk safely after dark. Not that Key West is particularly unsafe, it's just that a tourist town has to cater to peoples' fears I suppose.

 This is the Curry Mansion on Caroline Street which is near the main section with the bars and when you see architecture like this downtown yu want people to pause and notice it. At least I do.

 And there's a chimney for those cold winter nights...

The barricades are ready for tonight's festivities:

Eat, Shop, Chill...not a bad program for a weekend evening.

Buying Happiness

Ever since last weekend I have been pestering my friends about something that took place and set my over active mind to pondering. I took the picture below at the excellent donut shop downtown that makes astonishingly creative pieces of fried dough. So much so the line wasn't moving as analysis paralysis overtook the customer at the head of the line. brought face to face with the fruit donuts, the chocolate donuts, the Key lime fluffery, so you can empathize with the difficulty of choosing.

I leaned on my cane and waited. I was under orders to take home doughnuts to satisfy my wife's sudden unaccountable craving.  And the whole shopping experience went to pieces. The  surly dude behind the counter ignored my jocularity in regards to the infant he was carrying on his chest. He got mad when I slid the large tip jar aside to ease access to the credit card reader and then he had the effrontery to spin the computer screen toward me asking for a tip, you know the one where you chose 15 20 25 or more percent to add to your bill. I always over tip especially in the Keys where the cost of living is extravagant and the saying "if you can't afford the tip you can't afford the meal" applies more than most places. I added 20 percent while asking rather snarkily if he would smile for 25%. A smile, he replied equally snarkily, is no sign of interior happiness. It expresses joy to passers by I said. Besides he said if you lived in Key West you'd know there's no reason to smile. 

He should never have said that because that notion set me off. I looked at him and replied (I'm not proud of this but it had to be said): I've been answering 911 calls in Key West for 15 years listening all night to people in distress and last August a distracted driver killed me on Highway One and I still can't walk properly but I smile because a smile I hope makes the world a better place. And I turned my back on his  startled  expression slowly, so as not to lose my balance and limped out with my box of half a dozen doughnuts. They were excellent, I will miss them. 

What got to me was that he sells doughnuts for a living out of his own shop in Key West and does it successfully I guess, as they have been there for five years. And now he has a new born child and he is too bloody unhappy to sell his cakes with a  smile? Just because he thinks I'm a tourist? It's donuts for heaven's sake! We don't need them; we buy them for joy, for fun,  to celebrate, to be happy and the guy selling them has a chip on his shoulder the size of Mount Rushmore. Bummer. They are much more cheerful at Publix which is just one of several excellent bakeries around town. 

I stopped by my buddy Jiri's motorcycle shop during the week to have a chat and to smell the scent of powered two wheelers, so absent from my life at the moment, and the conversation turned to the donut fiasco. Jiri's perspective was a good one. He said you never know what the guy has been going through. He could have had a row with his wife, or just be beaten down by the strain of running a small business. Give him a second chance he said. Besides the donuts are good. Jiri has had his share of trials and tribulations in the shop which he used to share with a  partner who went off the rails. His daughter lives in Michigan so he has to go up and visit her there if he wants to see her at all and he is a devoted father. But Jiri enjoys his life and nothing much gets him down. Anything is better than growing up under communism in Czechoslovakia is his bottom line. Besides he gets to go skiing in winter in Michigan and he loves skiing,  so there's no accounting for taste!

That weekend I also had some friends visiting from out of town and we went to Alonzo's on the waterfront for seafood. It's my favorite place for fish and it seemed to work for them.(I didn't bring up my donut pondering as they where on vacation). Steve had crab cakes and Cheryl had oysters and I had fish tacos on a  lovely breezy fresh Monday afternoon. We talked travel and scooters and our server was a really nice woman who said she'd been working at Alonzo's for seven years which surprised me as I didn't remember her from previous visits. She was really good at her job but more than that she was warm and friendly and chatted with us as much as we wanted without being intrusive, a perfect balance and very professional. What made it interesting to me was  how much joy this middle aged woman took in her life. A life that involves cycling across town to work to avoid traffic and parking issues, to a job she loves in a town she enjoys. If it was an act she should go on stage because she made the meal effortlessly memorable and cheerful. What a contrast with donut sad sack. 

It was nice for me to get the affirmation but it also helped me gain perspective on something that was bugging me. It really is okay living and working in the Lower Keys for all the difficulties and short comings and compromises we all live with daily. I was glad to show these visitors my town. 

That left me wondering why I was so affected by that brief unpleasant encounter. The answer I think lies in the notion that simply by choosing to live in this high cost, low service community you have some kind of right to lose your manners and I just don't think that's necessary. We all have bad days, God knows, but do you have the right to impose your aggravation on your customers?

Then again: do I have the right to an expectation of cheerfulness? Were I in France. to throw out a negative stereotype, I might not be surprised to get surly service not because servers are surly but because in France being a waiter is a revered profession as odd as that sounds and professionalism seems to require a reserved attitude. Which to the American mind comes across as surly and we expect our less trained service workers to remember at all times the customer needs to be coddled with a smile. In our country we are trained to expect cheerful service, even in the 911 center where I work and sometimes we come up short; I know that.  In a doughnut shop you'd think if life is getting you down someone else could staff the counter for a shift. You don't sell joy with a  frown and being goofy while on vacation is to be expected. If dealing with gormless tourists bothers you don't get into the service industry. 

Maybe I have over-thunked this but I feel a certain resentment that just by virtue of living in Key West, a town two and a half million people choose to visit each year on their precious vacations, you have a right to feel put upon. I live in Key West so that justifies me being miserable. What  a ghastly  philosophy. At the same time I know Key West isn't the happiest place on Earth but it's not bad, surely.  Is it so awful you can run a business saying I'm miserable because I live in Key West  and your purchases aren't valuable enough to motivate me to fake a smile for two minutes to some smarmy excessively happy customer who thinks he's also buying some fake good cheer with his calorie laden artery clogging fried  dough.

How sad is it this millennial business owner thinks living here is irredeemably awful. I had no idea and the knowledge shocks me because I thought this was a pretty decent place to live and I feel lucky to be able to make ends meet living here. I wonder why he doesn't leave? The gray skies of Seattle, the snow in Ann Arbor or the Maine coastal fog in Portland could all be alleviated by some powerfully tasty doughnuts. I'd hate living in those very popular places just because I'm allergic to the cold,  but I'm the happy imbecile who found a home in the Keys. Lucky me and I'm still alive to enjoy it. You do the same wherever you are. Enjoy life and on the days when that seems impossible keep it together and wait for tomorrow. 

Watching Them Go By

I took this picture yesterday afternoon on Simonton Street in front of the Federal Building and in looking at it I realized it rather nicely illustrated what I might grandly title the three stages of transport in Key West. Looking beyond my original subject, the cyclist, I saw the golf cart crossing the path of the large SUV which put me in mind of the impractical nature of regular sized vehicles that fill narrow streets in the Southernmost City. That consideration followed by the annoying nature of the more practical but slower golf carts (!) and the sensible bicycle sidelined by the other larger vehicles on the street.  

I discovered recently that now I'm over  60 I ride for  fifty cents on city buses. Too bad I don't live in the city...but I do get dollar rides on the Lower Keys shuttle as well. I quite enjoy the aging process.

 Of course my preferred ride has two wheels and an engine and Key West offers tons of free parking.

 Of course not everyone grasps the concept like this motorcycle occupying at least three spaces:

The debate continues furiously over the growing use of electric bicycles in Key West. The city has a terrible fatality rate for bicycles probably because lots of people ride in this jammed town. Check them out, ably dodging traffic on congested Duval Street:

You are supposed to give a cyclist three feet when passing in a car which is next to impossible when there is oncoming traffic:

I figured the scooter rider below will get mown down, him and his cellphone when the light behind him changes and the riders launch off their marks!

Best of all is walking, my preferred means of locomotion, even now with my rolling gait and  limited stamina:

And by the way as the rest of the country shakes off winter, slowly, summer is inching in down here with warmer air and longer lighter evenings. I think its safe to say winter is gone and I am packing up my fleece for the season.