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Published: April 21st 2010
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Marathon City Marina
Parking lot for boats None of us get up before 9:00. We’re even groggier than the morning before, but the tension has been let out. After a leak, two run-agrounds, and moving the boat at 3:00 AM, nothing can faze us now. The owner arranged for a mechanic already and he and his bright-faced wife show up to poke, prod, and tinker. Our one helpful dinghy friend from the night before, Jameson, shows up again to see how we are and self-sacrificingly takes a load of ladies to the shore with changes of clothes, makeup and shower essentials crammed into tote bags. The others lower our own faithful dinghy and row to the dock.
We must be the talk of the City Marina. I’m sure everyone around here knows that we ran aground last night; it’s a small town here really. It just so happens that it’s floating. In the daylight we can see the rows of sailing boats, a few smaller than ours, some double-deckers, one or two catamarans (an awesome name for a boat with two hulls), white and bright against the solid blue water and ring of green mangroves. Everyone here looks weathered, squint-lines and age-lines accented by burned, browned and
Obligatory Key West sunset shot
I took this only because the egret was in the shot. freckled skin. And here we are, all winter-skinned white folks who run aground in the middle of the marina (no one else knows about the first time!) and then ungainly row to shore in our unmotorized dinghy. (A local, a young college-age man from the Midwest who owns his own boat and lives there with his girlfriend, later tells us he thought we were Brits because we were so pale.)
Everyone is very nice and even though we “parked” in the middle of the night, the manager of the Marina doesn’t even charge us for that night. The Marina comes equipped with multiple shower/bathrooms and a community area and plenty of space for dinghy docking. We take turns showering and planning for the next 24 hours. Our goal was Key West for this day and we’re determined to go. But not in the boat. There’s no way we would make it now before sunset, but really, we don’t want to push our luck with the Trade Wind. We snag a deal on a hotel in Key West, look at the bus schedule, and go back and forth from the boat to the community center to get our overnight gear.
Once the mechanic has finished and James looks over what they’ve done and pronounces it a good job, we walk to the bus station.
Our hotel has brightly painted rooms and a large curving pool flanked by spouting dolphins. Unfortunately it’s in the middle of the eastern portion of Key West which looks like every other place in the US with its chains and non-distinct buildings. We swiftly change into our night-clothing, dresses, jewelry, button-up shirts, and take a taxi to the “real” Key West. The houses take on character, more individualistic shops pop up, the historical bits of Key West mix in with the tropical-tourist culture.
Sundowners at Mallory Square is first on the night's agenda. When I heard that Key West always has a Sundowner event, I immediately thought of Kenya where marking the sunset is an excuse for far-flung friends living in the country to get together, relax, and chat as the night begins. I was imaging chairs lined up, an easy place to get drinks and a relaxing, peaceful way to start the evening. Well, that’s not quite the Key West Sundowner. It’s a mini-street festival with vendors, acrobatic, fire-tossing street performers, and TONS
of tourists taking the same damn photo of an unremarkable sunset. Ah well. We make it a photo opp for our group and move on to dinner.
Dinner with live music and seafood on the top terrace followed by a drag show. Turns out Key West is quite the hub for the gay and lesbian community and James tells us that there is drag show every night of the year somewhere in town. As we walk to it on Duval St., the social/must-see hub of west Key West, I keep my ears tuned for salsa music. I make it perfectly clear to the crew that if I hear good salsa music, I will veer to it. No siren dance music reaches me and we instead reach the drag club, just in the nick of time for the show.
Only three queens perform that night, switching in and out of personas and costumes. They walk down the stage, posing, lip-syncing, and then into the audience to purse for pictures, collect tips, tease the audience members, etc. Cher and Dolly Parton, both played by the same performer, are my favorite get-ups. The ladies have splendid costumes and wigs but there’s
no mistaking them for women. They tower over me and Angee (granted, some of that may be due to the platform heels) as we stand on the side-lines with tips for Dolly. Dolly obligingly walks over and then, shaking her head, gives me a consoling pat on my petitely-sized bosom and then gives Angee’s larger bust more “appreciation.” The whole audience roars its enjoyment as do we. This is my first drag show and I am loving it. Everyone is ready to laugh, to be teased, to sing along to the well-known songs.
We hit the streets again after that, floating with the other Wednesday-night tourists past the lit-up store-fronts of skanky dresses and over-priced beach wear, a CVS in an old movie theater, bars of all themes. James steers us to a side-street where the Green Parrot, the most renowned bar in Key West, reigns. It is a bar’s bar, pool tables, walls plastered with photos and old posters, free popcorn from the machine, and a chill clientele. Eventually though our adrenalin runs low and our enthusiasm flags. I have heard no salsa music. So we hail more taxis and head back to our rented rooms.
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John
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Key West
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