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Cibola |
In 1513, Ponce de Leon, a Spanish
Conquistador probably looking for gold and slaves, named it La
Florida—the flowery land. And it really seemed like the fabled land
of Cibola, the mythical golden land that attracted the Conquistadors
in the 16th Century, after the sailor-phobic Norfolk,
Virginia area.
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Biscayne Blvd., Miami |
We rolled into Miami on US Rte. 1 in
brilliant blue sky and sunshine; Biscayne Boulevard lined with
coconut palms on both sides as far as the eye could see, behind the
palms glass-covered buildings glittering in the sun seemingly made of
gold—the mythical golden land of Eldorado just like in the travel
posters. We rolled down Biscayne in a kind of delirium of ecstasy
unable to absorb the beauty of the scene quickly enough to satisfy
our appetite for...what?...rain after a long drought.
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Fountainbeau Hotel, Miami Beach |
Miami and Miami Beach in those days
were already, of course, well-known tourist resort towns, but they
were still not overly spoiled by too much emphasis on tourism (or, at
least, didn't seem that way to us), and the alligators weren't
romping in your swimming pool yet, either. At any rate we didn't
have the kind of money or time to truly sample the delights of Miami;
we were due to report to our new assignments in Key West and were
compelled to continue south on US Rte. 1 all the way to the tip of
Florida and across the Overseas Highway to Key West, the southern end of US Rte. 1.
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Key West, Florida |
Gatch and I said good-bye when we
arrived in Key West and went on to our new assignments, I to the USS
Salinan.
Did you ever meet someone you took an
instant dislike to without ever having exchanged two words? That
turned out to be the case with my division officer—a snotty ROTC
wonder Ensign (lowest ranking officer) who gave himself credit for a
lot more than he actually had on the ball. And, I suppose, the
feeling was mutual—as far as the dislike not the on-the-ball part
was concerned. I had, by now, more time and experience in the Navy
and at sea than he did, but he was an officer and I was just a dumb
swabbie as far as he was concerned (even though I was QM3 [3rd
Class Petty Officer] by then). Our denouement came later although our
mutual antagonism occurred instantaneously.
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drive in restaurant |
Life aboard the “Sally” was
relatively leisurely paced so we had a lot of liberty time to enjoy
the exotic locale of the Florida Keys, especially having a car on
base. A couple of shipmate buddies and I used to jump in my old '55
Ford and drive along US 1, go to one beach or another often stopping
at roadside restaurants for lunch or dinner before coming back to Key
West and the Sally. Back in 1961, a more innocent time, some of these
restaurants had catchy signs to attract the attention of passing cars
like, for example, the interesting sculpture on the right. They may
still have them to this day for all I know.
To be continued...
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