My Current Highway......

Last week was my first week back after 2 weeks of vacation with my parents. It was really strange being back here after sleeping a normal pattern every day, laughing, eating breakfast, watching the evening news, and having a regular happy hour. I am quite certain my mother thought me a complete lush when I offered her a bloody mary for breakfast assuring her "It's 5 o'clock somewhere!". But, no matter.

My parents and I rented a house on the water at Conch Key ( pronounced "konk" ) in the Florida Keys for a week. It was a 2 bedroom, 2 bath with a bungalow in the back, right on the water with a beautiful 40ft dock ( just perfect for my boat ), a Tiki hut with a BBQ, a covered porch that opened up to the dock, and a widow's walk on top. It had a nice music and book library, wood floors, and a practical and modern kitchen.

The sunsets were beautiful creations that could be fully enjoyed sitting on the dock sipping a sundowner. It was like a pastel fire across the entire sky. You could set your watch by the lobstermen's boats as they came and went by morning and evening, barrels of rock lobster sitting on the deck as they returned home. The boisterous voices, and the beats of the captain's choice music to unload the catch by could be heard as well. Laughter and joking over a good days haul was nice to hear. This was the Keys that jimmy Buffett wrote about in Margaritaville.

You see, this was no resort. It wasn't infested with tourists in crisp new fishing shirts from Worldwide Sportsman in Islamorada. It didn't have the feel of "prefabricated resort", or that awful, kitchy, corny "pirate flags and sea shells" motif, or worst of all the ever so popular " I'm a renegade fisherman, or biker bad ass" horse shit that seems to be becoming so prevalent down there. There were no sea kayaking classes being held, no yoga on the beach ( because there are no beaches on that key ) , nothing more than people just minding their own business enjoying life.

It was an actual little working Key, with locals who had a proud, and almost aloof attitude until they saw you a few times and you waved a greeting. These were people who lived there. And more than a few of them made their living there. They weren't dependent on tourist dollars, and almost seemed to dislike tourists all together. And who could really blame them? After seeing some of the best spring break had to offer I sure as hell couldn't. After a few days I even began frowning when an obvious "outsider" vehicle drove into our culdesac and did a u-turn. I became a bit protective of the peaceful, introspective atmosphere there.

There was a definite rhythm to the day, and the night that was based on not only the tides, but the course of the sun. All you had to do was just sit and listen to the breeze in the palms, and look into the water off the dock at the schools of fish hunting for dinner. Nature kept time better than any man made watch ever could.

For the first time in my life, my mother and I sat side by side and fished together. She sounded like she was a giddy schoolgirl when one night she spotted a 2 foot shark cruising by the dock due to our chumbags oil slick. "LOOK, IT'S A SHARK!" she exclaimed grabbing my elbow in a frenzy. I walked to the edge and peered over. "Be CAREFUL!!" she warned me. I giggled inwardly as this little creature could no more harm to me than a desk drawer. But, to her it was the Leviathan from JAWS come to life. I had never connected to her on such a level.

It was in short, a magical place.....

I stopped believing in magic years ago. I considered it a silly idea that was reserved for children, and silly places like Disney world where adults wear hats with mouse ears on them, eat 10 dollar corndogs, and force their terrified children to pose with super sized cartoon characters. It was a farce, a sham. Nothing more than a method of psychological suggestion to sell cheap junk, and wildly overpriced hotel rooms to the public sheep who stand in lines for hours and stay on waiting lists for months. It isn't magic, it is the purest form of hype. A mental frenzy induced by electronic show tunes, teenagers in woolly costumes, and "wizard of oz" architecture. It's as "magical" as shopping mall. That, coupled with the utter nonsense that many people believe about magnets, crystals, tarot cards and all that other jazz made me put the very concept out of my mind.

I'm glad to see it really does exist in some respects. It rekindled a drive in me I really cant explain. A sort of recharging of the soul if you will. It was so profound that I found tears of sadness and happiness streaming from under my sunglasses as began the long drive home..