Fantasy Fest Survival

OMG! I almost forgot what time of year it is. It's Fantasy Fest Time. Yeah, I've been, Nah, I didn't get a total body paint, Yeah, I got me some beads, wampum,...and I still couldn't get me a drink. Here's the story.
We happened to be in DC at Gangplank Marina on 9/11, we happend to be scheduled to fly out of Reagan that morning back to Kansas and home, obviously, that didn't happen. The Potomac was closed and we were stuck, but I have to say what a profound time to be there and we wouldn't trade it for the world. However, 3 weeks later the Potomac opened up and the cap'n says "I'm going to Fantasy Fest!" Not even stopping by Disney World, he was going to "Fantasy Fest!" And as he likes to say, "I've been to two pig pullin's and three county fairs but I ain't never seen nothin like that. Well, if you're going to go take some advice from me.

FANTASY FEST SURVIVAL GUIDE


“Get dressed up and I’ll take you out tonight,” the cap’n said.

I could hardly believe my ears. What would I wear? A little short slinky number or something more sophisticated? Where will we go? A nice, quiet restaurant or a lively bar? I’ll go all out. I’ll put on make-up and even style my hair. Of course, I’ll have to do it under the hand dryer in the marina bathroom.

This was all before I found out the cap’n’s idea of dressing up was an itsy bitsy bikini top and a long, but tight mermaid skirt.

“Uh, I don’t think so!”

Not with this forty-something, never-met-a-food-group-I-didn’t-like body. Now I don’t mind indulging the cap’n’s sordid imagination on the rare occasion. But in the privacy of our own boat, for Chrissakes! Not out in public! Not on your Buster Browns!

“Where in the world did you think you were going to take me dressed like that?” I implored.

“To Fantasy Fest,” the cap’n replied.

“I can’t go in that get-up,” I cry. “I’ll be horribly over-dressed!”

For the few unfortunate and unenlightened souls out there, Fantasy Fest is a yearly event in the Conch Republic of Key West. Every year in October thousands of people converge on this small island to dance, go naked, get painted, and get plastered.

A lot of us think this is fun!

A few tips before you go though:

Have a designated place to meet if you should get separated because amidst a throng of 70,000+ bodies, you will get separated. And when you do get separated the cap’n should at least put up a plausible act of trying to find you. Unlike one cap’n I know very, very well (right down to a certain special place where the angels kissed him) who, when his first mated finally located him at 4:00 a.m., said ,”But Honey, I stayed in the same spot where we got separated the whole night so you could find your way back to me.” The fact that he was finally located a half a mile from that spot was damaging enough. The numerous pictures of numerous pairs of female protuberances in front of numerous different bars sealed the verdict. Busted!

Make sure each of you has your own money. I witnessed one poor abandoned mermaid who had gotten separated from her cap’n who didn’t even have the fare to pay for the water taxi back to her boat, much less any money to buy herself a drink. I did have one very nice older man that kept offering me a ride on "their bus" back to the hotels that I had to convice that his bus could not take me back to my boat on a mooring in Garrison Bight. I did manage to borrow the 15.00 water taxi fee from him, now if I could only find the water taxi. I should have had a counter on for how many times I walked between Duvall Street and Schooner's Wharf. Now for those of you that choose to undergo a total body painting you’ll have to be a little more imaginative in stashing your cash. A“fanny pack.”perhaps.

The cap’n advises that you take your dog with you, in case you get separated from your first mate. You’ll need some companionship. No, Dummy, not from the dog. You use the dog as a chick-magnet. Apparently it works because Stanley, the dog, got more beads I did and he didn’t even have to humiliate himself to do it.

Buy your first-mate lots of beads so she won’t feel rejected if nobody asks to view her feminine attributes. Not that she would show them if asked. Would she?

Have Fun! And by the way, if you see some poor, lost, bedraggled mermaid wondering around, buy me a drink, darn it!

Aw!! Stanley looks so young then, he's older now, wiser, and blind. The same could be said of me.