These strange "undersea creatures" were spotted in the Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary during a past Underwater Music Festival. (Photos by Bill Keogh/Florida Keys News Bureau)

Unless, of course, it’s the second Saturday in July.

That’s the timeframe for the annual Lower Keys Underwater Music Festival, an engagingly weird event that draws as many as 600 divers and snorkelers to boogie to the beat of music beneath the waves.

Staged by a popular local radio station, the submerged songfest takes place at Looe Key Reef, an area of the Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary about six miles south of Big Pine Key.

The station’s playlist — ocean- and water-focused ditties ranging from the Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine” to humpback whale songs and the themes from “Gilligan’s Island” and “Titanic” — is broadcast to participating divers and snorkelers (and a whole lot of curious fish) on special speakers suspended beneath boats at the reef.

A few years back, divers and snorkelers at the Underwater Music Festival came across a patriotic parade -- on the ocean floor.

While you might think music would be distorted underwater, it’s actually surprisingly clear. Plus there’s an ethereal “surround sound” feeling that comes from the sound waves’ transmission through the water.

Adding to that ethereal quality are the bizarre reef denizens that can be spotted during the event. Unsuspecting divers and snorkelers at past festivals have encountered an underwater brass band complete with tuba, marchers in an ocean-floor patriotic parade, and the “Divas of the Deep” — a trio of female divers costumed as Ella Fish-gerald, Tuna Turner, and (wait for it) Britney Spearfish.

One memorable year even Elvis himself decided to take the plunge, though he wasn’t wearing blue suede fins at the time. Elvis impersonator Neil Goldberg, dressed in a white caped jumpsuit and flashy gold chains, “performed” underwater on a bright red guitar for a mesmerized crowd of “sea fans.”

“The fish seem to be Elvis fans — they’re ‘all shook up’,” The King quipped after resurfacing.

Elvis impersonator Neil Goldberg performs for "sea fans" at a recent Underwater Music Festival.

For the 2010 festival, scheduled July 10, rumor has it that “Alice in Waterland” and her fictional friends will be on hand. Organizers are staging an offbeat salute to the classic tale “Alice in Wonderland” and the 2010 film it inspired, with underwater appearances by divers costumed as Alice, the “Mad Haddock,” “Cheshire Catfish,” and other take-offs on the story’s memorable characters.

Goofy as it seems, this good time has a serious purpose: preserving the Florida Keys’ unique coral reef ecosystem. The musical broadcast incorporates diver awareness announcements by Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary officials, offering tips on how to enjoy the ocean while minimizing your impact on the reef and marine environment.

So if you’re a music “afishionado,” dive into the doings at the Lower Keys Underwater Music Festival. And even if you can’t come down and take the plunge, you can share the spirit — by “singing out” about reef preservation.

Nick Aldacosta's grin can't hide his wicked sense of humor or world-class storytelling skill.

“That reminds me of a story,” he’ll say with a disarming grin. No matter how outrageous or embellished the details, his tales are indeed true and his listeners are drawn to the punch line like a billfish to bait.

Nick’s own life story is equally engaging, spun from his early years on shrimp boats, docksides and charter vessels. Born in Fort Myers, Fla., he’s been a Marathon resident since he was just a year old.

His father was a shrimp fisherman, and at age 3 Nick started learning the ways of the water.

As a small boy he “caught” his first fish, a mangrove snapper.

“My dad tied a fishing line around my waist and told me, ‘When something pulls on the line, run.’ Well, that fish nearly pulled me off the table on the shore, so I took off running, pulling that fish right outta’ the water,” Nick said with a laugh. “I must have run 15 or 20 miles, that fish trailin’ behind me.”

At age 13, Nick was rigging baits, shaking weeds off fishermen’s lines and selling live mullet for $5 a dozen out of his mother’s Falcon station wagon, running between the Seven Mile Bridge and Bahia Honda. By the time he was 21, he owned Nick’s Sporting Goods.

A younger Nick Aldacosta (seated), circa 1980s, and a small fishing buddy admire their catch after a day on the water.

Though his descriptions of his on-the-water activities during the Keys’ no-holds-barred 1970s fall somewhere between shady and chivalrous, during that time Nick’s charter fishing business aboard Nautical Wheeler came to fruition.

His fishing pals were raucous, rich and famous. They included actor Lee Marvin and sportfishing legend Ron Hamlin, who authored “Tournament,” a fictional angling tale whose character Wink Andros bears an uncanny resemblance to Nick Aldacosta.

Nick’s wife Annette Walsh, who with him owns and operates Annette’s Lobster & Steak House in Marathon, caught his fishing fever and achieved an elusive grand slam shortly after they were married.

“We’d only gone out for the morning in a 14-foot skiff,” NIck said. “We had crackers on the boat, and that’s it.”

The “morning” evolved into a compelling 13-hour episode of fishing. Without fuel, bait or appropriate rods for what lay ahead — a grand slam needs to be completed on the same boat, within 24 hours — they borrowed mullet and tarpon rods from fisherman friends.

Nick siphoned needed gas from his “mullet wagon,” an indescribably ugly convertible with a plywood bait box in place of the trunk. (Nick freely admits that, on a particularly rum-soaked night when the car was still reasonably intact, he left a customer’s tarpon in the trunk. When its scales fell off and the stink grew unbearable, he simply cut off the car’s back end.)

Nick and his wife, Annette Walsh, stand flanked by the grand slam tarpon, permit and bonefish that, along with pictures of Captain Nick's angling days, grace the walls of their restaurant.

After Annette landed the necessary permit and bonefish, the duo targeted tarpon, the final fish in the coveted grand slam.

“She hooked a 150-pound tarpon and fought it an hour and a half, until releasing it at 8:30 p.m. — the fish were all released,” Nick said.

Replicas of the grand slam fish still hang on the walls of the restaurant.

More than 30 years, three vessels and three mullet wagons later, Nick Aldacosta still loves taking people fishing.

Not long ago, sitting at the edge of the restaurant’s bar where patrons and passersby could hear him spin a yarn, he quipped, “I’m not in the fishin’ business; I’m in the entertainment business. I just fish for fun.”

David Horan wields a large propane torch to brown the meringue of Key West's gargantuan Key lime pie as "Attila" (holding the microphone) supervises. (Photos by Rob O'Neal, Florida Keys News Bureau)

The pie, a gargantuan version of the Florida Keys’ signature dessert, was estimated to weigh approximately 450 pounds and serve 1,000 people. It was so big, in fact, that Key West Mayor Craig Cates and the pie’s creators had to use a blowtorch to brown the traditional meringue topping.

“It contains 360 eggs, the juice of 1,080 Key limes, 20 pounds of sugar, 20 pounds of pastry and 90 cans of sweetened condensed milk,” said Sandy Higgs, who has helped mastermind more than a few of the giant confections — and who, despite an easygoing attitude and ready sense of humor, refers to herself as “the Attila of the 7-foot Key lime pie.”

The colossal pie’s pastry crust was baked in four quarters in a pizza oven at the recently opened Bobalu’s on Southard Street (the only oven in Key West large enough for the task).

Key West Mayor Craig Cates takes his turn at the blowtorch to finish the pie's mouthwatering meringue.

“Baking a seven-foot Key lime pie is a little bit more challenging than baking a regular Key lime pie,” said Sandy with magnificent understatement.

Once the four sections were assembled, the massive crust was filled with a smooth-textured “pudding” containing the condensed milk, egg yolks and the juice of the tiny yellow Key lime.

The pie was then trucked down to Mallory Square, where Sandy and its other creators fired up the blowtorch.

“The meringue on the pie is the original recipe — it’s not whipped cream; it’s egg meringue,” she stressed. “’We were fortunate enough to have Mayor Craig Cates brown the meringue with the propane blowtorch.”

The creation of most Key lime pies, of course, doesn’t require such extreme preparation methods.

Key West City Commissioner Mark Rossi (left) and pie creator Bob Bernreuter slice up the mammoth Key lime pie for crowds in Mallory Square.

The famed pie is believed to have originated in Key West in the late 1800s. According to the owner of Key West’s Curry Mansion Inn, a woman named Aunt Sally — the cook for estate owner William Curry — made the first one. On the other hand, Key West historian Tom Hambright surmises that Aunt Sally likely perfected a delicacy that was the creation of area fishermen.

Today, some chefs use graham cracker crust and whipped-cream topping instead of pastry crust and meringue. There’s a quite a debate among Key lime culinarians about which is the “real” way to make the luscious dessert.

In any case, few people visit the Keys without sampling at least one slice of the tart, creamy treat — and on July 1, 2006, its significance was officially recognized.

That’s the day Key lime pie became the official pie of the State of Florida — the result of a vote by the state legislature and subsequent ratification by Florida’s then-governor, Jeb Bush.

As the legislature (and the recent pie-eating crowds in Mallory Square) discovered … how sweet it is.

The first thing I tell them is simple: Key West is not normal.

In Key West, you might spot dogs riding in bike baskets and cats wearing video cameras. Normal? Not exactly.

In a normal city, locals don’t head for the nearest laundromat when they crave a great sandwich. They don’t drive around in cars painted like flamingoes or giant chile peppers or mobile coral reefs. They don’t wear tiaras to lunch.

In fact, Key West is gloriously, outrageously abnormal — a place where wild chickens roam the streets and dogs are favored customers at more than one bar. A place where nobody thinks it’s strange to spot a man painted entirely silver pedaling down the street on an equally silver bike (actually, he’s a local icon, but that’s another story).

What else should “outlanders” know about the island city?

Wandering pirates, old-timers say, were among Key West's early settlers -- and some can still be spotted.

EVERYBODY GETS ALONG. Key West has a warm, welcoming atmosphere that probably stems from its patchwork heritage. Early settlers included Cuban cigarmakers, New England shipbuilders, Bahamian salvagers, Navy men, southern merchants, and even a few wandering pirates. The current population ranges from recovering hippies to people fleeing the “real world” (see above) and émigrés from virtually all over the world. Despite their outward differences, they generally get along just fine.

NO PANTYHOSE. Though parts of the island resemble a New England fishing village, with its gingerbread-trimmed Victorian houses and tidy picket fences, the laid-back atmosphere bespeaks its Caribbean roots. Businessmen don’t wear socks in Key West — let alone ties — and some don’t even wear shoes. The typical island woman shudders at the thought of struggling into pantyhose.

BASKET HOUNDS ABOUND. Bicycles and scooters are favored modes of transportation through the streets of Old Town. And why not? Summer or winter, the breeze is likely to carry the spicy scent of seaweed, saltwater, and frangipani blossoms — something that can’t be enjoyed from a closed car. It’s not unusual to see a bicyclist ride by with a parrot on his or her shoulder, or a dog in the bike basket. These are called basket hounds — a breed believed to be indigenous to Key West.

Each year during Hemingway Days, "ernest" competitors vie for the Hemingway look-alike title. Normal? Maybe not ... but a whole lot of fun! (Photo by Andy Newman/Florida Keys News Bureau)

CREATIVITY RULES. Key West’s creative heritage is a definite part of its charm. Known as a haven and inspiration for writers since Ernest Hemingway’s ten-year residence in the 1930s, the island is home to scores of published writers — including several Pulitzer Prize winners. An annual literary seminar, a Hemingway Days celebration, writers’ groups and a world-class local bookstore all testify to the island’s affection for authors.

THE WORLD’S LONGEST STREET. Many of the most interesting art galleries, shops and restaurants can be found on Duval Street, Key West’s fabled main street. Stretching from the Gulf of Mexico to the Atlantic Ocean, Duval has been called “the longest street in the world.” People who stroll the street can find everything from garden sculptures to sundresses to sinfully good tropical drinks in its colorful establishments.

Being a treasure hunter -- like the late icon Mel Fisher -- is regarded as a perfectly "normal" occupation in Key West. (Photo courtesy of Mel Fisher's Treasures)

OCCUPATIONAL HAZARDS? NOT LIKELY! In Key West, it’s perfectly acceptable to state your occupation as “treasure hunter,” “poet,” “drag queen,” “street performer” or all of the above — without eliciting laughter, a disbelieving stare, or even raised eyebrows. I can’t think of any other place in the world where that’s true.

No, Key West is NOT normal. A bastion of lovely lunacy, it’s separated from mainland Florida by 42 bridges, more than 100 miles … and an attitudinal shift that must be experienced to be truly understood.

So what’s the best thing to tell curious real-world friends about Key West? To head south to the offbeat island, of course, and discover it for themselves!

Don’t head over to the property, the Key West home of the legendary author throughout the 1930s, expecting to see the tiny bundles of fur just yet. Born on Valentine’s Day, they’re living in a secure and secluded corner with their mother until they get older, well away from the crowds that flock to the literary mecca every day.

The friendly felines that inhabit the Hemingway home have become almost as big an attraction as Ernest's legacy. (Photo by Rob O'Neal/Florida Keys News Bureau)

After all, the house may be the place where Hemingway spent the most productive years of his life, writing 70 percent of his classic works — but at this unique spot, the cats come first.

According to Dave Gonzales of the Hemingway house, that’s nothing new; Ernest himself was fascinated by felines.

“Hemingway was very much a cat lover,” said Dave. “He preferred the polydactyls — the six-toed cats that are world famous and sometimes called Hemingway cats.”

Hemingway lived in the Key West home, a Spanish colonial villa at 907 Whitehead St., from 1931 through 1939 with his second wife Pauline and their two sons. During that time he worked on many of his best-known novels and short stories — among them “For Whom the Bell Tolls,” “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” and the Key West-based “To Have and Have Not,” his only novel set in the United States — in a small second-story writing studio behind the house.

Fittingly, the property was recently designated a literary landmark.

Today, visitors touring the home-turned-museum are likely to find a cat or two unconcernedly sprawled on the studio table or napping on Hemingway’s former bed. Scores of them roam the grounds, seemingly secure in the knowledge that they belong there — and probably aware that they’ve become as big an attraction as the legacy of the author himself.

Toured by large numbers of visitors daily, the Hemingway property became a museum in 1964 and was recently designated a literary landmark. (Photo by Andy Newman/Florida Keys News Bureau)

Most are named for Hemingway contemporaries or noted personalities (for example, Spencer Tracy, Gertrude Stein and Emily Dickinson) and many of them have oversized, slightly comical six-toed paws.

They owe their extra digit, Dave explained, to Snowball.

Snowball was Hemingway’s first polydactyl cat — given to the author’s sons, Patrick and Gregory, by a sea captain after the boys ran some errands for him. Captains, it seems, had a particular fondness for six-toed felines.

“They were thought to give the captains calm seas, prevailing winds and safe passages on their journeys,” said Dave. “They were considered lucky cats or mystical cats — therefore, captains being very superstitious, they had the cats on board the ship for their mystical or magical powers as well as their ability to catch mice better with that extra digit.”

Did Snowball’s “magic” have anything to do with Hemingway’s literary prowess during his Key West years? Who knows — but, for Ernest and family as for many other island residents, one cat led to another. Eventually, according to Dave, some 50 cats roamed the property.

Felines loom even larger at the Ernest Hemingway Home & Museum today than they did in the legendary author's day. (Photo by Andy Newman/ Florida Keys News Bureau)

About the same number live at the Hemingway home today, and they’re pampered as befits the descendants (whether actual or honorary) of a literary giant’s muse “meows.” Their lives consist of good food, naps in sunny spots, admiration from an unceasing stream of visitors, and health care from a veterinarian who makes house calls every Wednesday.

Naturally, the birth of a litter of kittens is an occasion for great joy.

“We average one litter a year, and that litter carries the bloodline of Ernest Hemingway’s original clan of cats,” said Dave.

The mama cat is still very protective of the property’s four newest arrivals, so it’s hard to tell if their tiny paws have extra toes or not. But either way, their place in the world is assured — as members of the famed feline family at Key West’s Hemingway home.

In the Conch Republic, "drag racing" is not for the faint of heart -- or weak of ankle. (Photos by Rob O'Neal/Florida Keys News Bureau)

That’s because this rowdy race isn’t designed for high-octane dragsters, but for high-heeled drag stars — female impersonators strutting their stuff complete with big hair, pancake makeup, false eyelashes and elaborate gowns or mini-dresses. (According to race organizers, however, tiaras are optional.)

Each year, more than a dozen daring divas compete in the offbeat event, which is presented by Key West’s Bourbon Street Complex to benefit the Florida Keys’ nonprofit Helpline organization.

“Officials” in black-and-white dresses designed to resemble checkered flags direct the action, while contestants race down a portion of Duval Street, the island city’s aptly nicknamed “main drag.”

In past years, they’ve even had to navigate an obstacle course of tires and trundle unwieldy shopping carts past the crowd. That crowd, by the way, usually numbers several hundred people (and they can get downright fierce about championing their favorites).

Navigating the course along Duval Street can be pretty "tiring" -- particularly for racers in towering heels.

The lively lovelies, handicapped based on the height of their heels above the regulation minimum three inches, are judged on their speed. Judges are also influenced by style (such as it is) — and generally aren’t above accepting a bribe or two to benefit Helpline.

While the energetic entrants TRY to sprint down the course, footwear malfunctions can slow their pace to an uneven stagger. (Sandals and stilettos are carefully prepped for the event, but it’s a rare race that doesn’t include at least one crash.) And a broken heel, the ultimate tragedy, can end a contestant’s dreams of victory.

Past years’ “athletes” have included a Lady Godiva wannabe with towering patent-leather boots, a perfectly-coiffed Barbie Doll clone and a goddess-sized diva whose purple grass skirt didn’t quite match her magenta curls. My personal favorite was a 2009 entrant fetchingly attired in a flowing pink gown, filmy wedding veil and full beard.

Some lively lovelies wear sporting attire with their heels -- a smart choice given the course's peculiar challenges.

The drag challenge is part of Key West’s annual Conch Republic Independence Celebration that commemorates the Florida Keys’ 1982 secession from the United States — a symbolic action prompted by a U.S. Border Patrol checkpoint improperly erected at the head of the island chain.

The 10-day celebration also features a gaggle of other events showcasing the Keys’ independent and eccentric spirit.

Highlights include a sea battle with tall ships and weapons that range from water cannons to flying vegetables, the so-called world’s longest parade down Duval Street from the Atlantic Ocean to the Gulf of Mexico, and an open-air bed race billed as “the most fun you can have in bed with your clothes on.”

The 2010 Conch Republic Independence Celebration is set for April 16-25, with the drag race Saturday, April 17. If you’re in Key West at that time, “drag” yourself over to Duval Street and check out the action. Chances are you’ll have (ouch — wait for it) one “heel” of a good time.

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!

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.

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.”

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.