I was presented with a non-redeemable airplane ticket to Key West, Florida, a dream come true for a person who has spent thirty-five winters in the mountains of Western Maryland. US Air Flight 124 was to depart from Pittsburgh International Airport at 7:00 the following morning, and there was a full-blown blizzard raging outside my door. My mind’s eye was focused on Key West, so it was easy to disregard the discouraging weather reports and set out on a nocturnal, zero-visibility trek across the mountains to Pittsburgh. I would be there to board Flight 124 bound for Florida regardless of the obstacles. One layover in Miami to change to a smaller two-engine plane, and I, unencumbered by the freezing cold, would be landing on the isle of Key West by high noon.
Key West is located in the Strait of Florida, between the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean, approximately forty miles north of the Tropic of Cancer. I was extremely anxious to experience subtropical weather in the month of February; during the flight, I fantasized about how Mother Nature would take me into her philanthropic arms and gently hold me until my anxiety dissolved into the purifying salt water. Thoughts of the warm, penetrating sunshine engulfed me; I was strolling down the warm, beach while gazing into beautiful pale-blue water. I could feel the sun’s rays covering my face, the gentle breeze blowing through my hair, and the tangy salt water nipping at my lips.
The pilot’s voice brought me back to reality as the small aircraft was preparing to land; He said, “it’s a balmy seventy-five degrees on the ground; have a pleasant day.” The plane touched down, but my head was still in the clouds--I was mesmerized. I felt as if I had passed through a time warp; I had descended back to an earlier decade: Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall were arriving to say their last goodbyes as they had done n Casablanca; Ernest Hemingway was posting a parcel containing his latest writings; Teddy Roosevelt and Joe Kennedy, Sr. were at the end of the runway (Roosevelt frequented Key West to obtain illegal rum for medicinal purposes, of course), or maybe these distinguished gentlemen were waiting to hop a liner for a cruise outside the United States boundary for a little gambling fun. Many famous and infamous people have flocked to Key West for a variety of reasons; it is a sub-tropical plethora of dreams and decadence.
The isle itself measures twelve miles by eight miles; therefore, the easiest mode of transportation is a bicycle. Touring Key West by bike is as natural as walking through a shopping mall. The terrain is flat and the temperatures are mild so one never gets overheated or winded. The streets are as congested as the streets in Manhattan, but no one indulges in profanity. Peddling down the northern side of Key West is like cruising through any other modern-day tourist trap; there is no way to avoid it, because it is the only way to get to the Old Town, Duval Street and Mallory Square, where life is one big party. Starting early afternoon Horn Blowers and the Hog’s Head pubs emit sounds of live music; tourist and residents alike partake of the refreshing beverages and mellow music.
The residents of Key West are benign and socially elastic; some live in opulent mansions while others are content living on cozy houseboats. They are a diverse group of people, yet they live in harmony. Those not wealthy make their as best they can: street vendors, waitresses, taxi drivers, snorkel instructors, pub musicians; all work happily. They seem to have discovered peace of mind, body and soul.
At sunset the only place to be is at the southwest end of Old Town by the shipping ports in Mallory Square. While awaiting the sunset all spectators are entertained by a vast variety of talented individuals: jugglers, sword and fire swallowers, magicians, singers, dancers, and even Uncle Sam. Then, the impeccable sunset: a huge, breathtaking red-orange sphere slowly sinks into the horizon as if it were a sinking ship; the surrounding alpenglow is truly a sailor’s delight. The spectacular spectrum of color is better than fireworks on the 4th of July.
Key West has an aesthetic quality that is overwhelming for a small-town girl; its history creates a romantic aura that permeates one’s soul. Key West is a paradox in my mind, a great escape that I long for every winter since visiting there; I will return another winter.
