Key West Vacation—Day 3

We were up at about 9:30 this morning, and we had breakfast in the usual place—this time each having a bagel (his plain, my cinnamon and raisin), and once again splitting a fruit platter.


We went for a walk to a coffee shop up on Eaton off Duval that was supposed to offer free wireless access, but where it turned out to not be the case. You could connect at $.10 a minute, with a minimum of a $1.00. I would actually have paid that (and I’m not one to pay for Internet access), but it was way too hot in the place, so we opted to walk down the street instead to a Starbucks.

So the unbelievable drama began. We really didn’t expect to get connected here, as 1) no one else had laptops in the place, 2) there wasn’t a T-Moble sign (which is usually the service they offer, and it’s not free), and 3) it was a small place, with only one accessible electrical outlet in sight.

We did, however, get connected to some service that let you login for 24 hours free. I logged into IBM and enabled my Out-of-the-Office e-mail notification, which I’d forgotten to do before I left.

Joe’s laptop battery got real low, real quick, and we eyed a table, which was by the window, and that we thought was in reach of the outlet by way of the long extension cord I had with me. There was an older gentleman sitting at it by himself, or so we thought. I approached him and pointing at the table we had, said, “Would you mind swapping tables with us so we can reach the outlet from this one?”

Just as he was standing to move, his wife came up to the table with their coffees, and when he told her they were moving to the other table, she said, “But why?” And he snapped, “Because I said so!”

Oh, she was totally put out. Evidently she wanted to sit by the window. Drama. And then, once we took the seat, it was obvious that my extension cord was not going to reach the outlet anyway.

There was a table right by the outlet, but another older couple was sitting at that table. In the meantime, a lady had come in and she was holding her laptop with her plug hanging along side of it, obviously waiting to pounce on that table as soon as they left.

She asked them if they were leaving soon, and they said yes, but then just sat there and sat there. She noticed our dilemma, and said, “As soon as I get that table—if they ever leave—you’re welcome to share it with me to reach the outlet.”

In the meantime, Joe’s battery is slipping… 20%, 18%, 16%… they’re not leaving, the old lady whose window seat we’ve confiscated for no good reason now is giving us the evil eye… and we thought, “Oh boy, this is way too much drama over some Internet access.” [Not to mention that we have totally free Internet access, with a plethora of electrical outlets, back at the place at which we’re staying.]

We packed up and headed out, and on the way, Joe stopped by the crabby lady’s table, who had since gotten on her cell phone, to tell her that she could have her table back. She barely acknowledged him, and what acknowledgment it was screamed, “Whatever, you’ve already ruined my day.”

Joe felt a little bad about it. Personally, I felt no guilt whatsoever. It’s clear to me that it was her asshole husband who ruined her day, not us.


We walked back to our place, and I spent the afternoon on the Internet, catching up with mail, checking the news, the stock market, other blogs, and working on my own blog entries.

I did this all poolside, where within minutes of ordering my lunch, Joe came down from lying out on the deck, and joined me. Good timing.

I tried their “Tropical Chicken Salad Sandwich,” which was delicious. Its description: Chunks of roasted chicken breast tossed in a tropical mixture of creamy mayonnaise with macadamias and almonds, pineapple and coconut, sweetened with a touch of honey, and served on a toasted, sweet hoagie bun with lettuce and tomato.


Joe spent the afternoon in the sun, and I spent it in the shade. I can totally understand why I’m not any darker; he’s a little perplexed about his situation.


We had dinner at Happy Hour again tonight. I really like how they do their “free” Happy Hour here. They keep track of what you drink on a tab even though it’s free, and then they give you a “bill,” with it totaled, but the last line is a repeat of the total with a minus sign after it, making your grand total zero. That way you can give them an appropriate tip.

For dinner tonight, from the “Starters” section of their menu, I had their Crab Cake, which I thought was just delicious. It was too “fishy” for Joe, so we didn’t split it. I also had a small Caesar Salad with it. Joe had chicken tenders and an order of calamari, which was big enough to share, so I helped him with it. 🙂


I’d said earlier in the day that I didn’t really care to go out tonight, but we ended up walking down to Duval to check out a bar other than the Bourbon St. “complex” (Bourbon Street Pub and 801 Bourbon Bar).

We settled on Aqua Nightclub, which had a “dueling bartender karaoke” type thing going on when we first arrived. There were two bars in there, and each of the bartenders were in drag, and took turns singing a karaoke song, while bartending. However, I’d say that about 90% of the people in the place were straight.

After the dueling drag queens, both of whom were quite talented by the way, karaoke started, which, as karaoke will, had some hits and misses… and at least one missy.


We left there after a while and walked down a block to see if anything was going on at 801 Bourbon Bar, and nothing was. The bartender tonight was, surprisingly, the guy who had taken the 50-dollar origamied bill out of his wallet the other night. He took out that other one that I’d thought was an arrow, but it was really a tee shirt.

It was folded very “tightly,” just like the one in this picture. I particularly love the little collar on it. Very impressive.

I asked him if he’d folded it himself and he replied, “Oh, hell no. I don’t have the patience to fold a real shirt.”


We stayed there for just one drink, and then started a slow meandering back to our place. We, once again, stopped at The Upper Crust, where this time we got a Pepperoni Calzone to take back to the room, which we had to wait about 15 minutes for.

During the time, we walked across the street to check out Cowboy Bill’s, because it was right there, and that’s where the line-dancing and two-stepping is happening tomorrow.

They had a mechanical bull in the courtyard area of that place, and in the short time we were there we watched a woman go through all the preparation to get on it, only to fall off in less than 30 seconds.

I asked one of the bouncers there where the dancing will be tomorrow night, and he pointed and said, “Over there. On the dance floor,” which hadn’t he actually labeled it, I wouldn’t have discerned as a dance floor.

I certainly hope the clientèle in the place will be very different than what was in there tonight. When Mitch told us about the place when we first arrived, he did say it would be mostly gay people Tuesday night.

Again, not that there’s anything wrong with straight people. Some of my best friends are straight. And, without straight people, there’d be no gay people. Okay, enough of the clichés, and that last one is getting less and less true anyway, what with technology progressing the way it is and all.

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