~Sunday~ Breakfast of a bagel and fruit.
We walked down to the Quiznos on Duval for lunch, where a boy who was not the brightest crayon in the box, but arguably the prettiest one, made our sandwiches.
We stopped at a souvenir type shop right by Quiznos where Joe and I each bought a white, Key West t-shirt, and Joe bought some souvenirs for family and friends.
We stopped over at 801 Bourbon Bar, right across the street, and had two Bloody Mary’s each to prime us for Happy Hour, since it was around 4:30 and happy hour started at 5:30 “back at the ranch.” Karaoke started while were there, although during the time we were there, most of the songs were sung by the co-emcees, one a drag queen and the other just a regular guy, presumably while they waited for bar patrons to sign up.
Happy Hour was a ton of fun tonight. We sat next to these two guys named Jason and Tim—at least I think his name was Tim, and no matter, that’s who he’s going to be here. By the time it was all said and done, tables had been pushed together, shots had been had, a piece of Key Lime Pie with a candle in it had been delivered, and it all culminated at one point with the entire place singing Happy Birthday to Joe.
Since we had eaten so late, we skipped dinner, but knowing we’d be hungry later, at about 9:00, I walked down to Duval Street and bought a 20″ pizza from Pizza Joes. I wanted to get it from Upper Crust, due to the poor service at Pizza Joes early in the week, but it was closed.
Walking back with the huge pizza box in my hand, I watched for one of those rickshaw guys to see about getting a ride. When one pulled up behind me, I said, “Man, I have $5.00. Can that get me back to the Island House?” (In Raleigh, the rickshaws work completely on tips.)
He hemmed and hawed, and said, “I usually get $15 to go there,” and as he started to continue, I cut him off and said, “No worries. I totally understand. I just thought I’d ask. Carry on, man.”
He kept pedaling but very slowly, and then turning his back said, “I could do it for ten.”
“No, no that’s alright. Really. I really don’t mind walking. I just thought if you could do it for the $5 I have I’d take it. It’s no problem.”
He pedaled a little further, then turned around. It was obvious to both of us that he wasn’t going to get any other fare at this time. It was a Sunday night, about 9:30, there were very few people on the streets, and it was starting to drizzle.
“Okay, man. Hop on.”
At about halfway, I said, “Hey, how about I give you two pieces of this pizza in addition to the five dollar fare? Do you like pepperoni pizza?”
“Hey that would be great,” he said, and I was happy to end the negotiation with a win/win.
We ate the hell out of that pizza later.