The Loch Ness Monster spent the winter in Key West a couple of years ago.

Actually, a lot of celebrities have wintered on the subtropical island where daytime temps in January and February generally exceed 70 degrees.

New York artist Cameron Gainer settles the Loch Ness Monster into its winter home in a Key West pond at the beginning of the 2008 Sculpture Key West exhibition. (Photo by Rob O'Neal/Florida Keys News Bureau)

Robert Frost, for one — the renowned poet abandoned New England for a cottage on Key West’s Caroline Street each winter from 1945 to 1960.

But until a couple of years ago, though Key Westers had seen plenty of snowbirds flocking to the southernmost city to escape the northern cold, they’d never seen anything like the Loch Ness Monster.

Nessie journeyed south on a boat trailer with New York artist Cameron Gainer, who was participating in the 2008 Sculpture Key West exhibition. The annual juried exhibition features work in many types of traditional and experimental media, displayed beside the island’s Civil War-era forts and public gardens — and in several other “surprise” locations around Key West.

Nessie, who turned out to be quite a surprise indeed, was destined for a winter home in a local pond at the entrance to Key West’s picturesque Old Town. But installing the 12-foot by 12.5-foot foam-and-fiberglass monster in the pond was no easy task.

Nessie isn't the only sculpted creature to visit Key West during the annual Sculpture Key West display. Here, artist Doug Makemson introduces "Henry," a nine-foot steel dog that starred in a previous exhibition. (Photo courtesy of Sculpture Key West)

Cameron was inspired to create Nessie by a 1934 photo that supposedly showed its humped back and long curving neck rising out of Scotland’s Loch Ness. To settle the monster in its warm-water winter home, he donned a wetsuit and jumped into the pond to guide the installation.

A Bobcat tractor, a small floating platform and a thick rope “leash” were required in the effort, which drew double-takes and laughter from passing drivers.

For the rest of that winter, much to the delight of absurdity-loving locals, Nessie startled unsuspecting passersby as they entered the historic Old Town district.

The 2010 Sculpture Key West exhibition doesn’t feature any legendary monsters — but that’s perfectly okay, because it includes plenty of other intriguing examples of artistry.

A sailboat is framed by the wood sculpture "Forest of Souls" on display at Sculpture Key West 2010. The wooden hoop by artist Jonathan Schork is composed of buttonwood, Brazilian pepper and Australian pine branches. (Photo by Rob O'Neal/Florida Keys News Bureau)

Thirty-some artists hailing from Paris, Berlin and 11 American states are showcasing their work in three venues at this year’s exhibition: the waterfront grounds of Fort Zachary Taylor Historic State Park, the tranquil and inspiring home of the Key West Garden Club at West Martello Tower, and the Key West Tropical Forest & Botanical Garden near the entrance to Key West.

Favorite sculptures include an 18-foot-tall wooden hoop-shaped memorial, a commentary on consumerism crafted out of recycled plastic bags, and an interactive “musical chairs” installation made (believe it or not) from discarded brass instruments that people can actually play.

At all three locations, the sculptures will remain on display through April 16.

Take a tip from a longtime Keys local who’s seen many previous Sculpture Key West exhibitions — Nessie might not be lurking around, but even so this is a “monstrously” good show. If you’re in the Keys, don’t miss it!

Topics: Animal Ambassadors, Arts, Festivals, Florida Keys, Key West, Keys Quirks, Local Color

There are bars in Key West that open and close in a season, with no one realizing they’ve been there at all. And there are bars that almost effortlessly make a place for themselves in island history, that live on in the collective memory forever, their characteristics affectionately exaggerated with the years. The Full Moon Saloon was a bar of the latter sort.

Sid Snelgrove (left) and Vic Latham were the guiding spirits behind the legendary Full Moon. (Photo by Richard Watherwax)

The Full Moon opened its doors to the rowdy, raucous Key West of the late 1970s, and it could never have succeeded without owners Vic Latham and Sid Snelgrove. Big men with lived-in faces, they dispensed drinks and careless hospitality while carefully asking no questions of their patrons. Although they were joined by other managers in time, and even other partners, Vic and Sid were the Moon’s guiding force.

Key West in the late 70s and early 80s was a magnet for adventurers of all sorts — whether they were transporting dubious substances, heading for Afghanistan in search of a story for “Esquire,” or seeking the treasure of the Spanish Main. As the Moon’s popularity grew, its freewheeling atmosphere made it a natural gathering place for people in such irregular professions.

Ultimately, the Full Moon Saloon came to exemplify a wry, raffish, outlaw era in Key West. Over the years, it was mentioned in more than 20 novels and the pages of “Playboy,” “Esquire,” “Mad Magazine,” “Rolling Stone,” “People” and “National Lampoon.” Its patrons included gonzo journalist Hunter Thompson, poet Jim Harrison, “pirate laureate” Jimmy Buffett, and novelists Bob Stone and John Leslie and Phil Caputo.

In my mind, the Full Moon Saloon will always be associated with Phil Clark. He introduced me to the place half a lifetime ago, when I was a shy 22-year-old naive in the ways of the world. A larger-than-life character who had then been on the island for more than a decade, he not only imbibed and socialized at the bar, but also used its convenient pay phone for low-voiced conversations about questionable enterprises.

Phil Clark, whose life inspired Jimmy Buffett's "A Pirate Looks at Forty," was a regular patron of the Full Moon Saloon. (Photo © 2009 Tom Corcoran from the book “Jimmy Buffett — the Key West Years”)

Immortalized by Buffett in “A Pirate Looks at Forty,” Phil was one of the daring Keys renegades who always seemed on the brink of metamorphosing into a living legend. Seeking adventure, he had tried almost every hazardous occupation known to man — from mercenary soldier to gentleman smuggler to New York City advertising executive. The last, it must be said, gave him the largest twinges of conscience.

He and his cohorts drank at the Moon, argued about philosophy at the Moon, held uproarious birthday parties at the Moon and even, on occasion, dozed off at the big horseshoe-shaped bar.

Years later, when Phil died in Sausalito, donations from the Moon paid for his cremation and brought his ashes home. That’s the kind of place it was.

Like most denizens of the island’s old days, the Moon weathered many changes: moving from its original United Street home to new quarters on Simonton Street, finding its niche in a suddenly chic Key West, struggling to become a “serious” business. Nevertheless, when the 70s scammers evolved into the slightly bewildered survivors of the 90s, the Moon was still the place they went for a generous drink, a well-cooked meal, and a chance to ponder the legacy of their lives.

"Roy's Dead Now," painted by Key West artist Martin Laessig, hung in a place of honor at the Full Moon Saloon.

Yet in July of 1993, the Moon abruptly closed its doors. Sadly, Vic went to Chicago. Sid went to Costa Rica and other faraway locales. The long-time customers scattered.

Tax troubles, some said, led to the Moon’s demise. Others blamed the inexorable march of progress, or the zealous federales who had put much of its regular clientele behind bars of a different sort.

Although the property’s later leaseholders tried to capitalize on the Full Moon’s popularity by opening the “New Moon,” the attempt (predictably) was a failure.

Today, the Moon’s former building on Simonton Street sports pink awnings (!) and houses a wonderful restaurant called Camille’s. All outward traces of the bar are gone.

But that doesn’t matter at all. The essence of the Full Moon Saloon, like the essence of the era that spawned it, remains alive in all of us who were lucky enough to be part of it.

Topics: Highlights, Key West, Keys History, Keys Quirks, Local Color

Dorothy, you’re not in Kansas anymore.

While most visitors to Key West catch on to that fact fairly quickly, the island city’s New Year’s Eve celebration should provide definitive proof for anyone still in doubt.

Sushi, a.k.a. Key West resident Gary Marion, stars in the "drag queen drop" that welcomes the New Year in Key West. (Photos by Andy Newman/Florida Keys News Bureau)

Granted, the festivities include a ruby slipper. But instead of adorning Dorothy’s dainty foot, the sparkling shoe is a supersized power pump — and it serves as a chariot for legendary drag queen Sushi.

For more than 10 consecutive years Sushi, otherwise known as Key West resident Gary Marion, has starred in the New Year’s Eve festivities at the Bourbon Street Pub/New Orleans House complex at 724 Duval St. — while perched in a gigantic red high heel suspended high above the street.

This year will be no exception. Seconds before midnight on Dec. 31, the shoe bearing the lavishly gowned and coiffed Sushi will be lowered from the second-story balcony of the complex toward thousands of cheering spectators below.

Sushi reaches the end of her descent to Duval Street during the revelry welcoming 2009.

As midnight strikes and 2010 officially begins, she will land and pop the cork on a ceremonial bottle of champagne.

Even if you can’t make it to Key West this year for America’s southernmost New Year’s Eve celebration, you can still share in Sushi’s “shoe-nanigans” through the magic of cable TV.

In what has become a tradition over the past seven years, CNN plans to be in Key West with correspondent John Zarrella as a facet of the network’s live New Year’s Eve coverage hosted by Anderson Cooper and Kathy Griffin.

While Sushi presides over the revelry from her “throne” in the second-story shoe, the unflappable John Zarrella, a favorite of Key West audiences, will offer street-level commentary.

Appearances on CNN are just one high-profile outlet for the multitalented Sushi. She’s also the leader of an acclaimed troupe of drag performers called the 801 Girls who strut their stuff at the 801 Bourbon Bar on Duval. A skilled costume designer, she’s even been prominently featured in a book titled “Drag Queens at the 801 Cabaret.”

CNN correspondent John Zarrella provides live on-air commentary each year from the Key West festivities.

But it’s her role as a New Year’s Eve icon that has earned Sushi the most widespread fame. For starring in the island city’s “drag queen drop” — an offbeat take-off on New York City’s traditional New Year’s Eve ball drop in Times Square — she has even been mentioned in the “New York Times.”

“I never thought, growing up, that I’d be on television in a giant red heel,” confessed Sushi. “That’s not something that a young kid aspires to. But I’m so thankful that we live in a country that lets us do whatever we want to do as long as we don’t hurt anybody else.”

Topics: Events, Florida Keys, Highlights, Key West, Keys Quirks, Local Color

Crazy as it sounds, the Weather Channel is forecasting snow in the near-tropical Florida Keys on Christmas Day.

Weather Channel meteorologist Adam Berg (right) surprises Lower Keys resident Howard Livingston with the news that his family won the network's "Guaranteed White Christmas" contest.

Specifically, though snow has never been recorded in the island chain, they’re forecasting it at the Lower Keys home of musician Howard Livingston — winner of the network’s nationwide “Guaranteed White Christmas” contest.

For Howard’s grand prize, The Weather Channel plans to orchestrate a massive manmade snowfall at his home overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Meteorologist Adam Berg will be on hand to broadcast live coverage of the unprecedented “snow event” between 8 a.m. and 2 p.m. Christmas Day. It’s likely he’ll be broadcasting from the Lower Keys on Christmas Eve as well.

Michael Walker, Howard's grandson, starred in the family's video entry that earned them an unprecedented snowfall in the balmy Lower Keys.

“I didn’t think we had a chance, because I didn’t think they could possibly make snow when it’s 80 degrees,” said Howard, who shares his home with his wife of two months, Cyndy, and their two dogs.

He found out differently when Adam and a Weather Channel crew flew in Dec. 13 to deliver the good news in person.

“When Adam Berg showed up, our jaws dropped because we recognized him,” he admitted. “I was flabbergasted.”

Howard was chosen from hundreds of contest entrants who submitted brief videos explaining why their families deserved a white Christmas. His 60-second piece shows the touring/recording musician and songwriter in his sunny waterfront yard, trying to make snow for his six-year-old grandson Michael Walker in a quirky blender powered by a 1952 Johnson outboard motor.

Using an offbeat blender/boat motor, Howard attempts to blend snow for his grandson Michael in the LIvingstons' winning video entry.

According to a Weather Channel spokesperson, on Christmas Howard’s yard will be blanketed by tons of snow created from shaved ice by a snowmaking and special effects company.

The white stuff is designed to be “packable,” making it ideal for shaping snowballs and snowmen (much to the delight of Michael, who has already figured out the accessories he needs to construct the perfect snowman).

Before learning about their surprise contest victory, the Livingstons were planning a family Christmas with Michael, Howard’s daughter and Michael’s mother Amanda Walker, her partner Tyler Hanson and their 11-month-old daughter Courtney Hanson, who live nearby.

Wearing Santa hats in anticipation of their white Christmas, the Livingston family awaits the first flakes in their sunny oceanfront yard.

“We generally spend Christmas at home with Michael, open gifts in the morning and cook some lobster on the grill,” said Howard.

Grinning broadly, he added, “We’re going to do the same thing this year, but with snow.”

The happy contest winner — whose infectious tropical rock tunes with his Mile Marker 24 Band include “Blame It On the Margaritas” and, coincidentally, “Local On the Eights” about The Weather Channel’s local forecast segments — also intends to fire up the offbeat blender/boat motor featured in his video entry.

On Christmas, however, Howard won’t need to employ the blender for making snow. Instead, just as he does onstage when he performs with Mile Marker 24, he’ll use it to blend margaritas for new and old friends.

Topics: Big Pine Key & Lower Keys, Events, Florida Keys, Highlights, Keys Quirks, Local Color

(Editor’s Note: Larry Kahn, author of this week’s column, is the editor of the “Keynoter” newspaper and occasionally fishes off the Florida Keys.)

Why?

What gives you the right to tease me with your bait while I am offshore of the Florida Keys, minding my own business, feeding on a flying fish or two?

Guest blogger Larry "The Fish" and a pelagic pal share a face-to-face session pondering some big questions. (Photo by Andy Newman)

Who vested you with the right to troll with the sole aim of killing me so I can wind up on your grill, in your pan or deep inside your smoker, marinated with a nice touch of Key lime juice?

Who among you decided you could play God, reeling and reeling while I run and run until I can run no more?

Speaking for the fish, it is a bummer. And I can speak for my pelagic friends, because I live among them.

At least, once a year I do … during the annual Ladies, Let’s Go Fishing! seminar.

It’s called the no-yellin’ school of fishing for women, and includes intensive instruction on how to rig baits, tie knots, gaff fish and even dock a boat. It also showcases the proper technique to reel in a fish.

Portraying The Fish, Larry demonstrates finny fitness for Ladies, Let's Go Fishing students. (Photo courtesy of Ladies, Let's Go Fishing!)

Which is where I come in.

I am the tuna. The dolphin (i.e. mahi-mahi).

I am The Fish.

For the past two years, I’ve been put in a pool at the Holiday Isle Resort with a line attached to a belt around my waist.

It’s pretty simple. The women reel; I try to swim away from them. It teaches them not to allow slack line, to follow the fish as it moves in the water — and, ultimately, to wear out the fish.

Unfortunately for me, they learn well. And I learn what a fish goes through.

It starts out so innocently. Seminar founder Betty Bauman and her 60 students gather around the pool to practice the basics of reeling in a fish. While this is happening, they attach the line to my belt and I get in the water with flippers on.

Betty tries to reel me in. I swim to the other end of the pool, but not so easily. Swimming against her pressure is like being a salmon trying to swim upstream. Wait — they do that. I can’t.

The Ladies, Let's Go Fishing gang relaxes with the "catch of the day." (Photo courtesy of Ladies, Let's Go Fishing!)

After less than two minutes fighting that line, with 60 women watching and learning, I’m so worn out that I’m looking for a paramedic.

In just 10 minutes of being The Fish, I discover a newfound respect for the real fish that can fight for hours before being boated.

I am the lucky one that got away. To my finny friends less fortunate, I say only this: “Grill tastefully, my brothers. Grill tastefully.”

Topics: Animal Ambassadors, Florida Keys, Islamorada, Keys Quirks, Local Color, On the Water

Not long ago, Penn Alexander realized the balance of nature in his Old Town Key West neighborhood was definitely out of whack.

Armando Parra, left, formerly the official chicken catcher of Key West, shows an indigenous fowl to Penn Alexander and a lovely "chick." (Photo by Andy Newman/Florida Keys News Bureau)

One evening, when he was listening to a vintage Eagles CD in his hundred-year-old cottage, Penn glanced down at the plastic cat crate that housed a wounded Key West chicken he’d rescued from a marauding hawk. There on top of the crate snoozed his large gold tabby cat, clearly uninterested in the feathered inhabitant and what should have been their predator/prey relationship.

In Key West, however, most relationships involving chickens transcend traditional boundaries. The island’s indigenous poultry, probably descended from roosters bred generations ago for cockfights and hens kept for eggs, roams historic Old Town at will. Private cars and taxis stop to let chickens and their babies cross the road, visitors coo and cluck as they snap photos of the meandering fowl, and roosters can be heard crowing not just at dawn, but whenever they feel like it.

While most Key Westers accept the chickens as part of the egg-ccentric island they love — and some, like Penn, feed or shelter them — a few anti-poultry proponents claim the population is too noisy and growing too fast.

Joe Liszka, one of the Key Westers who hatched ChickenFest, appears at a city meeting with a feathered friend. (Photo by Andy Newman/Florida Keys News Bureau)

In fact, in 2004 city officials hired a chicken catcher to round up and relocate almost half of the city’s estimated 2,000 birds to a mainland farm. Armando Parra, a third-generation island resident, barber and amateur ornithologist, caught eight chickens in humane traps during his first day on the job — but his new career was thwarted by the efforts of poultry lovers, who freed trapped fowl at every opportunity.

The resultant commotion led to (I am not kidding here) a four-day festival that was quickly dubbed ChickenFest — hatched by some local event coordinators to give chicken lovers something to crow about.

Fowl fanciers flocked to participate, dressing in full-body yellow chicken suits and feathered headdresses, covering their noses with vinyl rooster beaks and donning red and yellow plush chicken-head caps.

“The Original Chickens,” the brainchild of a Key West accountant, cavort during the “Fowl Follies” costume competition that took place during ChickenFest Key West. (Photo by Mike Hollar/Florida Keys News Bureau)

The highlight was a Poultry in Motion Parade that featured 10-foot-tall dancing chickens, a Colonel Sanders look-alike, a flock of renegade roosters staging a “coop d’etat” against hapless humans, and a 12-foot “Chicken Caesar” — a toga-wearing rooster reclining on a chariot-drawn chaise and waving a regal wing to parade spectators. In the face of that kind of support, the poultry population’s “hard-boiled” detractors didn’t stand a chance.

Today, although ChickenFest is no longer held, chickens rule the roost in Key West. The island’s hens and roosters have become the subject of oil paintings and watercolors, giant sculptures in neighborhood parks and locally published children’s books.

If you’re seeking chicken companionship during a visit to the island, stop by Key West’s funky Blue Heaven, a renowned eatery whose fans include famed singer/songwriter Jimmy Buffett.

Blue Heaven’s  “breakfast with the roosters,” served in an outdoor courtyard where resident hens and chicks wander freely, features items ranging from lobster and shrimp benedicts to sinfully good homemade pancakes and banana bread.

Or, if you know Penn Alexander, just head over to his place. The little hen he rescued, now named Henrietta, has become a pet whose daily treat is a smidgen of cat food filched from Penn’s orange tabby.

The cat doesn’t seem to mind a bit.

Topics: Animal Ambassadors, Events, Festivals, Key West, Keys Quirks, Local Color

“Balloon Dog” has landed at Key West’s Fantasy Fest 10-day masking and costuming festival, offering a zany canine counterpoint to the alleged “Balloon Boy” hoax that recently drew worldwide attention.

Jim Brooks checks the so-called weather balloon affixed to his "Balloon Dog," Brutus, at Key West's Fantasy Fest Pet Masquerade. (Photos by Rob O'Neal, Florida Keys News Bureau)

The appearance of “Balloon Dog,” however, was the real thing. Lower Keys resident Jim Brooks attached a pseudo weather balloon to a harness worn by his English bulldog, Brutus, to compete in the Fantasy Fest Pet Masquerade. His inspiration, of course, was the much-publicized saga of the Colorado boy supposedly carried away by a homemade weather balloon that took off after he climbed inside it.

“I imagined, over a couple of beverages, what would happen if my dog did that,” said Jim.

Perhaps fortunately for his credibility, Jim didn’t specify the type of beverage that led to his imaginings. He did, however, outline some of the logistical challenges he faced in creating the costume.

According to Jim, he originally envisioned Brutus actually floating in midair beneath a helium balloon — but Internet research revealed that lifting the 65-pound dog would necessitate a surprisingly large supply of helium.

“It was going to require a 21-foot-diameter weather balloon, and the National Weather Service wouldn’t let me borrow one,” Jim said.

It's hard to tell who looks more alien here -- but clearly, this duo dropped in from its home planet to participate in the Pet Masquerade.

Jim and “Balloon Dog” weren’t the only offbeat competitors that paraded across the Pet Masquerade stage. The contest for “party animals” drew more than 80 entries starring costumed dogs, cats, tropical birds and unusual pets such as two African tortoises dressed as members of the fictional “Addams Family.” (Honestly, I’m not making this up. The tortoises, whose names are Topsy and Toast, and their two human companions won — and deserved — the masquerade’s grand prize.)

Other crowd favorites included a tiny canine dressed as a popular sandwich chain’s trademark “$5 foot-long,” a “peacock dog” that shook its exotic tail feathers at spectators, and a man who donned blue and yellow feather boas to impersonate the blue-and-gold macaw he carried.

Which one is the REAL blue-and-gold macaw? Jim Cozzi and his bird Bob sport lookalike blue and yellow feathers.

An entry dubbed “Mary Had a Little Lamb” featured a woman named Mary, who wore a sexy shepherdess dress, leading two big dogs costumed as lambs. During her stint onstage, Mary said she thought wearing the costumes was making her dogs feel (yes, you know what’s coming) a little sheepish.

How creative and quirky were this year’s Pet Masquerade competitors? Well, the bearded dragon that “rode” around the stage perched on a self-propelled toy Harley did NOT win the top prize for being the most exotic entry.

Actually, neither did “Balloon Dog.” But that’s okay, because he was the darling of the film crews shooting the animal antics. Like the Colorado family that inspired his costume, Brutus is pretty sure to show up on television screens all across America.

Topics: Animal Ambassadors, Events, Festivals, Highlights, Key West, Keys Quirks, Local Color

In 1979, October in Key West meant the dog days of a late subtropical summer. Many streets were so empty that dogs could actually be spotted dozing on the asphalt.

Happy birthday, Fantasy Fest! Key West doesn't "clown around" when it comes to producing its flamboyant annual festival and spectacular grand parade. (Photo by Andy Newman/Florida Keys News Bureau)

But a group of local merchants changed that when they conceived a novel way to mark Halloween, a favorite island holiday that residents celebrated with uninhibited flair: a Halloween festival they dubbed Fantasy Fest.

Their 1979 event was a two-day party and a parade — featuring a local woman who draped her nude metallic-painted body across the hood of a Lincoln Continental and proclaimed herself its hood ornament.

After that auspicious beginning, the festival became an annual extravaganza known as the perfect place to “let it all hang out.” Organizers promoted it nationwide, and visitors began flocking to Key West each October.

Eventually it grew to 10 days. National and international media — including television weatherman Willard Scott — lauded its often risqué costume competitions, lavish masquerade balls and grand parade that featured fabulous floats and marching groups in bright-colored finery.

A past Fantasy Fest costume contest and parade featured a wacky flock of (wait for it) poultry in motion. (Photo by Andy Newman/Florida Keys News Bureau)

In the mid-1990s Willard made an on-air statement that locals still remember. Displaying an elaborate feathered Fantasy Fest mask live on “The Today Show,” he enthusiastically blurted, “And in Key West this week, they’re having their annual Fanny Fest.”

Whatever you call it, the festival marks its 30th birthday this year — and most Key West residents can recall an offbeat Fantasy Fest incident or two. Like the time a local celebrity and his entourage appeared in costumes satirizing then-president Bill Clinton’s Monica-mania. Or the night a “spaceman” had dire technical difficulties with his flying saucer outside Sloppy Joe’s Bar. Or the year half-naked “headhunters” invaded Duval Street.

Yet despite its outrageous flavor, Fantasy Fest also has a more serious side as a reflection of current events.

What do you get when you combine a blue dress, a cigar and a president who shall remain nameless? A fantastic entry in the Fantasy Fest parade! (Photo by Andy Newman/Florida Keys News Bureau)

In 1998, for example, a few weeks after Hurricane Georges swept through the Lower Keys, the festival went on as planned — offering triumphant proof that no storm could dampen the Keys’ resilience or creativity. The parade honored U.S. 1 Radio for staying on the air throughout the hurricane to offer Keys-wide updates and comfort.

One float featured the station’s generator, nicknamed “Zippy” because it powered the broadcasts during the storm-induced electrical blackout. Parade spectators saluted the valiant little generator with nonstop applause and laughter.

Perhaps the most poignant moment in Fantasy Fest history came in 2001. Just weeks after the Sept. 11 attacks, the festival gave eight exhausted, grieving New York City firefighters a chance to relax and smile.

The FDNY firefighters were rightfully hailed as heroes during the 2001 Fantasy Fest parade. Rob Carlo (center) held up his late brother's photo as they marched. (Photo by Andy Newman/Florida Keys News Bureau)

Months before, firefighters Michael Carlo and his brother Rob, teammates on the 10-member FDNY volleyball team, had decided to march in the year’s Fantasy Fest parade. But their plans — and their lives — were shattered when the World Trade Center collapsed.

Mike Carlo died in the rubble, as did volleyball team member Tim Welty. The remaining eight teammates, though devastated by their loss, put in heartbreaking days and weeks working at the site that came to be known as Ground Zero.

But the night of the 2001 Fantasy Fest parade, dressed in red, white and blue T-shirts bearing Mike and Tim’s names, they marched the length of the parade route in memory of their lost brothers.

Whether honoring heroes or saluting creative costumes and floats, Fantasy Fest has earned its place as Key West's premier annual festival. (Photo by Andy Newman/Florida Keys News Bureau)

Rob carried Mike’s photograph, while a teammate waved a sign that read, “FDNY — Still the Greatest Job on Earth.” An estimated 50,000 spectators cheered, blinked back tears, and chanted “USA! USA!” as the firefighters passed by.

The 30th annual Fantasy Fest begins Oct. 23 and runs through Nov. 1, with the parade set for Halloween night. Whether you’ve never attended or are a veteran fest-goer, this is the year to join Key Westers in celebrating the festival’s colorful history … and anticipating the next 30 years.

Topics: Events, Festivals, Highlights, Key West, Keys History, Keys Quirks, Local Color

It’s not easy to costume a cat. Particularly when the cat is a 20-pound male Norwegian Forest Cat named Alex, who’s very conscious of his dignity, and the costume is a tasteful silk dress and a rope of pearls.

Clearly, Alex is not yet comfortable in his Pet Masquerade attire.

Getting him used to his finery is likely to be a lengthy process involving hisses, claws and curses (both human and feline), but I’m determined to prevail. And I’m not alone in this odd purr-suit.

All over the Florida Keys, otherwise sane people are constructing costumes for their cats, dogs, ferrets, potbellied pigs, ducks and heaven knows what other domestic species. The people are absolutely serious about this enterprise, though most of the animals are as uneasy as Alex.

What’s behind this strange phenomenon? A costume competition for critters, known as the WKEYZ Pet Masquerade and Parade, which is a highlight of Key West’s 10-day Fantasy Fest masking and costuming celebration that’s held each October.

The animal antics take place on an oceanfront stage at Key West’s historic Casa Marina Resort & Beach Club. And believe me, the fur really flies when several dozen costumed pets and their people strut their stuff in front of a few thousand enthusiastic spectators.

Past Pet Masquerade entries have ranged from the simple to the extraordinarily intricate ... like this one involving a very patient dog. (Photo by Andy Newman/Florida Keys News Bureau)

Entries usually range from simple pet-and-person duos to multi-member animal-and-human ensembles attempting to perform musical numbers. A panel of bemused judges awards prizes in categories including most exotic attire and pet-owner look-alikes.

Among the more bizarre past entries have been a flock of giant “chicken people” who cavorted onstage with a dog named Weasel to the strains of the “Super Chicken” cartoon theme song, a duck lounging in a bathtub on wheels, a team of miniature dachshunds pulling a miniature covered wagon, a parakeet riding in a tiny remote-controlled car, and a musical salute to Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds” featuring a blonde-wigged Borzoi hound costumed as “Birds” actress Tippi Hedren.

The Borzoi was a regular Pet Masquerade contender whose human companion, Madeleine Burnside, delighted in staging complex song-and-dance routines featuring the dog and a multi-person entourage.

One year, Key West mortgage banker David Koontz was a member of that entourage. For reasons known only to Madeleine, the costume she chose for him included a large cutlass and purple body paint applied liberally to his skin and hair.

Kelsey Morris and her duck Prissy shared "top billing" in a past Pet Masquerade. (Photo by Andy Newman/Florida Keys News Bureau)

Unfortunately, she neglected to tell him the body paint didn’t wash off very well. The day after Pet Masquerade, David flew to New York City to attend a high-level national mortgage bankers’ conference — where he spent most of his time explaining why his skin and hair had a distinct purple hue.

With 2009’s Pet Masquerade set for Oct. 28, Florida Keys pet lovers are stitching sequins and feathers onto costumes, reluctant animals are fleeing from fittings, and David Koontz is avoiding both body paint and Borzois.

As for me, I’m still trying to convince Alex the Norwegian Forest Cat that he looks terrific in a silk dress and pearls.

Topics: Animal Ambassadors, Events, Festivals, Highlights, Key West, Keys Quirks, Local Color

If you want to be mistaken for a Florida Keys resident — or at least an island-savvy regular visitor — don’t ever say “kontch.” The word “conch” is pronounced “konk,” like a conk on the head (which is what you deserve if you persist in using the wrong pronunciation).

The fluted, pink-lined conch shell was used by early Keys seafarers (usually older than the crew pictured here!) as a signaling device.

For those of you who haven’t encountered it before, a conch is a mollusk (sometimes known as a sea snail). That might not sound too appetizing, but actually conch meat is served and savored in at least half the restaurants from Key Largo to Key West.

It tastes a bit like abalone, and you can find it in creamy white or tomato-based chowder, chewy deep-fried fritters served with cocktail sauce or mustard sauce, and even breaded and fried as conch steak. No two restaurants prepare it quite the same way — which means you can have a great time sampling conch in many different eateries, comparing tastes and cooking techniques.

As well as eating conch, early Keys residents used its fluted pink-lined shell as a horn for long-distance signaling. And according to legend, they came to admire the mollusk’s tough, hardy nature so much that they adopted its name for themselves.

Many things in the Keys bear the name "Conch." Here, NBC "Today" weatherman Al Roker, left, rides the Conch Tour Train during a live broadcast from the island chain. (Photo by Andy Newman/Florida Keys News Bureau)

Today, conch is no longer fished in the Keys, but the word “conch” refers to someone born in the island chain — which is affectionately known as the Conch Republic.

How did that name come about? Like many other things in the Keys, it’s a long story. It involves loaves of stale Cuban bread, a governmental border checkpoint, a request for $1 billion in foreign aid, and the Florida Keys’ 1982 secession from the United States.

The story began when a U.S. Border Patrol checkpoint was set up without warning in Florida City, at the head of the Keys, ostensibly so agents could search cars for drugs and illegal aliens. The roadblock created a traffic jam miles long on U.S. 1, the only road that connects the island chain to mainland Florida, for vehicles leaving the Keys.

The massive traffic delays threatened to derail the fledgling tourism industry and made locals furious. The border patrol checkpoint, they figured, meant the government was treating their beloved Keys like a foreign country. With impeccable logic, they decided the island chain should BECOME a foreign country.

In 1982, hundreds gathered to watch the historic secession ceremony and birth of the independent Conch Republic.

On April 23, 1982, in front of an enthusiastic crowd at Key West’s Mallory Square, a hardy group of patriots proclaimed the Keys the independent Conch Republic and hoisted a flag bearing a large conch shell on a field of blue. They declared war on the United States by ceremoniously bopping a U.S. Navy sailor on the head with a loaf of stale Cuban bread, surrendered 60 seconds later and demanded $1 billion in foreign aid.

The story of the secession captured international attention, and the imaginations of thousands of people who flocked to visit the new country. During the excitement caused by the birth of a nation, the Border Patrol checkpoint quietly vanished, never to reappear.

NBC "Today" weatherman Al Roker, left, shows a Conch Republic flag during a special broadcast with anchor Matt Lauer, right, from the fabled republic. (Photo by Andy Newman/Florida Keys News Bureau)

Loyal citizens are still waiting for the foreign aid (no surprise there). But that hasn’t dampened the spirit of the republic, whose motto is “we seceded where others failed.” Conch Republic passports and royal blue flags are as popular today as they were in 1982, and ambassadorships are highly prized.

If you can’t visit the island nation any time soon — or, if you want to learn more about it while planning a tropical trek — check out www.conchrepublic.com. And when you do arrive, remember one vital rule: don’t ever call it the “Kontch” Republic.

Topics: Florida Keys, Highlights, Keys History, Keys Quirks, Local Color