10 reasons Philly tops Key West

KEY WEST, FLA. - I'm on a moped, drinking a margarita, wearing nothing but flip-flops. Ah, just another day at the southernmost point in the continental United States.

A decade ago, I talked friends into ending the annual trek to Walt Disney World and trying the island that Jimmy Buffett sings about. Ten years later, I still go twice a year with the trumped-up threat that one day I'm not coming back.

Ernest Hemingway called Key West the best place he ever lived. He did his best eating, drinking, fishing and, according to his house tour, philandering here, as well as some pretty fine writing.

So as a writer, this is the place I wanted to be. If I couldn't crank out the great American novel in Key West, well, I shoulda gone to vet school back in 1997. But I'm on my back and my feet are hanging off the end of the lounge. It's 72 degrees and through my perfectly painted toenails, I gaze out to where the Atlantic meets the Gulf, and I swear, I can see Cuba.

But there's no way in hell I'm staying here. You may come down on vacation, go home on probation, but when you're a Market-Frankford El girl, a moped just doesn't cut it. Here's why:

1. Drag Queens vs. Mummers. Both are grown men in makeup and sequined gowns. But if you see one drag show in Key West, you've seen 'em all. Give me the strut up Broad any day.

2. The Key West pretzel. remember your worst postnasal drip? Well, split it in half, lather with margarine, throw it on a grill and then cover it with brown mustard, and you have the Key West soft pretzel. Makes you yearn for the guy on Roosevelt Boulevard selling 4 for a $1, and you know he didn't wash his hands all day.

3. Sausage & Peppers. Every week, I wait in line at Reading Terminal for Tommy DiNic's. But I strayed. Key West's S&P, sweet Rocky Balboa, is a gray, lukewarm link topped with ungrilled onions and green peppers on a hot dog bun. It's the equivalent of stealing the Baby Jesus out of the manger display!

4. Philly tap, top shelf outta da spigot. When I was returning my moped rental, the guy asked if I was feeling OK, since he saw me swerving in the parking lot.

"I hope you didn't drink the water down here," he said. "Every toilet that flushes from Miami on down ends up in Key West." Oh, how I ached for Delaware and Schuylkill Punch.

5. Christmas palm trees vs. Thompson Street. As the sun sets in Key West, a palm tree lights up with Christmas lights and a drag queen dressed as Mrs. Claus (when she was 21) cruises down Duval Street in a white Lincoln convertible.

On Thompson Street in Port Richmond, my neighbors use every inch of their stamp-sized front lawns to squeeze in an animated blow-up Christmas decoration, complete with lights and music, as well as those animatronic reindeer that move their heads as they nod for infinity. We compete for the Clark Griswold Xmas Decoration Contest that has no prize but bragging rights.

Joey Long, the Canada Dry driver, wins every year because his house looks like Santa's Love Shack. Peco loves us because we use so much juice, and actually all pay our bills, too!

6. Sand vs. cement. My travel companions are members of my women's volleyball team. At home, we play on a cement basketball court - without kneepads! So when the Philly girls picked up a volleyball game on the sand, I went from being "The Polish Windmill" to "The Polish Vacuum." (We sucked.) It doesn't help being loaded on margaritas before the first serve.

7. What the heck is "wooder ice"? You'd think a tourist trap that's always warm would know that. But there isn't one spot in Key West where you can get a cherry or a lemon ice. Key West's version? A frozen margarita.

8. Pork roll? Four mornings. Four breakfasts. Four waitresses. And not one of them knew what pork roll is. To them, it sounds like a body part that a drag queen tapes between his legs. No idea it's the best breakfast meat you can never fry too brown or crispy on a bagel with eggs and cheese.

9. It's a wonderful life. Back in Philly, I'm like George Bailey from the classic Christmas movie. Over my separation anxiety from Big Pat and Carm, the wicked and evil sisters and the flatulent Kozlowski family pooches.

There is no way I could do without Stock's pound cake, Tacconelli's pizza, the Philadelphia Girls Rowing Club, the Port Richmond volleyball girls, the PAL. And though every Key drag queen wears a Phillies G-string, why would I settle for an Oscar Mayer wiener when I have the Ballpark Frank at home?

10. Key West doesn't have the one who melts my Cheez Whiz. Jimmy Buffett's "Margaritaville" laments, "I'm wasting away here in Margaritaville. Searching for my lost shaker of salt. Some people claim that there's a woman to blame, but I know it's my own damned fault."

I know what you mean, JB.

The night before my trip, I had dinner with a 6-foot, blue-eyed tall glass of water who let me twist his arm and drive him to his car at 15th and Latimer. We were flirting for months over e-mail and had lunch a few times. When I pulled up to the curb to let him out, he leaned over to kiss me, and I gave him my cheek. He pecked it and walked away in the rain. And it was my own damned fault.

So to the one I let go at 15th and Latimer, the drag queens gave me some pretty good tips on how to make it up to you. Give me a second chance, babe, and I'm sure this time next year, it will be you and me in Key West, on a moped, drinking margaritas, wearing nothing but flip-flops.

And you'll always make sure I come home to Philly. *

Patty-Pat Kozlowski lives in Port Richmond and sends dirty postcards twice a year from Key West.