I have fallen in love with the Florida Keys. I love everything about the islands, the climate, the history of the place, the people and the pace of living. I love the food and the culture.
Well, almost everything about the Islands.
During the trip, as I posted shit on Facebook about dive bars and drinking mimosas at ten am, several of my friends posted back with suggestions on bars and restaurants and attractions. My mom texted me suggestions from my former boss.
Everyone, it seems, has been to the Florida Keys before.
One would think, then, that maybe someone on my friends list would have mentioned the fucking chickens.
The first morning we woke in the hotel room, I heard a rooster crowing.
Well, that's cute, I thought. The resort has a rooster. After several moments of crowing, I searched the parking lot in vain for the little bastard as I stood on the balcony, determined to throw shit at it until it shut up.
I did not find the rooster.
I did find the guy that drives around and tickets people for not paying for their parking. I did not throw things at that guy.
At some point, walking out of the resort I saw the rooster, and it occurred to me, quite suddenly, that I fucking hate chickens. I didn't know, until that very moment, just how much I hate them.
Later in the trip, Husband and I decided to go on some Jet Ski tour around the islands. It was an hour and a half of shitty tasting water and rough waves. I'm sure the islands are beautiful from the sea, but I couldn't see shit with all the salt in my eyes... Not to mention? Should one ever decide to take that tour? Do not, I repeat, DO NOT shave your legs prior to jumping in the ocean.
You are welcome.
Anyhow... standing in line, waiting for the tour to begin, I saw the fucking rooster again. The tour place is right next to the hotel. So I assumed it was the chicken owned by the resort. I pointed it out to Art and maybe shivered a little as I realized that the rooster was following me.
Everywhere we went, the fucking rooster was there.
I was slightly paranoid about the damn thing. I was maybe googling bad omens in relation to roosters following people around.
Because of all of the people that had been to the Keys, out of everyone that gave me recommendations for food and fun, not a single fucking person mentioned the fact that there are wild fucking chickens wandering everywhere on the islands.
Apparently, they came with the influx of Cuban immigrants. As the tour guide said, while cock fighting was never actually legal on the islands, it was always allowed anyway. Until someone realized it was a pretty fucked up thing to be allowing and they banned it.
So the people with the chickens? Just fucking let them go. Just let them free to wander the islands, eating lizards and freaking out tourists. I wonder if maybe that was the intention... Fucking with tourists. I learned this after three full days of wondering if roosters following people was a sure sign of impending doom. Assholes.
They should maybe post that shit on the sign that says welcome to Key West.
The tour guide guy from the jet ski trip gave me the strangest look when I exclaimed to Art, "That fucking chicken again. Bro. It's following me. I think it wants to eat me or something..." He didn't exactly grin an evil grin and rub his hands together in glee, at least while I was looking, but he certainly didn't mention the fact that the island was full of fucking chickens.
Fucking with tourists?