I found myself in South-West Florida in January and somehow convinced my step-father to let my wife and I take his Corvette down to the Florida Keys for a long weekend. It was the first but not the last time I’ve been down to the Keys. I should’ve learned my lesson.
No. #0420_18A - Islamorada, Florida Keys. January of 2016.
We stayed at a place lovingly referred to as the Pines and Palms Resort. It was essentially a glorified motor lodge with no pines and very few palms and could hardly be considered a resort. It did have a pool and a bar and a guy with a gray pony tail playing Jimmy Buffett and Grateful Dead covers on an acoustic guitar. In fact every place we went seemed to employ the same leftover deadhead with a guitar playing cover tunes, like they were part of some local leftover union of musicians.
No. #0422_26A - Hotel. Islamorada, Florida Keys. January of 2016.
The Keys are beautiful, but when you start looking closer it get’s pretty weathered and a little grim, a theme park that never really caught on, then ran out of money, and the employees all decided to hang on until someone shuts the power off, and that was back in 1968.
Let’s be honest, Florida is weird.