We finally arrived in Key West Florida around eight o’clock on a hot Tuesday evening in mid-June. The trip from Philadelphia was annoying and too damn long, but sure worth it. It took us a car ride, two shuttles, two airplanes, a rental, and a total of eighteen hours to get there. I am an inspired young writer trying to make it in a corporate world and my six-month happily pregnant wife, we’ve left for a little get-away right before the pregnancy, and traveling becomes too much of a burden for both of us. 

We’ve decided on Florida because it was a relatively affordable trip with an excellent travel package for a week and, of course, because of Ernest Hemingway. Hemingway resided in Key West from 1931 to 1939. His house is a historic landmark and a museum, and it’s the primary destination for so many people coming down here, to the edge of the world, the far end of the Florida Keys. We stayed at Havana Cabana, a cool Cuban style hotel-resort located just about ten miles away from Hemingway’s house. We stayed there for the next five days, and this would be our last trip with only two of us before the baby arrives. 

We were lucky to have both of our flights, one from Philadelphia to Tampa, and Tampa to Miami, arrive on time and even before the scheduled time. The only fuck-up we’ve encountered was the rental car, which happened to be full of cockroaches, but everything else meant to be great. There were about ten different car rental companies on that one tiny street near the airport. We went to the next door’s company, and they had a $40 car available. I told them that I would think about it, and we walked away. The following rental place, right next door, had a car for $60 per day. I’ve told them that it seems like with every ten feet, there is a 20 dollar markup on the car rental. They laughed and said in their defense: “But we don’t charge you the security deposit” and that “everything is included all in one price, no surprises, no additional fees.” “Good to know” – I said, “Can I think about it?”

When we walked off to another car rental location, located right across the street. It has been a dual business, cheap-looking office, and one black man was sitting by the desk in the far back. The rental man was wearing eyeglasses and sounded pretty calm and intelligent. There was a TV on with local Miami news. I thought that was a pretty bad idea to have that shitshow on for the newly arrived people who might be terrified by all the stupidity going on in Miami. There is always some weirdest news coming from Florida every time. Ten minutes into our car booking, we realized that a baby was sleeping in the cradle right against the wall. The man came out of the desk and picked up the baby, who just woke up, put her on his laps, and continued with the booking process. “Wow, I haven’t even noticed there was a baby in there,” I said, surprised to my wife. She said yes, and smiled. The man ran through the prices, and we end up getting a black Ford Fiesta.

Most of his cars were shit and pretty used-up, but we both felt petty for the little three-year-old girl who stuck there with his father, in that cheap office, while her father was trying to make a living. The price came down to about forty dollars per day for five days, with about two hundred dollars. All toll charges will be added in the end during the checkout. I went outside and checked the car’s interior through the window. It looked alright for a Ford “Fiesta.” We got in and rolled off into the unknown and mysterious four-hour drive away, Key West. As soon as we got into the car, the major thunderstorm began, and it was the significant pain in the ass to get out of Miami during that kind of weather plus the local evening traffic. It took us over an hour to get out of Miami, and we were on the highway straight down to our destination, the romantic and mysterious Key West.

The first thing you notice when you arrive in Florida is the humidity. There are different levels of humidity, as I’ve learned for myself. We have one kind of humidity in the North East Philly, which is more or less bearable, and then there is another kind out there in Miami, for example, where you might as well die because there is no air at all. Key West had a different type of humidity, but the best I have ever experienced. It was always warm, eighty-five degrees, sunny and no rain during our entire stay. You feel the humidity in the air when you are outside, but it feels nice and warm, and you can still function in those conditions. I could feel the light breeze from the ocean along with warm tropical humid air getting into my lungs, hair, and clothes. I could feel the weight of it. Even my cigarettes tasted better there. My hair got all curled up right away as the warm wind blew, making me realize that we were in a different climate zone and felt great. No wonder Hemingway loved this climate and decided to stay here in Key West back in the 1930s.

We spent most of our time staying by the pool at our hotel. They had a beautiful place there that reminded us of our honeymoon resort in Mexico with cabanas, live music, bar, restaurant, and lots of palms. We did venture out to eat to different places out in the city. We went to see Hemingway’s house on the second day. We went to see other places and establishments that were of some kind of importance, and honestly, there was nothing as exciting in the entire Key West as Hemingway’s house. We spent a few hours there, did the tour, took some pictures, bought some books and souvenirs. The house he bought with his second wife back in the day was a pretty luxury piece of real-estate back then, and even today, it remains the coolest fucking house in the entire Key West. We went to a few places on Duval street, which is always full of a bunch of people trying to get fucked up and party till the morning. We’ve party barely at all. We had a baby coming reasonably soon, so we just did the dinners and lunches out and then back at the hotel I would be drinking wine and beer by myself, reading “For whom the bell tolls” and trying to write a short story while I was in the moment of inspiration. The next day, I had a slight hangover, and my wife, completely sober and pregnant, went out for breakfast and then returned to the pool. We both realized that we were adults now, and life was already different for us. It will take another turn in about three months, but until then, we were still a small, young family of two. 

On our last day in Key West, we wanted to see our last sunset on Earth’s edge. We were literary at the very end of the US territory with Cuba just nighty miles away across the water. The sun was so close to us and the ocean, and we were so close to it. I’ve got a beer, and we sat on the boardwalk by Mallory Square, watching the world moving around us.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, I want to say something to you. There is a reason you are here this evening. There is so much going on around here on the boardwalk. Don’t watch the circus on the boardwalk; there is a lot of circuses around.” Said the man playing the guitar on the boardwalk by the Mallory Square. “You are here for a “Sunset Celebration.” Watch the sunset. Sunset is the best thing to watch on the boardwalk. Sunsets are unique, beautiful, and intimate moments of our lives. Enjoy them while you can, while the sun is setting down.” 

He was telling the truth, and nobody listens to him. His voice was soothing and calming, and you wanted to listen to him more. He sounded like a Rastaman who wasn’t high and spoke proper English. He was an older black man wearing a Rasta hat, light blue jeans, and a black shirt and holding an acoustic guitar connected to the amp. He had a mike stand in front of him, and he was trying to collaborate with the crowd making his little announcements.  

People were busy walking around and not paying any attention to the old man and his guitar. He was there to make some money playing live music, selling his CDs on the side but mainly he was there to help people celebrate the sunsets. People just ignored his music and his words and never responded to any of his messages. He finished talking and looked around. He seemed like a ghost amongst the massive crow that started to fill out the boardwalk as the day was getting to its inevitable end. I felt petty for the old Rastaman. It felt like nobody else except us was watching him or listening to what he was saying. The old man looked silly and ignored, strummed his guitar again with another song. The song was “What a wonderful world” in his Jamaican personal interpretation and it sounded fresh and new, and there was the right moment for this song then. The sun was setting down slowly and lazily as more people were gathering around holding their drinks, cameras, and cigarettes. We were sitting on the side of the boardwalk’s edge across from the ocean, watching the sun setting down over a little island in the middle of the sea and listening to the old Rastaman singing. It has been our last day and last evening in Key West and the sunset moment on the edge of the world was very special for us. With every moment, more and more people came around. They all gathered to watch the sunset. 

There is something about the sun setting down at the end of the ocean that makes people wonder. It is beautiful. All sunsets are beautiful. They tell us a few essential things that maybe not everyone realizes. They are relatively short, and one has to be around on time to catch them. They tell us that the time is gone and the day has ended. Yet another day of our life went into nowhere. The more sun is setting down into the ocean by the edge of the Earth, the more light it produces. Bright yellow and orange, heavy-pink, and fiery red lights that fill out the horizon and make one watching and wondering. You have to capture that moment. And at the very end of it, everything just becomes grey and dark and dull. 

Sunsets show us the complete beauty of each day, which ends with a sunset, which makes each day beautiful. Those that are complaining about their bad days need to see more sunsets. One has to be grateful to be able to witness an evening and enjoy it thinking how beautiful they are and how great it is that they have this opportunity to enjoy it. Sunsets bring nothing but the short-term feeling of great beauty and calm and romance into our lives. Think about how many people who died miss those great moments of nature and how lucky you are to witness them now. Spend some time watching the sunsets, enjoy them, and think about those who no longer can. I think they would be happy for you to be able to do that. Sunsets will give you a little bit of time to do nothing but to watch and wait. You might feel inspired; you might find a solution to a problem, you might find peace and peace of mind while you are there just sitting and watching the big red-yellow sky with a fiery ball setting down, completing yet another day. 

“There is a unique event going on during the sunsets,” continued the old man with the guitar. “If you pay attention and notice there is a green flash just for a very brief moment right before the sun goes down. Now, if you don’t see the green flash, please, by all means, don’t feel left out, ok? Because you can create your green flash if you walk past the musician’s basket. Do you see that basket there? If you’ve got something green in your pockets and if you’ve got some love in your heart for the music or the musician or the occasion, flash it into the basket for the musician.” Said the old Rastaman and started to play another song. Nobody flashed any green into his basket. The world just kept on turning, and the day just kept on ending, and the people were as always busy with something else.

We took some pictures and videos while the old man sang his songs. I am not sure if everyone realized how this old man has made this special moment even more special with his singing. The sun went down in its way, just like it does every day. We waited until it was gone entirely, and the world went back to the usual dark-grey evening. We left the boardwalk along with all those people still out there and the old Rastaman with his guitar and his songs. The pier was busy with people walking around, taking pictures, going nowhere. The bars on the dock were all busy and full of people, mostly tourists. Massive vents were blowing the air because the day was so hot, and it was the longest day of the year and seemed like the hottest one thus far. We walked out past them all by the pier and into the street. The streets were getting busier with the new tourists and party people. We can see and hear the drunken crowds from the “Sloppy Joe’s” who came there looking for another great night of drinking. What else is there to do? We have decided to get Lyft back to the hotel since walking would be too painful, and we were already exhausted from the heat of the day, wandering around and watching the sunset. The car arrived a few minutes later, and we got inside the airconditioned van and drove back to our Cuban hotel on North Roosevelt boulevard. 

In just under fifteen minutes, we were lying on the bed talking about the day passed and about all good moments during our short vacation, ending tomorrow. We talked about our upcoming child. I’ve touched my wife’s belly, and the baby moved inside. There is no better feeling for the soon-to-be-father than to feel your baby inside your wife’s belly. The baby reacts to your touches with moving around and kicking. The baby already lives its own life, and we don’t know what he will look like yet or what kind of person he will become, but we both love him already very much. We both know that we cannot wait to see our child being born, making us happy parents, and completing our small family. I hope one day, when the baby grows up to be old enough to understand, the three of us will be watching sunsets across the ocean somewhere in the world and enjoying them as the two of us did today.