I flip flop between wanting to be on the map and lost in space. I've flopped about 20 times and I always come back to the map. At the time of my last post, I was about as close to wanting to drift on into space as I have come, hence the long delay. I was also staying on a sailboat for the last few days, and without wi-fi.
From Boca Grande I went to Punta Gorda, and I had a shitty dinner. The next day I drove across the Everglades, where the last 275 Miccosukee Indians on earth, relegated to the middle of an asshole, tempt passerby's with knick-knacks and air-boat rides.
Since I have no plan, Key Largo sounded good. And it was. For two days. By then I had had enough snow-crab and sleeveless tee-shirts to satiate me for eternity. And since I was so close to Key West, I went to Key West.
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| Between Key Largo and Key West. |
I can also tell you that the island is also home to a rasta-chick with a laugh that sounds like a donkey being strangled by a really weak person. You will find her on Smathers Beach, directly next to whatever chair you decide to try and nap on.
After my fill of Key West, and a random meet-up with a friend from Nantucket (who had just posted a photo on FB of an old lady on a scooter that just seconds before had passed me by,) I decided to spice it up and head for Miami.
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| My housing in Miami. |
I realize that that fantasy is not so hard to wrap my head around, in truth. I manage this with simple logic: (1) most of the world lacks common sense, (2) a lot of these people have boats and manage not to kill themselves, therefore (3) I would probably be ok.
It also offers a different perspective on the world, living on a boat, however short the duration. Specifically, it answers the question: why would you not want to swim in a marina? The answer is that when you shit on a boat and flush the toilet, the first thing you hear is the boat re-shitting your shit into the marina. There really is no advantage over hanging your ass off the side beside something to support you and the ability to browse a magazine.
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| The very cool Wynwood area of Miami. |
The "two-bike" plan worked out well for me today, actually, and what seemed like an extravagant purchase proved it's worth. My main bike had a problem with the crank, or the crank had a problem with the bike. I don't know the specifics, but they didn't want to be together anymore.
So I limped back, switched to the other bike, and was able to make the day worth it. Although I had no help in this from any of the three Miami bike stores I went to who just looked at my Campagnolo gruppo and shook their heads like a doctor with no good news.
That's what I may hate most about Shimano, even though I use it. It's reverse snobbery. Yes, the Japanese made it better (maybe) but the Italians invented it, you shithead. In my brain, you are not a bike mechanic worth any salt if you don't know how to tighten a Campy crank. My balls on your chin, fucker.
As an epilogue, if you ever do have the occasion to go to Key West, it is worth it for the kind of picture below, but beware the donkey strangler.
