Roasted in the Keys
Our story begins in the so called rustic section of the park. This is the part where monster RV’s are not allowed. There is no water, no sewage or electrical hookup. Removing any possibility of neon flamingo lights or cries of B I N G O! past 9pm.
‘My husband is just wild about fishin’.’
‘Keeps them busy.’
‘Until we came down last week, he never fished before in his life.’
‘You really believe they’re fishing out there?’
‘Of course. Benny brought home some fresh caught cod last night for supper.’
‘Honey, that cod came from the Piggly Wiggly. They drink so much beer while they sit in that boat, they couldn’t catch one of their own farts.’
It was dark in the rustic section. The tents here were reasonably small. The sleeping bags here magically filled up with beach sand. The campers cooked dinner on small RUSTIC grills. They stumbled out of their tents for a pee in the middle of the night with shoes on the wrong feet and pants on backwards.
‘We used to own a two-thousand square foot colonial,’
‘Uh huh.’
‘Sold it two years ago for this Airstream.’
‘No kidding.’
‘The kids was all grown up and we figured, we didn’t need the space no mo.’
‘All you need is a little space.’
‘We’ve been coming to the fishing lodge every winter since.’
‘Nice people here.’
The rustic campers cooked fresh fish and roasted vegetables on their grills. The raccoons and deer sniffed appreciatively from the bushes. The deer were dying for a taste as they had long ago forsaken their woodland diet in favor of leftover marshmallows, crackers and burnt BBQ feasts. They snuck in to snack while the campers were sleeping. No dumb deer here, they even knew enough to wait until the grill cooled before attempting to chew off the spoils. Though the lesson was hard earned--nearly all deer ended their maiden forage with superbly blistered lips. Wildlife watchers wondered why all deer on Big Pine Key had such particular pouts?
One particular camping couple was preparing their feast. They hung their gas lamp in a tree to illuminate the kingfish steaming in packets of aluminum foil on the grill. There was corn on the cob, red peppers and onions roasting. A young deer watched from the bushes, drooling onto his hoof in anticipation of leftovers to come.
Just before dinner was served, the couple rolled up a joint. Dinner was always tastier. The stars were brighter--all desired effects. The surprising other side effct was that campsite became weirder. Or had all the insanity been going on before and they just never noticed?
‘If you drive two islands up to Marathon, the coffee is only a dollar ninety-nine a pound.’
‘Marathon?’
’Bout fifteen minutes from here.’
'I wish I knew that yesterday.’
‘Costs a couple dollars in gasoline, that’s why you gotta buy lots of coffee.’
‘We don’t drink an awful lot of coffee, the wife has a bad valve…’
‘Doesn’t matter. You drive further so you don’t get fleeced on the coffee. Remember to stock up while you’re there. They say there’s a war in Colombia…’
‘My husband is just wild about fishin’.’
‘Keeps them busy.’
‘Until we came down last week, he never fished before in his life.’
‘You really believe they’re fishing out there?’
‘Of course. Benny brought home some fresh caught cod last night for supper.’
‘Honey, that cod came from the Piggly Wiggly. They drink so much beer while they sit in that boat, they couldn’t catch one of their own farts.’
It was dark in the rustic section. The tents here were reasonably small. The sleeping bags here magically filled up with beach sand. The campers cooked dinner on small RUSTIC grills. They stumbled out of their tents for a pee in the middle of the night with shoes on the wrong feet and pants on backwards.
‘We used to own a two-thousand square foot colonial,’
‘Uh huh.’
‘Sold it two years ago for this Airstream.’
‘No kidding.’
‘The kids was all grown up and we figured, we didn’t need the space no mo.’
‘All you need is a little space.’
‘We’ve been coming to the fishing lodge every winter since.’
‘Nice people here.’
The rustic campers cooked fresh fish and roasted vegetables on their grills. The raccoons and deer sniffed appreciatively from the bushes. The deer were dying for a taste as they had long ago forsaken their woodland diet in favor of leftover marshmallows, crackers and burnt BBQ feasts. They snuck in to snack while the campers were sleeping. No dumb deer here, they even knew enough to wait until the grill cooled before attempting to chew off the spoils. Though the lesson was hard earned--nearly all deer ended their maiden forage with superbly blistered lips. Wildlife watchers wondered why all deer on Big Pine Key had such particular pouts?
One particular camping couple was preparing their feast. They hung their gas lamp in a tree to illuminate the kingfish steaming in packets of aluminum foil on the grill. There was corn on the cob, red peppers and onions roasting. A young deer watched from the bushes, drooling onto his hoof in anticipation of leftovers to come.
Just before dinner was served, the couple rolled up a joint. Dinner was always tastier. The stars were brighter--all desired effects. The surprising other side effct was that campsite became weirder. Or had all the insanity been going on before and they just never noticed?
‘If you drive two islands up to Marathon, the coffee is only a dollar ninety-nine a pound.’
‘Marathon?’
’Bout fifteen minutes from here.’
'I wish I knew that yesterday.’
‘Costs a couple dollars in gasoline, that’s why you gotta buy lots of coffee.’
‘We don’t drink an awful lot of coffee, the wife has a bad valve…’
‘Doesn’t matter. You drive further so you don’t get fleeced on the coffee. Remember to stock up while you’re there. They say there’s a war in Colombia…’
posted by Camille at 7:34 pm
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