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Thursday, October 08, 2009

Back to Key West 

I think I've finally worked out why the words don't flow here as freely as they did back in the "golden oldie" days of my past. It used to be near daily posts of my crazy life of drinking and being a huge chucklehead. Those were the days when I worked a real job and the nights at the bar born from frustration. Don't take that to mean my days/nights of being the dumbest fuck on the block are behind me, I just don't find myself in the position of proactive drinking. I no longer indulge to deal with the next day's insanity. Now it's just for fun (and sometimes new work requirements).

I have no idea where this particular piece of banality is heading but it very well may end up a spewage of Iggy-proportions. Uber-post as opposed to tiny size.

Two years ago I hit a milestone birthday dragging a shit-ton of my friends south to Key West to celebrate. There was much drinking, gambling, lap dancing and lap dancing. Bar tours up and down Duval Street and more then enough embarrassing pictures to last a lifetime. That is one trip that can never be duplicated. Last year my birthday rolled around and I throw what might be the very last "Bash at the Boathouse" where even more friends showed up. Another party that will most likely ruin any future attempts I make and running that mess.

This year's birthday came around and things were much more mellow. After spending most of the summer in Vegas with a mass of degenerates I was ready to just chill the fuck out. I knew last winter I would be kicking back in Key West once again but nothing major, no big plans or anything that would be appended with -fest. I told a few close friends to trek down if they were so inclined but no massive blowout of liver and soul. In the end it was a pleasure to tool around my favorite little drinking town as a fifth wheel to Mr. and Mrs. Gracie/Pablo plus the fine SpaceFolk.

It was only a few short days but I'm going to hit on details from every day if possible. That much booze does not bode well.

My new motto, fuck spell and grammar check!

~

Key West - Another Day 1
September 2009

Two long god damn weeks spent at the Borgata, 13 days too long and I was ready to roll south. I was so going so crazy that I completely whiffed on making even the most basic plans for Key West even though I was scheduled to leave the morning after the Borgata champ was crowned. Luckily for me Gracie stepped up and made some boarding arrangements leaving me to just somehow fly my ass down there at the last minute. Obviously I was successful.

The Borgata champ was crowned that Thursday evening followed by the requisite drinking with the staff at the B-Bar. I still had my room for that evening but my flight was booked for Friday morning. That meant I needed to get from AC to my parents homestead outside of Philly, swap out my "cold weather gear" for nothing but shorts, arrange a cab picked up at sunrise to the boonies, and maybe find 60 minutes in there to sleep off the dozen shots from the B-Bar courtesy of Stefanelli. Luckily I have some skills when it comes to last minute travel plans and found myself chain-smoking outside PHL airport with plenty of time to spare.

2 hours of flying plus another 4 hours of driving from Fort Lauderdale to Key West riding shotgun with the Spaceman. That's a fine way to begin a vacation. Between the two of us we can find enough to bull shit about to make that drive a few times. Soon we crossed the 1000th bridge and were finally "wheels down" on Key West. Like three good degenerates we checked into our rooms at the guest house and made our way to the bar awaiting the arrival of Gracie and Sweet Sweet Pablo.

That gave us plenty of time to weave more tales and to get them introduced to a few of my friends in Happy Town. Haylee the Bartender was serving the drinks and two good old boys from Southland were secondary stage. "Freebird for $25" was the sign propped on the drum kit, I might have paid it if the BoyGenius were in town. The SpaceFolk were told past tales and they never blinked.

The first night of drinking was ready to kick off when Gracie and Pablo tracked us down and we were joined by Key West friend Nikki. She would be more than happy to play the part of bar tour manager. And off we went.


Happy SpaceFolk with Gracie, Pablo, Nikki and a (soon to be) drunken lunatic


First stop was (in)famous The Bull, The Whistle and The Garden of Eden. Three seperate bars on the three different floors. Psuedo karaoke on floor number one (meh), pool tables and Duval St balcony on the second floor (very nice), clothing optional bar on the roof (natch). We weren't exactly there at the optimum time, the top shelf stripper use the bar for sunning themselves during the day. At night you sometimes get what we saw. Several pudgy men running around in various states of undress. I tried to make it up to the crew by getting several young women to flash their goodies but it was time to roll. Then the first bit of craziness of the night.

I was seperated from the herd with Nikki to settle up the bartab where there was a big commotion behind us. We turned in time to witness a couple burly bouncers carrying a semi-nekkid reveler from the roof top bar. His lack of proper clothing did nothing to slow the man down from fighting the behemoths. It's a good four long flights of stairs to make the street so this guy had a lot to lose in the deal. A third bouncer came over for the assist and they dragged that dirty old man away and he disappeared into the night. That left us all wondering the rest of the evening, what exactly do you need to do to get physically kicked out of a place that "open" to all forms of deviant behavior?

Before I know what's happening I find myself in the back of a club and handing a stack of 20's to Nikki, she was replacing them with bricks of singles. I suppose I was in a strip club of some sort. Just as quick as that, I was back on the street looking for another bar. I think we spent a total of 10 minutes in there with barely a glance at the female form. Things started sliding sideways in a hurry courtesy of my empty stomach and weak will.

I can't really tell you how many bars we hit up after that, or who was along the entire way. I know there are some pretty interesting pictures of "body shots" at Cowboy Bill's. I know somewhere along the line Nikki took this picture of me, couldn't begin to tell you which bar but I think Spaceman and Pablo were still alive and kicking. I know I eventually made my way back up to Cowboy Bill's Big Ranch and stayed well past closing. That last one I don't remember, but I was told a few days later that a new acquaintance saw me holding up the wall around 5am.

There are a lot of big empty spots in my memory from that first evening. But I do remember kicking off a great weekend with an epic bender that involved plenty of booze (Gracie doing multiple shots!), unexpected female nudity, a drunk nekkid man getting shit kicked to the curb, body shots, new friends, old friends and more fun to remember.

~

When I started writing this particular account of my year on the road, I thought for sure I could fit it entirely into one big post. I overshot that by a ton. One day, one post. Let's see if I can get through it this way. Forcing the words out of the twisted wreckage of my memory. Back tomorrow with Day 2 and Day 3.

Maybe.

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