Spectacular Spectacular

December 7th in the vernacular of my parents was a day that they will always remember where they were when they heard the news that Pearl Harbor was attacked. For me, and possibly many of my generation, it is the day before John Lennon was shot.

But this year, my friends, it is the day my wife and I wing off to sunny Florida, well Key West actually, to attend Fantasy Fest.

Those familiar with this spectacle will say, "Wait, it's too late for Fantasy Fest, that occurs on Halloween Week." Those in the know will simply nod their heads and say, "Ah yes, but not this year, my friend, not this December."

We had our flights to Ft. Lauderdale booked for October 26th. Some may remember that on or about the 23rd of October, the late season arrival of Hurricane Wilma to South Florida scuttled most everything in South Florida. On Wednesday morning the 26th, United Airlines cancelled our flight, and as we pondered what to do with our tickets, word came that Key West had rescheduled the Fest for, yes you guessed it, December 7th through the 10th. Without hesitation, we re-booked for that time.

I've never been to Fantasy Fest. I first heard of it some years ago when Diana and I visited our friend on Ramrod Key in early November. She mentioned to us that we should come down for Fantasy Fest sometime, that it was a wild time.

Needless to say, in the intervening years, Key West has become more of a destination, and the Fest has become more of a spectacle. Personally I probably would prefer the Key West of the 70's and early 80's to today's version, but since I cannot turn back the clock in South Florida any more than I can in South Jersey, I intend to make the best of it. If you check the cams, I will be the attractive middle aged man slurping down a beverage of choice on Duval Street, while snapping digital photos of the . . . uh . . . costumes being paraded about by men and women of all ages and sexual preferences.

I will NOT be the pot bellied middle-aged bald guy sporting the air brushed painting of an African Elephant . . . if you know what I mean.

Not that I COULDN'T be, I just choose not to be.