DTT

When I was in college, some friends and I sailed my roommate’s father’s boat from Miami to Islamorada in the Florida Keys. It was a wonderful trip — until we knocked a giant hole in the bottom of the boat, which was discovered when I went into the cabin for something and was standing in knee-deep water. It’s a great story. But that’s not what I’m prattling on about this week.

While The Shamrock was being kept off the bottom of the marina through the clever use of towels stuffed in the hole and industrial pumps, we decided to go to Key West via U.S. 1. Everyone was excited to visit the (then) one and only Margaritaville, certain we’d spot Jimmy Buffett there eating a cheeseburger. We did, but that’s also another story.

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