Back to Reality

I've just returned from a short stay in Key West, Florida. For those of you not familiar with Key West, it is an island, it has palm trees, and it is the southermost point in the continental US. There's a marker intended to identify the actual southernmost point; but, while my map reading skills may not be my greatest strength, I am somewhat skeptical of the marker's location being the actual southermost point, since even a casual read of a map of the island shows any number of other spots which are, well, more south.

No sense quibbling over a few hundred yards, though, the marker itself is largely symbolic. Symbolic of the sheer enormity of the political experiment that gave rise to one of the most powerful nations on the planet. Symbolic of man's triumphs against nature - it is situated near the origin of an underwater cable that was laid to Cuba across 90 miles of open water to Cuba in the late 1800's. Symbolic of man's eternal idiocy, as it seems to be a favorite site for both graffiti and public urination. Evidently, it's something of a rite of passage to relieve oneself while carving something profound into the marker, like "Bob + Shaniqua" or "OJ Simpson wasn't here".

Key West itself is surprisingly (well, to me anyway) not nearly as schlocky as one might expect of a popular tourist destination. This is not to say that it's entirely schlock-free: there is no shortage of ersatz-nautical-theme restaurants featuring such maritime staples as Cap'n Dave's Grilled Chicken Sandwich, and shops selling cuted-up t-shirts ("If you think I'm cute, you should see my mom/aunt/cousin/sister/babysitter/granny") - but there's an interesting mix of the sanitized and the real here that you don't get in a lot of other seaside communities. Beach bums sleep in beat up cars outside ornate Spanish villas. The eccentric and the insane share the streets with the beer-bellied and the Hawaiian-shirted. Men with arms like Popeye row into town for supplies from their boats anchored just far enough out that they can live for free, but not so far that they are completely isolated.

I went to attend the wedding (actually a renewal of wedding vows) of my oldest friend, Mike. I first met Mike in 7th grade, when we were gawky teenagers. Our concerns then were about whether we'd pass the math test and whether anyone would figure out that it really doesn't take 90 minutes to hook up a microphone for a school assembly (we learned early the benefit of arcane knowledge unshared). It's interesting to see how we, and the others that we know from that same era, have grown up without, I think, growing old. I certainly don't feel as old as I expected to now that I've sailed well north of 35. We still like our parties, but we manage our responsibilities, too.

I also met some really warm, interesting people - friends and family on both sides - who made the trip really enjoyable. Props to Tim and Jessica for hosting us so graciously on so many evenings (I know firsthand how trying that can be...), to Greg and Cris for admirably balancing the needs of the party with the needs of a baby, and to all the others in whose company my visit felt even shorter than it was. But thanks especially to Mike and Ali for giving us all a reason to get together in such a beautiful place to participate in such a wonderful event.

And now, back to the routine of daily life. Come on, retirement.