Local Observation / Sex With Plants

By Christina Oxenberg

I was minding my own business bopping along to something at the Hogs Breath Bar deep downtown Key West, when a young man spoke to me.

YM: What is your name?
CO: Cleopatra
YM: Where are you from?
CO: Egypt
YM: What’s your last name?
CO: Patra
YM: Can I get you a drink? Don’t tell me you don’t drink.
CO: I don’t drink, I don’t high five, I don’t say awesome and I don’t twirl on the dance floor. I’d love some water.

He smirked sweetly and bought me a bottle of water. He was part of a bachelor party pod of three old buddies, 30ish and drunk but conscious.

I offered to act as tour guide, after all the three gentlemen from New Jersey needed guiding around the Rock and I am always looking for adventure.

I herded them to the Garden of Eden, the ‘clothing optional’ spot. The sign at the door clearly instructs ‘No Sex On Premises’. Meanwhile a man, naked apart from dirty sneakers, appeared to be humping one of the potted plants. The leaves were shaking. Security didn’t interfere. I watched the New Jersey trio as they ogled the random nakedness and then I took them to a strip club.

The trick to strip clubs is you don’t want to get overly analytical about things. One way or another suddenly it was 4am and time to go. Gigantic bouncers were sweeping us out the side door. We closed the titty bar, and that is a fresh low. The New Jersey gentlemen were delighted.

When I got home the dusty grey cat was waiting on the sidewalk by the gate. I invited him in for a can of sardines.

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