I have negotiated the highways and
byways of London. I have attempted to decipher the street signs in Crete. I
have taken the wrong turn on many a Mexican road. Yet, I have survived.
However, I have never encountered anything close to driving in Key West.
Of course, I should at this point describe
the vehicle I am attempting to maneuver:
a rather large, very black , 4 door half ton crew cab Ford F-150, 3.5
liter Twin Turbo, V-6 with Eco Boost,
and 4-wheel drive to boot. Now I realize this may not make sense to the
uninitiated. As it does not to me. Let's just say it's a BIG MUTHA.
We are staying in our motor home on
Saddlebunch Key about 15 miles from Mile Zero. Normally, my husband does the
driving, as this behemoth, which we tow behind the RV, belongs to him. I take
no responsibility for it. My name is not on the registration.
But this particular evening I am
due at the initial dinner for a humor (how apropos) workshop in which I am
participating and guests are not included. Thus, I am forced to drive. The
dinner starts at 7:30. I leave mile marker 14.5 around 7 pm. Am I nervous about
driving this monster truck into Key West? Yes, a little. No...actually, a lot.
I am fully aware that I am about to
embark upon a world of scooters, roosters, bicycles, skateboards, pedicabs, roosters,
motorcycles, roosters, open air electric cars (both four seater and six
seater)...and of course, normal cars. Lots and lots of normal cars. And, oh
yes, pedestrians, many of whom are carrying open drinks and wearing tee shirts
with catchy phrases like "I'm
Not Drunk, I'm Normally Loud, Offensive and Clumsy." And again, due to the
recent solstice, it is dark. Very, very dark.
I make it to mile marker zero. Now...Parking.
Oh god, parking in Key West. We have
been here long enough to know about a delicious free parking lot. I would give
you its location, but then I would have to kill you. I head for it. However,
this delicious free parking lot, due to the recent solstice, is dark, very,
very dark. My good sense alerts me to the fact that I am:
1). A woman alone,
2.) Unable at this juncture to walk
with confidence and
3.) Do not want to step over the
man sleeping on the sidewalk.
I relent and find the post office
parking lot where I gladly pay $15.00 to spend one and half hours talking to
people I have never met.
My trusty gps tells me it is only
two blocks to the venue. I make it on time. Chat, chat, chat...eat, eat, eat
...but just drink, drink. Not drink, drink, drink because I still have to make
it home. I meet my workshop leader, Daniel Menaker, and several fellow, jovial
participants. Now. It's time to head back to mile marker 14.5.
I leave the venue, and immediately
turn to the right out of the gate,
because as I approached the venue, I turned left into the gate. I know the post office parking lot is only two
blocks and a couple of turns away. A piece of cake.
After this, it is a blur.
Which street do I turn on? And
which way? I head in the direction I think is right. No. Not right. I cross the
street and head the other direction. No. Still not right. I ask someone who
appears to be a local (not wearing a catchy phrase emblazoned tee shirt) where
the post office is. He directs me back to the direction from which I have come.
I am certain he is wrong. So, I continue on my way until I find a store,
preparing to close and ask the proprietor where the post office is. He tells me
he doesn't know. Lovely. The frickin post office is only two blocks away and this
guy doesn't know where it is? Obviously, he has given up letter writing for
email, go figure. I continue on
and see a woman standing in front of another store handing out samples of some
type of lotion. I ask her the whereabouts of the post office. She gives me the
same directions the first man did, hands me one of her samples, and asks if I'd
like a makeover. I consider it. For about two seconds. She then adds, as I'm
walking away, "But I don't think it's open". Thank you for that.
I put my total trust and well being
into the hands of this wannabe esthetician. I begin walking the route she
recommended, (which, by the way, was entirely counter to my keen sense of
direction). After the first turn off of Duval I immediately encounter, thank
you solstice, a lonely, dark street, devoid of humans (I hope). And then, after walking another half block, what to my wondering eyes should
appear? My precious, loveable, adorable
black monster! First on my to do list when I return home: put MY name on the
registration!
