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Took me two days to get the internet working in my room reliably, so we've got a lot of ground to cover...
Before we delve in too deep, lets take a moment to meet our intrepid cast:
From R-L: Alex and Megan, Scott and Sandi,
Katie, Me, and Kelly
Ok, so the bottom row really got the short end here. I have a ton of pictures of random signs, roosters, and the ocean, but those are the best pictures of Katie and Kelly I have. The picture of me was taken moments ago when I realized that, for obvious reasons, I have no pictures of myself. I'll do my best to improve this deplorable situation in the days to come.
Anyway...
The flights down to the island were plagued by rain and crying, as I mentioned earlier. The man that was sitting in front of us on the plane had the tiniest ears that I've seen. This was especially accented because he had gigantic sausage fingers that were trying to manipulate the complex Delta headset in order to affix it to the limited ear-real-estate he had to work with. It will haunt me to my end days that I didn't man up and take a picture of tiny-ears.
We seem to have brought the rain with us, it's constantly drizzling and frequently raining in earnest. The parking lot outside our room has been a perpetual lake ever since.
Thus beach plans for the first morning were shattered. And so, we went downtown. Our first tourist-trap was The Pirate Soul Museum. This was the once private collection of pirate memorabilia of inspiritional-speakin' Pat Croce, now in museum form! It was small, expensive ($12.95 per!), but quaint and kitschy. And I'm a sucker for the kitsch. The relics were billed as authentic, but looked extremely fake. There was a Jolly Roger displayed in the end room, supposedly one of only two recovered Jolly Rogers from that era. A very convincing Jack Sparrow impersonator related all of this to us, and then mugged for pics. Expensive, touristy souvenir pics. Megan bought one. Go figure.
So, we hit a few stores, and then Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville.
Best thing about Margaritaville:
Worst thing about Margaritaville: Jimmy Buffett background music. Yeesh.
As night fell, we were off to Mallory Square to celebrate the sunset and watch some pretty impressive street performers.
And then, karaoke. Which was...karaoke. I didn't get to sing, which is fine because I picked a really lame song. Kelly rocked out the Evanescence and Aretha Franklin. Kelly sings good.
OH, I saved the best for last: This box was on the counter in a deli, next to some cookies, the register, and a tip jar. Words fail me.
Post-coital love from Key West,
Brian
Posted at: 22:00
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