Langerado!

Well, we again ventured into the swamplands of South Florida for the four-day musical extravaganze known as Langerado. We loaded up the shaggin' wagon -- a.k.a. 1984 Ford Econoline Clubwagon Van -- with our family of four, add one child -- Morgan, a friend of the kids -- and three more adults: Amy, Alisha and Randall.

After getting lost somewhere in the middle of the Mickosukee Indian Reservation, finding a little gator hole place called Debby's Crab Shack to refuel, losing our tickets and almost our wits, we set up camp. Randall and Alisha ran off to catch the Wailers while I stood in line at will call to get replacement tickets to cover the ones we lost, which we can only presume flew out the window at some point near Debby's Crab Shack.

The first night of shows, after we set up camp (including three tents and an awning at the back of the van) reminded us of why we do this time and time again. The first night of torrential rain reminded us of why we put up rain guards on our tents, which Alisha and Randall skipped. We found them in the back of the van in the morning. While we were drying out all of their stuff and engaging in a friendly game of bocce ball (that is SO fun -- we must get a set!) sheer winds started ripping through, lifting Randall and Alisha's tent up off the ground in tumbleweed fashion and just ripped the kids' tent up completely. There was no saving the kids shredded tent, which was some 1956 version of a tent we found in our camp stuff complete with aluminum poles (think very triangular, nothing bends) and a "Missouri Trails" logo on it. The kids would be the ones to inhabit the back of the van from then on, which was probably the sweetest spot in the camp since the sheer winds were followed by freezing weather. Well, freezing to us island dwellers anyway. It got down to like 48 or something.

The last day, while the kids were doing one of their infamous walks of shame (picking up trash all over the campsite because they were getting snippy and snooty and 10-year-old girls are pure evil), they got out of my eyeline, so I started walking after them. When I stopped to look around, I noticed I was standing on a mound of fire ants. Of course, it took me a minute because fire ants don't actually start biting until about half of them are up to your knees. Trying to not completely freak, I brushed them all off, yelled at the girls to hurry back to camp and trotted like a little pony back to our tarp. I doused my legs with cold, bottled water and instantly knew why they call them fire ants. It's not because it feels like fire when they bite, it's because when they're attacking your legs and climbing ever upward, you want to douse yourself in gasoline and light yourself on fire to get them off with a quickness. Now it appears they -- as a communal tribe throughout the world -- have spread the word within their little ant mounds, complete with Internet access I presume. I say this because that was the first time in my life I'd been bitten by a fire ant, much less dozens of them, and just this week AGAIN one bit me on the toe while I was at Claire's school. Maybe I taste like watermelon.

To see the complete lineup of audio treats at the fest, visit langerado.com. For me, the Beastie Boys was the absolute pinnacle since I've never seen them before AND they were as good as they were in the 80s; REM because I made it to the front row, albeit Amy and Alisha didn't beeline there with me and I saw the show solo; Built To Spill's performance of "Strange," my theme song; State Radio, a band I've never seen but shows great promise on the jam scene; Gov't Mule, which I think even the kids really enjoyed; and of course Phil Lesh and Friends, the grand finale. They whipped out an awesome "Dark Star," which was nice to lie down in the grass and watch the stars to mid-show, and ended with a supped up "Casey Jones," with an ever increasing rhythm that was trully indicative of "drivin' that train, high on cocaine." Phil's got himself a lineup that Jerry would be proud of, and, funny thing, the whole night seemed to be Jerry all the way.

Did I mention the glow puppet? Or Melon-head Dude? Or the guy who freaked out and left a smorgasboard of drugs at our camp site? The short bus? Painting the van? No? Well I guess you're going to have to find your own damn festival to understand. Look hard, you might see us there, too! We'll be the ones wrapped up like Jihads in Mexican blankets.

No I won't back down...

Macy, playing first base, faced opponents both fierce and mighty, but didn't take her eyes off of 'em no matter what.

Go SHARKS!

Macy played spring ball for the mighty SHARKS this year. Quite funny. Most of the kids were more content sitting in the red dirt and drawing in it with their fingers, but occasionally a group feeling of enthusiasm would take over and they would actually prove that they absorbed some of the fundamentals that Coach Jay and Coach Andy tried to teach them. Today was the closing ceremony for the season, all of them got photos and a trophy. But best of all, mom and dad don't have to be at the ball field at 9 a.m. on Saturdays anymore!

"Going Home"

By Ken Araujo

Key Deer photographed on Big Pine Key by Ken Araujo.

Key deer, an endangered species, used to roam the Keys (yes, they can swim) from Key West to Grassy Key, a 60-mile span. Now they only reside only on Big Pine and No Name keys. It's illegal to feed them, but people do it all the time. And I can't say I blame them. At full size they're about the size of a full grown dog.

Claire says, "Mmmmm... money."

The pizza's pretty good too. See "No Name Pub" below.

No Name Pub

We live at the very edge of Big Pine Key, just before a bridge connects it with No Name Key. (Isn't that a great name for an island?) Anyway, about a stone's throw from our house is the No Name Pub. A place deeply rooted in Keys history and a great place we ride our bikes to and get pizza. Read on...

In 1931, the pub started as a general store and bait and tackle shop.

In 1936, the owners added a small room on to the main structure which became an eatery. Thus the pub was born.

Early customers included people from all walks of life, including the local fishermen and world travelers who arrived from the mainland via ferry.

The late 1930s brought an interesting twist to No Name Pub history. In an effort to increase business, the upstairs storage room was converted into a brothel. Unfortunately, the venture failed after several years as the fisherman were reported to be better looking than the ladies.

The 1940s saw the end of the brothel and the burgeoning Keys tourism base began to increasingly discover the quirky, out-of-the-way place. The ladies would do their shopping in the general store as the men would browse the bait and tackle shop, then kick back and have a beer and sandwich.

During the 1950s the general store and bait and tackle shop closed and the pub became, well, just a pub. "No Name" was added to the already "Pub" and the landmark was born. The honky tonk atmosphere of beer drinking, pool shooting and great food became known from Miami to Key West and the place would get so smokey and crowded the customers would spill out into the backyard where dice, craps and card games would eventually break out. The old timers say the place never got raided because the sheriff ran the dice games.

There are a few stories that explain why every inch of wall and ceiling in teh place is covered with dollar bills.

One is that everyone who knows anything about commercial fishing knows its like any other job that relies on Mother Nature for abundance. Seems its either really good or really bad. So in times of abundance, the fishermen would tack a few dollars on the wall with their names written on them, so that when they were flat broke down the road, they could come in and be able to buy a beer or two.

The other is that the 1970s and 80s was the rowdy time in the Keys, when Jimmy Buffett's "Why don't we get drunk and screw" played on the juke box and the biggest source of revenue for many Keys residents was running drugs from the Caribbean. There was a lot of illegal money passing through the island chain and everyone loved to spend it. They had so much money they started hanging it on the walls.

Who knows, maybe one led to the other and both are true. Either way, local lore says the owners have estimated the amount of money on the walls at around $15,000.

Outside, our miniature deer can be seen munching on the foliage. (See the Key Deer photo on this site.)

The pub's slogan is "A nice place if you can find it," and if you can, well then, you can find us too!

Macy sneaks off with a scissors

And this is how Keith found her.

But Mom and Dad were HAPPY

And heard some rockin' good tunes. Even if Macy ended up with the best seat in the house the whole time and Keith came home with a very, very sore back. We were dirty, exhausted and broke when we got home. The true signs of a successful getaway.

But it wasn't all Sunshine Day Dream

An errant octopus balloon landed on us, which was fun for about two seconds -- then the fighting began. So Mr. Octopus made a quick exit, moving on to the next round of heads and hands.

AND we brought paints... (I did the red dots :)

"You don't want what he's handing out"

We saw the Capt. Good Time with his pink hair later on at the Widespread show handing out a tray of ... something. The girls perked up and Keith told them "no way" pretty quickly. Good thing we had smuggled in all those pop rocks.

Euro bungee backflip

Macy barely weighed enough to get higher than maybe five or six feet off the trampoline, but Claire managed to master backflips and everything. Heck, I would have tried it myself if I didn't think those few beers would have come back up!

Fun stuff for KIDS

Langerado's "Kiderado" included a Euro bungee and rock climbing wall. The kids wore out their wristbands on both.

Wood nymph

It wasn't the shining paradise of the Keys in Sunrise (West Broward, inland, Florida) but it did have it's natural charms.

Langerado

In early March, we finally made it the Langerado music festival in Sunrise. It was our firt "show with the kids." We all survived. There was a New Orleans-style kids parade, glow sticks aplenty, and of course, Widespread was the headliner. Perhaps one of the best moments was when Michael Franti and Spearhead busted into a reggae jam medley of "Sunny Days" -- you know, the Sesame Street theme. Everybody got down. Note to our fellow hippie friends with kids: Opt for the nearby hotel with continental breakfast and pool. Camping is fun, but I'm glad we were able to take showers and smuggle muffins back to the room for cartoons before heading off to the festival each day. I'm not sure any of the photos above need explanation, so enjoy! Oh yeah, to see the lineup and the highlights, visit www.langerado.com. We'd be happy to take you all with us next year!

Bolt

One of Keith's old constructin buddies from Columbia passed through while he was in Florida for the Daytona 500 and some other stuff. His name is Joe, but everyone calls him Bolt, a name his ex-Amish brethren gave him because he was known as being very bold to leave the community.

[insert your own caption here]

The nudey beach

There's some private waterfront land that the owner lets locals visit so long as they don't mind that it's pretty much known as the nudey beach. One night Keith and I decided to check it out at night on our way home and had fun taking silly pictures of each other. We kept our clothes on.

A poodle, of course

Sketch the Clown made a poodle, complete with leash, for Macy at the Terry Cassidy Pickin' Party on Big Pine Key.

One more...

Here's the "official" shot from the sunset cruise before all of the free champagne.

OK, OK, now the lovey dovey shot

With a big side of menace, that is! Well, the Champagne was free.

Boondocks Sunset Cruise

Keith's "red-headed step brother" Andy took a few pics of us on the way back from the cruise on the Caribbean Spirit. After the requisite lovey shot, Andy said "gimme love, gimme hate, gimme sexy, gimme happy, gimme said ... gimme ... WE GOT A BABYSITTER TONIGHT! And this ... is the resulting shot.

Keys car

Saw this down at the Key West harbor and had to take a pic. Not only does the license plate say GRIZWALD but there's a Deadhead sticker and one that says Just Married Chapel by the Sea.

The un-monkey

If I couldn't get a monkey, I would get one of these -- a tamarin. When the Monkey Jungle people weren't looking, I fed them through the cage: raisins and cranberries (you buy monkey food there at the park, which is boxes of dried fruit). They're like a cross between a squirril and a person.

Java Monkey

If I ever get a monkey, I'm getting one of these. They swim for their food. That way, when I live on a sailboat one day my monkey can dive for lobster for us. Wishful thinking, but hey, if you're going to live on a boat or even by the sea, why not get a swimmer monkey?

May and King

Two star attractions at Monkey Jungle, or, as Keith calls it, Junkie Mungle. Both May, the orangutan, and King, the gorilla, do fun tricks like dancing and sign language.

Monkey Jungle Birthday

Macy picked Monkey Jungle, just south of Miami, for her birthday venue. So we hit the Grassy Key flea market for boiled peanuts on the way there, went and saw the monkeys -- dad's shoulders offered the best viewing during the shows -- and then went to the Homestead Speedtrack for video games and go-carts. We also stopped by Wal-Mart (first time in three years; we don't have Wal-Marts in the Keys) for a new Little Mermaid bike. Fun was had by all.