Horse conchs were featured in a late 70’s era documentary I saw today called, “The Key West Picture Show.” The species is the largest snail in the Americas, and one of the largest univalves in the world. The horse conch may not be a true conch (what Key Westerners calls themselves), but neither is my attorney. He is originally from Windsor, Connecticut, and he moves at the speed of bidness (mo’ quicker than a Florida snail.)
Bull (my attorney) is like a walking one-man Facebook. The first thing he does is learn the names of everyone in the room with him. Then he asks them the most direct questions possible to flesh out their situation. Example; what’s the deal with your bad leg? He uses this information to press his advantage. It happens so fast that most people don’t know what hit them. This week in Key West, I am Bull’s wingman. I try to get ahead of the game to prevent brawls.
The two of us are working off an agenda that Bull surprised me the first minute of the first hour of the first day of the vacation. Because I work in a restaurant, I had mentioned that I’d like to eat a lot while down here. The agenda is basically a spreadsheet divided into seven meals a day (breakfast, mid-day, lunch, happy hour, dinner, late-night, and late munchies), with a different restaurant for each time slot. Occasionally he listed an activity such as “yoga on the beach,” or “African drumming,” instead.
The agenda is a rough sketch of the day ahead, at best. It was getting a little willy nilly, so I thought it would be a good idea for both of us to clarify the agenda by listing our top priorities. Bull’s priorities are… #1 African drumming, #2 sailing, #3 drag show, and #4 Church on Sunday (but not if it interferes with African drumming.) For the record, he has never drummed before, and we only have one African drum between us, so we’ll have to take turns. My priorities are… #1 beach, #2 running, #3 NBA Playoffs but ONLY ON HDTV.
Today we took the motor scooters up Route 1 to Stock Island to see Dominique’s house. Dominique would have been my grandfather-in-law had my dad remarried. He is a French chef who owned famous restaurants in Washington, D.C., and Miami Beach and authored cookbooks. Dominique was very kind to me back in the day; he told my dad and I great stories, generously took us out to eat and gave me gifts. He was also the first person to plant the seed of restaurant work into the soil bed of my mind.
Dom passed away about five years ago. Even though I hadn’t visited him in at least a decade, I was able to pick out his former home from all the other residences on Stock Island. Despite changes to the neighborhood, Dom’s house had an aura around it, and it called out to me. The neighbors confirmed that he used to live there. Perhaps Dominique is the ghost chef to my Ratatouille; a guardian angel over my shoulder in the kitchens and dining rooms I’ve occupied.
This is a provocative painting titled, “Smirk,” that hangs in the Green Parrot, above the electricity machine.
sweetness and light! i love the ray ban shades! so glad you dropped some cash to look sexy. the pix are great and i love the ‘growing old disgracefully’ t-shirt (so did your attorney). even if you’ve given up herb, i hope you used the side door for hippies in your last pix with the psycho baby painting.
the brunch chairs/tables were’t done last night.
i’m anxious already. alexa explained to me that we need to bend over and use our heads as battering rams up customer’s butts during service (on any given shift). somehow it sounded less revolting coming from her. in any case, i think she’s right and i plan on doing this tomorrow as you won’t be there to quell the insanity. shall i work bent over in a 90 angle for 6 hrs so my head is ready for insertion? perhaps.
Snork, if Dom is your Guardian Rat, then you should also get a large scarf.
I think this trip sounds amazing. I think that you worked out a lot of snorking in the sun. I am impressed and think that you are the #1 Tropical Bear, as well as the #1 Bear North of the Mason-Dixon Line.