Yes, I can count. (I misspell things often, but I can count.) This is Day 5. My last post was on Day 3. There were many adventures these past 2 days, and I will try to fill you in. I’ve learned much about the Conch Republic. It is a land of adventure and spectacle. I believe that more research needs to be done here, but alas I must return to Indiana as Mrs. S has business in St. Louis to attend to and I must catch up on the latest adventures of Professor Gizmo. I must also continue the finishing touches on the novel that is coming out next month.
The day was filled with many ups and downs. I spent the early hours at the home of Ernest Hemingway. It was time well spent as I learned about his four wives —and learned how I should not in any way shape or form feel the need to best him in this endeavor. This was made abundantly clear by Mrs. S. It seems during one of his spats with wife #2, he tossed her his the last penny he had in his pocket after she had spent $20,000 installing a pool while he was away. Not to be upstaged, she had it encased in the concrete next to the pool. Both are shown below.
We’ve entered the Conch Republic. Our arrival was a bit of a let down, as we expected to be met with some fanfare. However, it appears that Americans visit this island nation quite frequently and the locals don’t seem to get that worked up about it.
On the way into the country we spotted a plain white airship with no markings. I believe it to be a spy ship of some sort from the NSA or the CIA. I believe they are spying on marine life, Conch Republic fisherman, and of course our movements. As we haven’t decided if the Conch locals are friends or foe, I will continue to travel under the name Rasputin.
We were also shadowed by a boarder patrol agent on our way from Miami. We documented his movements. Although the Conch Boarder entry isn’t secure, we fear this agent might impede our return to the U.S. If so, we will stay and do more research on what appears to be a growing rum industry in this country.
Mrs S had to be lured on this trip with the promise of fresh and abundant seafood. So far, she has not been disappointed. We’ve taken to the local dining establishments. We discovered BLT Benedict for breakfast (Bacon, lobster, & tomato). After tasting it, I’m certain this might have something to do with the secession movement. I believe they want to keep it to themselves.
We have also discovered that the island seems to be overrun with chickens. They come and go as they please and don’t seem to have gainful employment. I asked a particular one if it bothered him that I was eating eggs. He looked at me with a level of contempt that told me that someday they would unite and peck their way to the ruling class. Already their numbers are alarming.
As for the humans, I spoke to a local named “Tim.” He didn’t want me to use his real name (Tim), so I put it in quotes. “Tim” tells me that many Cubans came to Key West for freedom and to expand the popular sport of cock fighting. When that practice was finally outlawed, they took up cock wrestling. The sport only lasted a few weeks, as it was not as popular and they couldn’t get the birds to wear the luchador masks. Now the only sport on the island that involves chickens is to see what middle school euphemism for the word cock you can print on a t-shirt.
We haven’t witnessed much unrest, but we do believe that the Conch Navy is planning a stealth mission under the guise of a fishing expedition. We observed these men getting ready to leave port and their behavior was most sinister. We will have to continue to monitor them from the bar, I mean, camouflaged look-out from which this photo was taken.
Our quest to observe mischief and report on it from this curious island nation continues We will be visiting the home of Ernest Hemingway as well as a man who claims to be the U.S. Ambassador to the Conch Republic. I suspect both will be enlightening. Until our next report…
Carry on, Citizens!
We’ve arrived in Miami. The flight was fine, but our journey almost began with a disaster. I left my primary blogging device back in my office. Outstanding Citizen Jodi delivered the device to us at the airport before we had to take off. Citizenry of this magnitude deserves flowers. Or Vodka. No it deserves both! It deserves flowers in a vase filled with vodka, I’m certain of it.
The airport smelled like a dirty mop and looked like a truck-stop. The glitz of South Beach hadn’t made it over here yet. I found many examples of unrest about to happen, but I avoided them. On another journey, I might have tried to encourage and then document the unrest (for purely academic reasons mind you), but such doings might distract from my primary mission. I pressed on.
There were lots of people speaking a foreign language. I could tell they weren’t speaking proper grammar, even though I didn’t understand their native tongue. As they crowded us on the train, they reeked of double negatives. The trail of tears to the rental car hub left me vanquished. Mrs. S negotiated for a vehicle. I requested something bullet proof, as visiting a rogue country could be dangerous. The rental car employee looked at me with curious and wary eyes. She almost didn’t let us have the car. “Does he have to drive this?” I think I heard her ask Mrs. S.
Our accommodations were more than adequate. I’ve checked in under the name Rasputin, as per my usual method of traveling in disguise. More to come.
Carry on, Citizens!