Key West

Key West, Florida. Though one could argue that the Keys are only precariously attached to Florida. Driving in the shuttle, we skim along heavily bulkheaded not-quite-land and someone asks the unspoken, "Does any of this really survive a hurricane?" It is explained that the rip rap has just been replaced.

Diving among placid tarpon, we go with a charter to the protected Western Sambo section of the Florida National Marine Sanctuary. I'm sure I never knew how large a tarpon was, how shiny their silver plates. They seem to know fishing's not allowed here.

Drinking at the end of the continent, we sit by the beach with all the pink midwesterners, all the armed services, and are served by Conch residents. Our divemaster explains why he stopped drinking: it's too easy to do nothing other than drink, when really you could be doing nothing other than being on the water, enjoying the ocean.