“Everybody has a place they go, when the old battery gets running low…” – Coconut Tree, Kenny Chesney”
There are some places that I go that… How do I describe it? are a window into heaven. Even that’s not right. You just have to experience it in its fullness to appreciate. And I’m not sure you could experience them; not if you are in the normal state of awareness that the overly consumerized american is.
The places I speak of have a “vibe”; an energy that they give off that makes them special. They feel relaxed and easy to be a part of. When you are there, the place itself feels like a friend for life. It will never betray you and will give you support when you need it in the form of memories or a cold drink. You may know a place like this. I may know the same ones.
Picture a shack nailed together on a beach, that offers cold beer and pain killers from an ice chest. On its weathered grey, drift wood walls hang artifacts of the faithful. Some were brought by their by patrons from far and wide. Others washed up right in front of it and nailed into place to block the light in the early morning or an unwanted drop from a summer rain. They display t-shirts and bra’s from inebriated customers, who loved the place enough to leave part of themselves there. Many of the rained stained planks of ship-lap host pictures of famous and powerful, as well as unknown and soulful. On certain nights, a band plays covers interspersed with their own flavors while new
memories are nailed to the ceiling or drawn with a Sharpie.
Through the years I have found many of these places. Ivan’s stress-free bar and Sydney’s peace and love on Jost van Dyke. Pirates Cove in Josephine, Alabama. Captain Tony’s (when captain Tony was still around) on Key West. I tell whoever will listen about them. Sometimes they make the pilgrimage to the same place. Many don’t have the same experience I did. I am often perplexed as to why. Is it simply a different time and place? Or do these places only reveal their truest and purest nature to those that are ready?
Some are harder to see the magic. Some easier. For example, Captain Tony’s appears at first glance to be just another tourist trap in Key West serving rum punches (Captain Tony’s version of course). And maybe its best just to treat it that way. But there’s a history in the place that, when Tony was alive, could be somewhat teased out. And if you have time to show up more than once, you can get much of that history from a long term worker. CT’s is one of the harder ones to observe the magic.
Sydney’s P&L is much easier to feel the magic. It starts with the bar. Its self service. Get a beer or make yourself a pain killer. Just write your boat name in the “log” along with what you served yourself. Dinner and the gift shop works the same way. At the end of the night you settle up. Its basically the honor system. As far as I can tell, everyone that comes and goes makes it work. Its not Foxy’s. You will not meet 500 tourists here. Maybe 4 boats worth. For those unacquainted with Sydney’s, pretend to the be the bartender.
Last summer, I went back to one of my favorites, on Jost. It was different. A younger generation had taken over. They cleaned out part of the mismatched junk, that made it unique and offered a more sanitized, but much less
desirable view of the beach and ocean. The music was now played much too loud. The staff, while never what one would call attentive, paid no attention at all to serving a customer. What once was my favorite place, with sandy floors and clearly no architectural standards, had become my least. This was progress for someone, but not me.
This week, I feared that same thing might occur to another of my favorites: Pirates Cove Marina in Alabama. My wife and I had decided at the last minute to go down to the
“Cove”. While we had planned to go for some time, the weather wasn’t the best. But under the assumption that you miss out on all the best things if you don’t go, we took off. When we walked through the doors, it was getting near 3pm on a Thursday. One step in, and 3 people sitting at the bar turned to us. There was instant recognition,
even after a 2 year separation. Shouts went up and we were greeted with hugs and drinks and more hugs. This place has changed some physically. But the nature of it stayed the same.
Now some will read this and find themselves in Pirate’s Cove. They will order a drink, a Bushwacker, and it will be great. They may order a pizza. Sure its good, but likely not the best they have ever had (Because that’s Reginelli’s in NOLA). Its at this point that they lose out on what PC has to offer. They make a judgement, finish what they ordered and leave. Or. They let the experience wash over them. Have another drink. Relax. Start talking to your new friends that work there. Relax more deeply still. Let them know you and you get to know them. Maybe Dean and Chelsea will feel that you should hear about their Kayaking adventures. Possibly, if she thinks you a good enough person Sarah will let you witness her fiery hoop of death. Absorb the history from the signed sail cloth on the ceiling with dates back into the sixties; add yourself to it, if you can find a spot. Pet the dog laying at your feet, give him a pizza crust.
Places like these are ultimately why I want to cruise. I know there are more places like them else where and I want to stumble into them and maybe out. I enjoy living in them to know the people there and then ease out to find another. Maybe you will read this and leave me a note with your favorite. Maybe I will run into you there; where we can be woven into the lore spun about it.