When the dead guy raised his matted head from the sticky counter at the Schooner Wharf bar Sunday morning, I almost pooped myself. He smelled like Grandma's douche and looked as (erp!) used. He had a filthy nylon bag sitting on the wet floor next to his barstool that reeked of ass, spoiled beer, and vomit. He was wearing one shoe and on the other foot was what appeared to be the first of the BP oil spill tarballs eating his foul toes.I could smell his breath from across the open air room. He was arguing with the bartender about the recent ban on dogs in local Key West bars.
"I'm glad they got rid of 'em. They's just damned unsanitary!"
You don't say...
I am constantly amazed at the stupidity of humans, the study of which I have devoted my life. There has never been in recorded history a more enduring trait by which to define our species. Organized religion has not even been more pervasive or damaging to our credibility as the superior animal on this planet. The recent banning of dogs in bars and restaurants in our fair "dog friendly" city is, in a word, stupid. Allegedly stemming from a $18,000 lawsuit because some drunk lady tripped over a sleeping dog at the bar and a gung ho health inspector with a hard on for the Schooner Wharf and dogs apparently, the ban has been damaging this town in irreparable ways, namely, a decline in quality drinking companions.
Oh, I mean I guess I could drink with the dead guy. Or maybe the fat guy at the Half Shell loudly bragging to his porcine out-of-town retired policeman buddies that he still had a stain on his shirt from the night before when he accidentally threw up on the dancer from Teasers. All the while they are dripping oyster stuffs down their own shirts and laughing with mouths open. Or how about the funky homebum sitting in a puddle of his own urine on the sidewalk in front of my favorite breakfast joint when I am craving my daily bacon and whiskey fix. I know! I can drink with that jackhole who cannot wait to regale me with his saliva laden stories of how cool he is through the considerable gap in his two front teeth.
These farquads are allowed to exist within my drinking and breathing space yet I can't bring my little LuLu Renee along on my daily "fact-finding" missions? LuLu is half Boston Terrier, half French Bulldog, and all diva. LuLu is cleaner than most people I know. She takes a bath at least twice a week and thanks to doggy biscuits, keeps her breath fresh and free of that pesky "I've been drinking cheap vodka from the belly button of a crackwhore before 9am" doggy breath. Lulu will not walk barefoot through a mud puddle. She will not let her own urine touch her body. She has never been guilty of blowing cheap-assed cigar smoke across any one's conch fritters. She doesn't smoke. She will not take a crap if anyone can see her.
LuLu has never told an offensive joke involving someone's skin color. She will not laugh at yours. She will not ever bring her dirty, stinking laundry bag to the bar to sit fermenting in the hot sun for five hours while she gets her drink on. She cleans up after herself. She is a good tipper.
I suppose now, Island Dogs will have to change it's name to Island Pigeons and Michael McCloud will have to change the song "Schooner Wharf Dog" to "Schooner Wharf Clumsy Tourist Who Spoils It For Everyone Else Because You Don't Remember How To Pick Up Your Feet". What happens the next time a tourist blows out a flip flop and steps on a pop top? Ban Jimmy Buffett music? Margaritas?
If LuLu cannot frequent the establishments and joints that we used to haunt in town, where are we to go? Alongside the lovely Sam, LuLu is my best friend and drinking companion. The bars in this town will certainly lose more than $18,000 on our annual whiskey tab alone. What is happening here is nothing less than the de-freakification of Key West, the freakiest town on Earth. Take away our freaks, geeks, dogs, sailors, open containers, Christmas Tree Island, public nudity, and what are we? Just another over-Disneyfied pretentious tourist town, existing only to serve the almighty dollar and keep the tourists safe. From us, presumably.
For the record, some of us are not happy about this situation at all. We will be at Don's Place. That includes LuLu, who says she may just take up smoking after this.
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