I Went To Key West, Got Hot & Came Home With Fiji

I made bar plans last night, and we all know how those work out. If every plan I made in a bar came to fruition, I’d have a lot of tattoos, but I don’t have any; I would have run two or three marathons in exotic locations like Hawaii or Fiji, but I have never run a marathon, nor have I ever been to Hawaii or Fiji; and I would have been to every middle square state with each of my friends, to visit their hometowns, and relive their best high school memories. And I would have been a Rod Stewart groupie.

But the bar plans I made last night are different. Last night’s bar plans were carefully plotted with my husband’s close friend’s wife, who is my friend too. We are going to Key West for Christmas this year Y’all.

Our friends have never been as adults, and we’ve decided to make a road trip out of it, spending the night along the way, and shopping at the huge mall near Miami. The husbands are going to drive, and us wives are going to drink alcoholic beverages in the back seat. Who cares if Florida has a law against open containers in moving cars? Not us! Although, our friends may fly down too -and we might drive by ourselves, and pick them up in Miami…. And this would be the not-so-clear-bar-plan-logistics part of our plot, to be worked out later. Sober.

Regardless, I’m excited to go back to the Southernmost Point, because when we were there last December, I could only enjoy adult beverages on the first two days and the last day of our vacay; so basically I was sober for most of the trip. But on the last day, I made up for the sober days and I drank too much, and then fell in the closet somehow.

The middle days of our Key West vacation were sober days for me because on our second full day on the island, my husband and I decided to go for a run; mid-day, after a blurry night of mojitos -which, by the way, are especially good in Key West. And I’m a Florida girl, so I know better -but I did it anyway. I ran without hydrating, in the heat of the day, and at my Hub’s super-fast-olympic-pace, and I got heat exhaustion.

We were traveling with my husband’s college roommate and his wife, and I didn’t know them well so I wanted them to like me, for my husband’s sake (believe it or not, I can be overly-opinionated, sort of bitchy, and sometimes polarizing). I also didn’t want to be the ‘high-maintenance’ wife; I really wanted to just blend. So, I ignored the heat exhaustion. Because you know, if you ignore it, then it goes away.

After the run, I showered, grabbed a cup of coffee, not food or WATER, and I put on a BLACK shirt, and set off with my husband ON FOOT, not cab, to meet our friends at the Atocha museum.

And the whole time my husband watched me.

Kelly are you okay, your face looks really red.

“I’m fine.”

Are you sure?

“Yep. I’m good.”

We had this exact conversation about ten times.

We fast-walked about five miles (we got lost, as confusion is part of heat exhaustion, and I was our navigator). When we arrived at the museum our friends were there and I thought the cool air would help me, and I would blend, and all would be good.

But all of a sudden I was surrounded by Japanese tourists with-no-sense-of-personal-space, and the walls began to close in, and my throat started to close up…

and Hubs, who had not stopped watching me, asked me for the eleventh time….

Kelly are you…

“NO-O-O!” (in a super-loud screaming voice, similar to the shower scene from Psycho)

And before the walls closed in on me, I shoved about five short Japanese people out of my way and I busted out of the museum double-doors like a Black-Friday-Shopper, and made my way to a park bench outside, with people parting for me like the Red Sea did for Moses. And there, on the bench, I quasi-collapsed, in the shade.

And my husband and our friends trailed behind me, and then gathered around me with looks of surprise, shock and horror on their faces. So much for not making a scene.

That’s why this bar-plan will come to fruition. I can’t wait to go back to Key West again, not make a scene and drink a lot of mojitos. Everyday. And this time I will remember my brain, and not overheat. And hopefully my husband’s college buddy and his wife will go with us again (I think they liked me). I’ll also avoid the Carradine-style closet mishap too -because however THAT happened, I ended up with a bruise the size of a Fiji on my butt.


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