Duval Street, hotbed of iniquity and vice, home of unbridled drinking and wild street parties, fights, vomit and rivers of spilled beer and islands of abandoned plastic Dixie cups. If there is a heaven and a hell I expect my hell will be Duval Street at 2am for the rest of eternity. However at 9 am filled with Blue Heaven's pancakes and buzzing from several cups of strong coffee Duval Street looks almost human to me.
I went to Blue Heaven but many people looked happy enough breakfasting at the scene of last night's debauchery while these two fine specimens of vacationing womanhood were enjoying their private terrace at La Concha, ignoring the toiling masses in the street below their hotel:
The cab driver saving gas by keeping his windows open while he waits for a fare:
The street sweeper cleaning up the debris in the gutters:
Then there is the city employee hosing down the sidewalks to prepare the street for fussy visitors who prefer not to wade through trash on their way to get toasted:
Some are already busy at the bar in Sloppy Joe's at 9:19am (I checked my watch):
And I am forced to wonder how many tourists in Key West have ever seen The Bull looking like this:
Nothing quite so forlorn as a bar all closed up. I caught this guy, an advertisement for a real living wage if ever I saw one, toiling up Rose Lane: 
All those beer bottles that get thrown away empty, not recycled, arrive on Duval by human power, even in the early 21st century. And there is the vendor at Duval and Eaton who will spend the day getting toasted on his own (by the sun) selling Key West made trinkets. He starts his long day hauling his cart into position by hand:
While across the street at St Paul's relief is at hand if only one has the patience:
And don't forget the lunch time organ recitals which are delightful and free and start at 12:10pm and last about half an hour, in the cool recesses of the church.
Even at breakfast time Duval Street has its share of tourists, if you want the main drag to yourself its best to get here well after 4 am, which is when the last bars close though the crowds will take a little time to disperse. Or show up sometime before 8 am when the street is almost empty except for the early workers buying coffee and cycling to their places of employment along the street. By 9:30 Duval is waking up:I went to Blue Heaven but many people looked happy enough breakfasting at the scene of last night's debauchery while these two fine specimens of vacationing womanhood were enjoying their private terrace at La Concha, ignoring the toiling masses in the street below their hotel:The cab driver saving gas by keeping his windows open while he waits for a fare:The street sweeper cleaning up the debris in the gutters:Then there is the city employee hosing down the sidewalks to prepare the street for fussy visitors who prefer not to wade through trash on their way to get toasted:Some are already busy at the bar in Sloppy Joe's at 9:19am (I checked my watch): And I am forced to wonder how many tourists in Key West have ever seen The Bull looking like this:Nothing quite so forlorn as a bar all closed up. I caught this guy, an advertisement for a real living wage if ever I saw one, toiling up Rose Lane: All those beer bottles that get thrown away empty, not recycled, arrive on Duval by human power, even in the early 21st century. And there is the vendor at Duval and Eaton who will spend the day getting toasted on his own (by the sun) selling Key West made trinkets. He starts his long day hauling his cart into position by hand:While across the street at St Paul's relief is at hand if only one has the patience:And don't forget the lunch time organ recitals which are delightful and free and start at 12:10pm and last about half an hour, in the cool recesses of the church.
The operator at the Hyatt booth was kind enough to help out some faceless visitors seeking directions:
Some other early birds on Caroline Street were getting last minute instructions on bicycle riding, as they wheeled off their rentals:
Bicycles are an excellent low stress way to get around town, especially if you're on vacation and it doesn't matter if you show up sweaty and hot. Mopeds are a close second and for those who rent cars I found these next two pictures, shot on Charles Street, to illustrate an obvious parking point:
Bear in mind these are likely locals vehicles and it usually doesn't pay to park like a local in Key West as parking enforcement and property owners usually know and recognize vehicles that belong in outlandish spots. Technically its not legal to lock a bike to city sign or street lamp but it would be an unlucky tourist that got her bike removed by Public Works during a brief stop. Riding the wrong way down a one way, even on a bicycle can get you a ticket, especially if you have a shitty attitude. As far as parking goes you can't beat a bicycle. And, by the way, if you have a few extra bar stools you don't need this is where you can dump them apparently:
Back on Duval I walked past these family types and I could have sworn I heard one of them remark on the similarity of a bong in the window to one they had at home. I must have imagined it:
I've remarked previously on the rather poor taste of many of the t-shirts displayed on Duval Street and some people think bongs, typically used to smoke marijuana shouldn't be on sale either. But there they are all lined up for inspection. Rather more prosaically there is a small grocery store on Duval Street and goes by the name of Shorty's, and I've never even stopped off to buy water here, but for some reason, probably because the air conditioning beckoned, I stepped in.
It was quite the revelation actually, like a real grocery store with all sorts of useful items for the forgetful tourist. I ended up spending $13 on stuff that looked pretty good to me. I got the Turkish coffee as a taste test for my wife who has a trip planned there (Turkey, not Shorty's) with some girlfriends in September, and I'm quite partial to Patak's curries so I bought a couple of meals in a box I'd never seen before. I've since eaten one and they are quite decent too, hurricane food or for a quick dinner at work:
My final tour de tourist was to tag a group of cruise ship visitors who were getting a guided walk around downtown. I missed most of the speech on La Concha but I think he was going on about suicides from the top of the hotel.I've remarked previously on the rather poor taste of many of the t-shirts displayed on Duval Street and some people think bongs, typically used to smoke marijuana shouldn't be on sale either. But there they are all lined up for inspection. Rather more prosaically there is a small grocery store on Duval Street and goes by the name of Shorty's, and I've never even stopped off to buy water here, but for some reason, probably because the air conditioning beckoned, I stepped in.It was quite the revelation actually, like a real grocery store with all sorts of useful items for the forgetful tourist. I ended up spending $13 on stuff that looked pretty good to me. I got the Turkish coffee as a taste test for my wife who has a trip planned there (Turkey, not Shorty's) with some girlfriends in September, and I'm quite partial to Patak's curries so I bought a couple of meals in a box I'd never seen before. I've since eaten one and they are quite decent too, hurricane food or for a quick dinner at work:
Most tour guides tell the story that people who jump always leave behind a glass of chardonnay at the top of Key West's tallest building. Don't ask me I've never checked. And with that crowd shuffling off I found Duval starting to wake up with both eyes open and thus it was time for me to go home and enjoy the last hours of my "weekend" off.
Downtown Key West is busy enough but a few short blocks from Duval and Elizabeth Street under the afternoon sun looks empty enough to shoot a canon. Looking closer at the front of the Key Lime Store a couple of visitors are taking advantage not of the free Key Lime taffy (fools!) but the misting spray:
At the monument I found one visitor pretending he was in the Empty Quarter of Arabia.
The parking lots on Green Street were packed with ten dollar-a-day parked cars, some few in the shade, locals no doubt, but most in the white glare of the open pea rock, fully exposed to the summer sun. The demarcation line was quite dramatic:
The parking lot attendant was making no waves, sitting tight and waiting for sunset:
Locals abandon the tools of their trade in the heat of the midday sun, fork-lifts can roast and vinyl seats can burn as though under a magnifying lense when parked out under the suns rays:
But mad dogs, Englishmen and tourists will happily stroll the sunny side of the street:
Some sun-mad lunatics come to Key West to eat by the water and nothing will stop them from fulfilling the desire to eat fish outdoors and they scarf in the inadequate shade of an umbrella at Conch Republic Seafood:
To me the murky waters of Key West Bight even managed to look inviting, as they sat there all smooth and cool and wet:
But some people are just cool no matter what the ambient temperature and relative humidity:
Call it a paradox but the brick building housing Peppers of Key West looked cool and inviting: 
Inside they were offering their usual hot sauces and barbecue recipes and cute though it all was it was too warm for me:
I don't mind the heat, as long as I'm not working out in it. I talked to a cop the other day who was lamenting that on the day shift he has to get out of his car and walk around in his polyester uniform. He looked hot and uncomfortable just talking about it. Other people have to do physical work like moving stuff under the sun:
This guy left his Mercedes just like that and his trailer just like that for the entire forty minutes I was wandering around taking pictures. I think he planned to come back later to finish the job,m whatever it was. My little stroll worked up a sweat of my own:
I was all damp and ready for cold air when I got back in the car, and only feeling slightly traitorous in that I had had to leave the Bonneville at home yesterday. I love summer.
Thus it is I work for the Southernmost Police Department, and South (south...get it?) Street boasts the southernmost everything, from a modest Deli, a Bikini shop, several hotels and on and on and on. All of which speaks of lack of imagination to me but they keep on coming our way to be southernmost and closer to Havana than Miami. The embargo notwithstanding; perhaps making Cuba inaccessible makes it all the more alluring, we hope that next year all will be revealed, ninety miles south of the Southernmost City.
Having only one point that is southernmost (perforce!) creates all sorts of weird anomalies. Across the street from the Southernmost-Point-Guest-House lies another house that claims to be southernmost, the red roofed structure visible above and owned by a long time Key West family that defies geography in claiming southernmostness. 
Indeed a few years ago the city commission in response to protests from the less commercially inclined neighbors was ready to move the point from its location elsewhere. Geography is flexible in the Conch Republic. And there are people who choose to just live in this neighborhood without pretensions to paint, or tourism or anything much:
The actual southernmost point is...further south behind a fence:
And is only visible from South Beach's newly refurbished pier. The satellite dishes and antennae should be a clue. This is a top secret (more or less) listening station to listen to the Communists in Cuba. It all seems a bit over the top to me; Radio Havana comes through loud and clear on my car radio, 950AM, nevertheless there is a real southernmost point, owned by the Navy:
I suspect that the beach at Fort Zachary Taylor is further south than south beach but I am not going to take my GPS to test all the theories out. I prefer confusion.
Or tangling your lure around your out-of-school son: 
Or Selling nondescript stuff, jewelry perhaps while staring at women in bikinis on the beach: 
People keep insisting life in Key West is tough. Which may be true but some people try to keep a sense of humor:
Instead I mind my own business. Like this dude: You know he's not a tourist, long pants penny loafers and a smug air of this-is-my-daily-transportation look about him as he swings smoothly past the point:
Locals have their suave balconies to look down upon the masses:
And yet there are still buildings for sale just a block from the point.
Even if one could afford it one would have to have the self delusion of a dictator to find this pile the least bit attractive surely? And still I can hear the realtor announcing, convincingly, "...just ninety miles from La Havana."