Heartfelt thanks to the Key West Film Festival guys for bringing Hollywood Elsewhere to this hot & humid, wonderfully fragrant, somewhat boozy tropical neverland for four days (i.e., last night thru Sunday). HE was dark for several hours yesterday due to a lack of wifi on my LAX-to-Miami flight. And then I checked in and walked around and attended the KWFF opening-night party at the storied Audubon House. I’m staying at the upscale, totally pleasant Marker Resort, but if I had my druthers I’d be crashing at the Cypress House, an old (built in 1888), cultured hotel that dares to possess a slightly faded, Ernest Hemingway-esque, early 20th Century vibe — an almost repellent notion when it comes to your typical 2015 Kardashian-Kanye tourist who wants only brand-spanking newness and nouveau luxury. There’s a barricaded 1% aura around the Key West Westin Resort & Marina — if you’re not staying with us, keep your distance. I’ll be renting a bicycle today and maybe even a kayak…who knows? It’s touristy as fuck on Duval Street and around the Marina, but if you selectively edit that stuff out and concentrate on the other-worldliness — the quiet and shaded historical areas, the sea and sand, the Bahamian conch-style homes and the delicious scents and aromas, the feeling of being in a little hamlet that’s beginning to succumb to the U.S. of Vulgar Over-Commercialization but is nonetheless holding firm in certain areas — and the friendliness of the locals, and it’s pretty hard not to feel good about…well, everything.
One of the porches at Key West’s Cypress Hotel — the coolest old-vibe establishment I’ve yet come upon, and reportedly haunted.
It’s great to disembark from your jet and walk right onto the tarmac and feel that warm, tropical on your face, and then you spot that sign on the airport terminal announcing where you are.
Key West’s Smathers Beach, just south of the airport.
