Mama, I'm coming home...

I am well aware that I live on a tropical island. I am reminded of this every morning as I step out onto the deck of the Rusted Root, butt naked, Cuban coffee and cigarette in hand, and gaze at the multi hued sunrise. I am also well aware that I live in Key West, Florida. I am reminded of this every morning when my neighbor, Gay Steve, whistles and catcalls at me but is discreet enough to wait until I am dressed to come over with the daily dose of Kahlua and vodka.

I am also well aware that thousands of tourists scrape and save for sometimes years before they can afford to spend two weeks down here, pissing away many, many dollars all in the name of recreation and vacation. Key West is one of the major tourist destinations in this country and if you haven't been here, well, it's kind of like Vegas, you need to visit at least once. So to say that I need a vacation from Key West is kinda like saying I need a vacation from bacon and cigarettes. It is nearly blasphemous. What kind of dumbass leaves Paradise? And more importantly...where the hell do you go?

I am going home.

Home...Home where the pot dealers and meth cooks run rampant. Home where the banana pudding and real pit BBQ flows like rum does here. Home to a dry county and NO social diversity. (Where I come from, diversity means that your neighbor is a Methodist) Home where they still take great pride in voting for Bush and Walmart is a social meeting place. Home where Momma still makes the BEST bisquits you have ever eaten and the sheriff is as corrupt as a Nigerian money making opportunity.

I miss Key West already.

My momma is sick, my daughter just made me a new grandfather, and I need a break from the insanity of this rock. I am taking a vacation from a permanent vacation. I will go and visit E., the biggest pot grower in West Tennessee and my best friend for 20 years. I will visit S. and F. who just came to KW to visit me and are now back home in rehab(Just Kidding, Guys). I will visit the Mom and eat real PORK for the first time in years.

I miss the island already and haven't even gotten on the plane. I will miss the Cafe Con Leche that I drink every morning. I will miss the bouganvillias that are blooming in reds, oranges, and pinks all over the place. I will miss the sunsets and the sunrises(Yes, we have those here, too). I will miss all you freaking weirdos, drag queens, artists, writers, and drunks. I am going home.

Of course, I will be back in a couple of weeks. I just need a break. I just need to go somewhere that can remind me of how oppressed the rest of the country really is, so that I can more fully appreciate the One Human Family, social diversity, and natural beauty of this place that I choose to call home.

Yes, I am going home. But home is where you feel the most comfortable, right? So I suppose I am leaving home to go home. And I will love them both for what they are.