Thanks to everybody who liked the last post! I hope you all enjoy the saga of my second day with the guys. One quick anecdote though – when I was in KW I was exposed to an entirely new culture of people who don’t live on land. I know plenty of people who’ve bought houseboats or sailboats and lived out of a marina, but Florida has a whole population that lives anchored out from the coast and takes dinghy boats into shore each day. I heard somebody say they were “living on the hook,” and the phrase really resonated with me. So that’s the title of this second post – “Life on the Hook.” Enjoy.

Part 1

Tuesday started around 11am after a few cups of coffee and some badass breakfast quesadillas a la Paul. Hank had a pretty comprehensive list of things to accomplish including things as simple as showering and as complex as finding a store named Cuban Joe’s that debatably didn’t actually exist (spoiler alert: we found it). But that’s another story. We took the dinghy out around noon and made our way to the dock. Unfortunately the dock was full so we had to will a spot to open up. I think we put on a pretty good show for the people eating brunch at Turtle Kraals. But we made it happen and we felt like champs. Victory #2 for the day (#1 was breakfast).

Our first destination was to Stock Island to pick up a part for the engine. This was one of those times where it’s not so much the destination, but the journey that was important. I say this because a really expensive cab ride resulted in the part not even being available for pickup, but the cab driver, Rick, was the freaking man. We started talking about making a living in Key West and asked how long he’d been here. Rick said 4.5 years ago he divorced his wife, sold his shit, quit his 6-figure job and moved to Key West to start driving a cab. Swag. And the best part was, he spent the 13 years prior to that living and working in Corpus Christi. Hank was obviously super stoked and we compared life notes for the entire 45 minutes we were in the cab with him.

After he brought us back to KW we went hunting for some more boat parts and struggled to find a store people kept telling us about called Cuban Joe’s. Well, it turns out it’s actually called West Marine or something and has a small sign on the door that says Cubanito’s. Translation issues I guess. Victory #3(?). Hank and I got done there and decided to check out a few bars for drinks. I needed sunscreen and the place we happened to walk into actually sold beer too, and had a bar we could drink it at. Such a helpful store! Victory #4. We had a cold Shiner and moved on to Dante’s, the apparent Spring Break College Bar. We drank some shitty Landshark before reverting back to what we know best – The Red Snapper – The King of Beers – THE Budweiser. We played some Bohemian Ring Toss and I learned I should probably start betting money on that game because I hustled the shit out of Hank. Victory #5. We ate some oysters and wings (Victories #6 and #7), talked life, and hit on the bartender (no victory). Overall a good man date.

Part 2

Hank and I headed back to the dingy around 5, but not before making a stop at the convenience store. I asked “Hank, should we get more beer for the boat?” Hank replied, “That’s never been a bad idea.” So that’s what we did, and we enjoyed some roadies on the dinghy as we putted back to Contigo.

Adam and Paul were both hanging watching Breaking Bad. Adam had finally opened his eyes after probably a 15-hour recovery slumber. Though I don’t think he’d actually physically moved his body yet. I actually don’t know if he did for the rest of the night other than to click on the next episode of Breaking Bad.

We lounged on the boat until probably 9pm then Hank, Paul, and I loaded into the dinghy to start the bar crawl on land, but not before Paul graciously grabbed three more red snappin roadies for the trip. When we hit land we started at Half Shell for a quick beer and oysters before they closed. I gotta say I really wish that cluster of restaurants that serves the cruise ships would stay open past 10pm. Then we’d almost never have to leave the square where we park the dinghy. But Halfshell closed basically after we finished our beers and we had to head out to Duval Street. The oysters weren’t quite enough for dinner so we had the challenge of finding a place that served both food and beer after 10pm. Enter Johnny Rocket’s.

I never imagined that’s where I’d do dinner in Key West but we got a bucket of buds (notice a theme here?) and some kick ass sandwiches. We were maybe halfway through when you’ll never guess who we saw trotting down the road past our booth. That’s right, Silent K and The One. They saw us right away and trotted onto the patio we were eating at. They brought their own plastic cup and we happily filled it up with beer for them as they broke into song. Silent K actually talked this time. And he sang. And it was actually pretty soulful.

The One just continued his diatribe of “I’m the one, man. I’m the fuckin one.” I just kept telling him I acknowledge his status and I agree he’s the one. Silent K played an original song about getting drunk in Key West (he claims it’s an original at least), but it was funny and catchy. Not to be outdone, The One tells us he’s gonna sing us something and to make a request. After shooting down every request he suggested Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd.

We let him have his moment then went into some serious life discussions. At one point Paul and Hank had both gotten up from the table the The One was really getting in my face about how important heart is and how big ours were. It was the most aggressive compliment I’ve ever received. He also talked about how big his neighbor’s heart was: “I sleep in a doorway about two blocks from here every night. And you know what my neighbor says when he sees me all balled up on the street outside his place in the morning? He says “Good Morning.” That’s heart, brother. And I’m the one.” Then he told me about how he ended up in Key West with a pretty kick-ass little anecdote: “I came here on vacation 20 years ago with my ex-wife. Three years later, she cheated on me. I started driving South and by the time I hit the first palm tree in Southern Georgia, I didn’t give a shit about that bitch. But I still miss my fuckin dog.” Sorry for the profanity but that was a powerful story at the time and I typed it exactly as he said it. Finally, we paid our tab and Silent K dragged the one away because he knew it was time to move on and busk for some money and beer elsewhere.

From there, the night never really took off. If there’s one thing we learned, Duval Street and the surrounding bars are a good place to be drunk, not necessarily get drunk. But that’s ok. We grabbed some roadies from a street bar, people watched, watched a guy pick up a hooker on a motorcycle, and eventually ambled back to the dinghy. When we got back to the dinghy, there were two guys sleeping on the dock hoping to catch rides back some place. One was our friend Scotty, whose boat was en route to Contigo so obviously he got a spot in the dink. The other guy was this really whiny wannabe hipster looking guy who just said he needed to get to Casa Blanca but had no idea where that is. It’s too bad we could’t help him, but he wasn’t doing himself any favors by ambiguously saying he needed to go some spanish white house…and looking and sounding like a little bitch. That being said I hope he found his way home, kind of. End Day 2!