Key West - Part Five (of Eight)
He’d recognize it when he saw it.
Previously: He wanted Jody to stop, to get out and to get dressed, but more than that he wanted Jody to never stop, to never dry off, to always be this undressed and free.
The Second Trip
Key West, with it’s many bars and restaurants, had more conch fritters than you could shake a stick at, but Matt Lang was not really in a stick-shaking mood and he didn’t like conch fritters, so he didn’t order any, not even in Key West, a place called the Conch Republic by those who like to pretend that it’s something that it’s not. Matt was looking for a bar he and Jody went to the first time around, but he couldn’t remember the name. The Opal Room, The Oval Room, The Orchid House? He knew that it was on Duval Street, so he thought he’d start on one end and walk to the other. He’d recognize it when he saw it.
On that first trip, they stopped at The Opal Room or The Orchid House and drank bourbon and tequila with a drag queen named Her Majesty and Her Majesty’s boyfriend. Encouraged by the tequila and his constitutional need to take every opportunity that came his way, Jody kissed Her Majesty. Her Majesty kissed him back. Her boyfriend punched Jody in the ribs, and Jody bit down on Her Majesty’s tongue. Her Majesty slapped Jody and threw a glass of bourbon in his face. Angry words followed, pushes and shoves, before the bartender kicked them all out.
Jody had long since spun that night into an epic narrative, a graphic novel of a tale, a soap opera, a WWE pay-per-view spectacular. It became a set piece. Friends who had heard the story dozens of times would ask to hear it again, knowing each telling would be more grand than the last. For Jody’s thirtieth birthday, his friend Eric gave him a series of drawings based on his telling of the tale. Jody had them framed and hung them above his bed.
The ashes would need to go in the bar, somehow.
Thank you for reading. Up next:
Jody looked left, Jody looked right. Jody said, This way.