“Got booze in the blender, and soon it will render, that frozen concoction that helps me hang on.”
           – From the Margaritaville national anthem

It started when I couldn’t come up with anything to fill this space. What better antidote for writer’s block than a quick visit to Key West! What follows is my recollection of Day One, which is as far as I got in my journal before things became a blur.

Up at the crack of noon, I went to Pepe’s, a Cuban coffee joint for a cup of dark roast and the morning paper. Included in the personals: “Attractive, sensuous woman wanted.” Two columns farther: “Very attractive sensuous romantic woman wanted.” Third column: “Wanted: attractive, slender, smart, foxy female, caring, upbeat, and willing.” (The third guy is a perfectionist.)

In my other favorite section, “Key West crime watch”:

Item: “Man arrested shoplifting a car battery.” The alert manager spotted the bulge in his duffle coat. You don’t see a lot of duffle coats in 90-degree heat.

Item: “Man caught stealing ravioli.” Witnesses saw the perpetrator stuffing three boxes of Chef Boyardee meals and two cans of ravioli down his cargo pants and wrestled him to the ground. At least he was dressed for the occasion.

Item: “Straights asked to leave.” A straight couple was discovered at Big Ruby’s Guesthouse. Said the manager, “Heterosexual couples are not welcome here. We had to abide by the majority, and our majority said bye-bye.”

Item: “Cruise ship overload.” Three cruise ships unleashed their hordes onto the streets yesterday, jamming sidewalks, halting traffic and affecting the Key West quality of life. So what’s the problem with 1,500 tourists lined up for a fried snapper sandwich at Captain Bob’s sidewalk grill? If they weren’t there, they’d be stepping in front of cabs.

Fishing report: “Keeper pulled out of Stock Island Canal.” The keeper turned out to be a golf cart.

Headline: “Pelican vs. Yorkie: Pelican wins.” Turns out a spunky little Yorkshire terrier was yipping at assorted birds along the wharf and decided to charge a pelican. On came the yipper, gulp went the pelican, and off it flew with the Yorkie in its pouch – watched by the horrified owner. The pelican then swung into a dive, opened its beak, and eschewed a hairball onto somebody’s lawn. Whereupon a disoriented, chastised Yorkie was retrieved with one helluva story to tell.

Then my focus was interrupted by the siren of a Key West police boat in the harbor, its blue lights flashing. Turned out some Cubans landed in a ’56 Buick (highly modified) at the nearby seashore state park. According to my waiter, trolling for Cubans ranks with sail fishing among local sports.

I noticed the sound of music wafting from The Schooner Wharf Bar, an open-air retreat at the dock’s edge for a confederation of grizzled island flameouts, some Harley types with Popeye arms, a few sea captain wannabes, and some Hemingway look-alikes trying to keep their charisma in check.

I ambled in for an after-breakfast Rum Runner, forgetting that I hadn’t had breakfast first. On the chalkboard above the bar: “Appearing tonight, the One-Eyed Monkey Band.” What, no Mantovani? A couple of stools away sat Key West’s own Dirty Harry chewing an unlit stogie, and in the corner, a table of uneasy tourists were being served affably by an imaginatively tattooed waitress who looked as though she’d been shot in the back with a pair or rockets.

I sat there in my sneakers, a prince trapped in the body of a geek – missing only the flip-down shades – and watched to see what would next climb out of Margaritaville’s primordial ooze. A conversation developed with a fellow on the next stool who ended up giving me his business card that read, “Earl Schartman, composer, playwright, philosopher.” A vanishing breed. The local Jimmy Buffet knockoff climbed onto the bandstand and sang about how “I got my waterbed filled just for you.” He said it was a cut from his newly available CD titled, “Gretta’s Tits.” Welcome to Key West, music lovers.

Fred Gehrung is a freelance writer who lives in the Marina. Fred has written features and humor for newspapers, including the Chicago Tribune, USA Today, The Boston Globe, and The New York Times. E-mail: [email protected]