A politically INCORRECT story about Southern Florida.Key West -or 'a funny thing happened to me and my friend on the way to the beach.'
I had just sort of 'enjoyed' a divorce ? An old friend Nick, a look-alike for the
guitarist john Williams was in between girls. Metaphorically speaking. We had
taken a last minute bargain holiday to Miami Beach. Before Christmas during the first week of December we wanted to catch some of that sun that was being denied to dear old blighty.
South Beach Miami. I was amazed with the Art deco area languishing amongst palm trees along the promenade. Promenade Des Anglais ? More like Promenade Des Latinos ! The Cuban-exile influence is high. The people are friendly with none of the "who the hell are you" attitude.
I was enjoying the sun away from a stressful job, and to put it mildly, taking it
easy. In the evening a warm wind caressed the face and guitar music sang to you
from neon lit bars. Where's the Odeon cinema ? It would be difficult to find amongst so much Art Deco buildings. Ah memories of Middlesex.
Strolling along South Beach I amused Nick with impeccable impersonations
of the film star Arnie Schwarzenegger. Regaling the locals with, "Nice night for a walk" or "I'll be back," from the film 'Terminator I.
Or even "I need you clothes, your boots, and your motorcycle," from 'Terminator II'.
That one produced some funny looks from the populace. Still I was buzzin' and didn't really care. Dragged into Gloria Estefan's restaurant 'Larios' I washed down spicy Cuban food with beer and vodka, - Olé !
Then early one morning Nick sort of had a fit. He'd been there with a girlfriend and it was a great place, good memories. That was it. He had decided to take the hire car to Key West, he was sure I would enjoy it.
"Yeah, but the sun is out and I'm still looking pale," I protested.
"You don't get tanned sitting in a car, you get tanned sitting on the beach," I moaned.
Don't argue with an Aries in this mood, so soon we were crossing bridges heading for Key West.
The car tyres sang and roared at us as we traversed the various types of road service. Four hours watching the sun from the comfort of a Japanese hire car.
What ever happened to the big limos ? Trundle , rumble , another bridge, another road - same one really. Another stretch of sea, another clump of bushes or trees. Fast food restaurants, lines of yachts. Finally Key West.
I just wanted a bar and a beach and a nice cool beer. Watch the ocean, relax.
First we had to visit the point where Robert Redford stood in the film Havana. Being a film 'buff' I did not mind. The round painted concrete monument announced we were just ninety miles from Cuba ! I kept my paperback about Che Guevara, hidden wrapped up in a towel in my bag ! The moment was recorded with the perfunctory photos.
Still pining for a beach and a beer I noticed an obviously unemployed actor/director giving the tourists unofficial guidance and his life history in the films.
"Ere mate, any beaches around here, -you know , bar sand that sort of stuff." I asked in my faultless English.
"Yeah, you got 'Atlantic Shoals' just down there. Yer got those Europeans taking off all their clothes." He drawled as he intoxicated me with whisky fumes, nearly spoiling my vision of a naked Claudia Schiffer.
We parked by a row of chalets and checked with a young lady in reception if it was o.k. to visit their beach.
I was parched as we strolled past the line of chalets and arrived at the pool and bar. A jetty stretched out to sea. Political correctness does not come easily to either of us.
"I'm heading for the ocean," said Nick. Dashing off towards the jetty.
I gazed around the pool and then to the bar, then back to the pool again. A lot of blokes, I thought with disappointment. Oh not so many there's some bloke rubbing sun oil in his girlfriends back. Wait a minute, they are both blokes !! "Strewth!"
Nick passed me en-retour the jetty at the speed of light. "Mutter, mutter, mutter. I'm going back to that woman in reception to give her a piece of my mind.
I have just seen a lot of naked men fondling and fraternising with each other. Standing to attention. If that black guy has got a standard fitting I'm feeling inadequate." He snorted hot smoke from his nostrils.
Nick, polite, mild mannered, a gentleman, started to emerge from his shell.
Back at the chalet reception the young lady had been joined by an older colleague, - or friend ? Nick went in feet first.
"I don't know what impression you got of us but we haven't come here to expect this sort of thing." He then shouted.
"Look ! WE like girls ! "
I became typically English and tried to master the understatement, "don't have that sort of thing where I come from, you know." All quiet and polite.
What I really wanted to do was burst into song. "There is nothing like like a dame!"
From the film 'South Pacific'. I doubt whether I shall get the chance again. Shocked at my normally polite friends' reaction. I stayed uncharacteristically quiet. We were told by the now ashen faced spinsters that 'Sloppy Joes' may have what we were looking for.
Later we both wanted to eat but could not find anywhere that suited both our palates.
It was either pizza or burger but not both. We spotted an information booth and headed in that direction. Nick asked if there was anywhere that could be recommended.
The man behind the counter looked my friend up and down, pouted his lips and flicked his hair. What, did Nick desire ? The chap seemed very keen to help. I am short and sometimes it pays not to be fancied.
The man in the information booth had long fingers and expressive hands that tried to explain everything.
"Now the best place for YOU is called PT's, just three blocks away,"
I waited for the line 'see you there later'. Luckily it never came.
We strolled towards 'PT's' . I asked Nick if he remembered the expression 'PT' from his school days. He couldn't , he went to school in Mexico City. I explained that when I was at school 'PT' meant - 'prick teaser' !!
Nick stopped in his tracks. "Look there's 'Sloppy Joes', forget about 'PT's' ."
We entered. Country and Western music. Wooden floors, bottles of Jack Daniel's lined up on the bar in front of large mirrors. I gazed at the Confederate Flags hanging on the walls. Pictures of Ernest Hemmingway seemed everywhere.
"This'll do !" Said I.
We related our earlier experience to the barmaid. She rested her ample cleavage on the bar. I ordered a beer and a coke. She arched an eyebrow.
"Put your hands in your pants and give it to me NOW! - Money for the drinks that is!"
She said with a wink.My personal moral from the story.
To quote a line from the film 'National Lampoon's Animal House' :-
"Fat dumb and stupid is no way to go through life son."
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