It may sound glamorous to be part of a celebrity’s entourage, but let me assure you; it’s not. Normally, it is maybe a ten minute walk from our time share at the Banyan Resort to our favorite watering hole, The Schooner Wharf. The walk back has been known to take a lot longer. It’s amazing how the headwinds here in Key West can pick up over the course of an afternoon at The Schooner Wharf.
When you’re in the company of a heavyweight like E.B. Heron, you better pack a lunch for the trip. I think that Napoleon’s army had an easier time getting to Moscow. They only had to face the bayonets of Russian infantrymen. We had to deal with much worse, namely, camera-armed tourists. They all wanted photographs with the famous literary lapwing. Key West hasn’t seen anything like it since the days of Ernest Hemingway.
And so E.B. is garnering all the attention this week. Jimmy Buffett himself could have been playing “Last Mango In Paris” there at Captain Tony’s as we walked by, and still everyone including the bartenders would have emptied the place to get a glimpse, leaving Jimmy to serenade the bras hanging from the ceiling.
We did make it to the Schooner Wharf eventually, where all species are welcome, including those endemic to northern New Jersey. There, E.B. befriended singer-songwriter Michael McCloud’s dog, Princess, and barely escaped a confrontation with an obviously jealous cockatoo.
Those Cabo tequila drinks finally caught up to him, though, and so he took refuge under the table for the rest of the afternoon. I was left to guard against the horde of autograph-seeking pigeons.