That was the high point of the day. But what astronomical chances, especially since Key Colony is not on the beaten path. I stopped at Alabama Jack's on Card Sound on the way home and found it packed with people. Is there some kind of holiday going on I don't know about? I would have gone there instead. My guess is 160 to 180 people and a five piece orchestra. That was fun, so I'll grumble a bit more about JP no doubt but that's already history.I’m not sure I can recommend Leigh Ann’s. After an hour and fifteen minutes, I’m still waiting for my order. The staff looks early teens indicating they don’t pay enough. The décor is like a renovated beach store. That’s a nice touch. At this pace, you may get two reports today. That’s the pace of events, not the pace of Leigh Ann’s service.
Trivia. Sails and boat designs have followed different routes over the world. In the west, the front of the boat is bigger, tapering to the tail like a whale. In the east, the back of the boat is wider, like a duck. As time progressed, sails became more complicated, at least enough for me to follow the descriptions. In the end, except for clippers, the ultimate sails belonged to Dutch and English ships that sailed the Channel.
Sails were the culminating design of these vessels, apparently the Dutch models had fifty sails. This required an officer on duty, so the English always attacked when they knew there was a change of watch. The reason was that the blocks and such of the sails were so complicated that the officer coming on deck was forbidden to change the set for at least a half hour. It took that long to figure out what the last guy had done. Shows you what happens to people who have “nothing to hide”. Trust me, when there is a bored Englishman within eye- or ear-shot and you don’t conceal, you will soon be within cannon-shot.
Much of this jaunt to the Keys was spent with a good book, and what a book. This photo was afternoon coffee y’day, with the literature shown. TV people may recall a comedian called Steve Allen, with horn rim glasses. He decided to write a murder mystery called “Murder on the Atlantic”, the result being a most unusual plot of the usual clichés strung together. It’s light reading but a hoot. Reclusive millionaire with estranged wife builds luxury liner, stocks it with champagne, paintings, and most of his weak-kneed offspring, ex-wives, and cling-ons. I quickly lost track of who used to be married to who and cheated with who but the tale has all the ingredients, including royalty and a dozen sequel-enhancing loose ends in the final chapter.
In the end, JP didn’t show, so I’ll tear a strip off him for not calling, though I suspect he drove to Quizno’s to use their phone and that’s when I talked to Alaine. There you have it, Happy Birthday 2012. It enters history as a major dud, since JP and I working as a team have had the women stacked three deep at our table and he let the team down. I am doubly surprised he didn’t take an airplane to get here, he could have.
We have differing styles. I am the icebreaker, he is “Aw, shucks” type that the women get sweet on—after I bring them over. JP will not, repeat not, swoop in. On the other hand, my scoring ratio from the direct approach has fallen from 1:1 down to worse than (probably) 100:1. I told you how Florida women assume solo men are social rejects, so yes, JP and I work as a team. There may be more women than men in Florida, but the stats don’t rate quality. I’ve never even met a babe here who had her own blog. Or car. I’d settle for one who had her own car.
The world will end on December 31, 2012. I have proof. The last fifty calendars I’ve seen all mysteriously stopped on that date.
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