Fresh Ballyhoo

Apparently I am not the first person to have observed this, but originality be damned, I'm going to say it anyway - the Florida Keys are WEIRD. Like, seriously weird.

To start with, everything around here is way too effortfully "kooky" and "zany." And although I can't prove it, I would be willing to bet that people here actually like using words like "kooky" and zany". After all, nothing here just has a normal name. The local bakery is Bob's Bunz (complete with extra jokes about "grabbing some bunz on your way out"), the bait is called "fresh ballyhoo," (yeah, I know that technically that's a real thing... but it shouldn't be), and the people refer to themselves as "conchs" (pronounced "konk," as in, "I trail off at the end of my sentences because I've been 'konked' on the head one too many times by the boom on my sailboat.") Apparently you're never fully dressed down here unless you've got your parrot tattoo, your excessive tan, your vacant stare, and your hot pink flip-flops on.

And, what's with all of the overweight, frequently shirtless 50-year-old men cruising around town with portable radios??!?!

Exhibit A, taken at John Pennekamp State Park in Key Largo. What the picture can't show you is the Mariachi music blasting from his portable tape deck

One particular repeat offender is the gentleman of leisure who cruises over to the public docks on his bicycle in the middle of the day, sets up his portable tape player at a picnic table, and spends about 15 minutes jamming to Pat Benetar before packing up and riding off to who-knows-where. My suspicion is that he probably rides over to the next public park down the street, where he switches over to listening to Sade, and just spends every day riding his circuit of 80s music glory until the sun goes down.

And, speaking of the goings-on at the local public dinghy dock, I have been menaced repeatedly at that very dock by a sinister flock of flamingo-looking birds that duck around the lawn at the dock-side park looking all furtive and creepy, like they're probably muttering voodoo curses under their breath. They really are shaped like mini-flamingos, standing about a foot high, and they creep up on you with weird giant steps that make them look like they move in slow-motion, and stare at you sideways while they scoot around jabbing ominously at things in the grass with their terrifying 6 inch beaks.













As a wise man once said, "I hate all birds."

Perpetrators of both varieties. As you can see,
enemies are all around. Constant vigilance is required.
(What this picture can't show you is the 80s slow jams
blasting from the portly gentleman's portable radio.)

And that's only the half of it. There's also the people who appear to be talking to the water in really jolly voices while they're fishing, and the gnarly looking old man with his bicycle basket full of plastic sacks of ice, trying to sell ice to random people while it melts out of his bike-basket, leaving a trail of potential earnings behind him as he rides along. It's like everyone here is just a few limes short of a whole pie (the actual pies around here, though, are delicious. Definitely a highlight!).

At this point, the big question for me is, if everyone else here appears to be a total fringe-dwelling lunatic, and I'm here with them, is it possible that I'm actually ONE OF THEM??!?!? I mean, I am looking pretty tan these days, and I do have several articles of clothing that could be classified as "beachwear"...Does this look like a person who belongs in Florida? You be the judge.

I'm going to go practice doing Normal Stuff for a while.