89 Miles And Some Change To Cuba

We’ve had decent luck with the weather so far this week in Key West, which is to say, many parts of the island can still be accessed without the aid of a kayak.  One notable exception is the Southernmost Point.   It is the closest that an American citizen can get to Cuba without being tagged as a potentially hostile, left-leaning, pinko communist sympathizer by the FBI.  They will not buy the excuse that you were just looking for a good cigar.

So, why was E.B. so adamant yesterday about having us take him there for a photo op?  I really can’t say, but such are the challenges that one must face when travelling with such an adventuresome fowl as E.B. Heron.  And so off we trudged to the Southernmost Point, which, being the Southernmost Point, happens to be located on—or at times like yesterday—in the water. 

A large buoy marks the geographical significance of this point, and it is among the most popular landmarks on the island for tourists to have their pictures taken.  But that was not the case yesterday.  We arrived there to find a handful of tourists huddled across the street from the marker, cowering as waves came smashing over the seawall, itchy trigger fingers twitching about their shutter release buttons.   

But E.B. was not to be deterred.  He was going to get his photo op come hell or high water, at least one of which was pretty much a given.  Not only that, but he wanted me in the picture as well, to hold him from being carried off to Miami by the buffeting wind.  It must really stink to be made of light plastic.   But E.B. is a waterfowl.  I, on the other hand, am not.  Ocean spray and seaweed do not figure in my idea of a tropical paradise.

If this is what it’s like to be a writer, I think I’m going to choose a more restful hobby, like maybe alligator wrestling.

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