Roosters, Drunks, and the Key West Creeping Crud

Nibblin’ on sponge cake, Watchin’ the sun bake; All of those tourists covered with oil. Strummin’ my six string on my front porch swing. Smell those shrimp- They’re beginnin’ to boil”

Jimmy Buffett drew us all such an iconic picture of peace, tranquility and leisure when he wrote these lyrics 40 years ago, that Americans instantly attribute to Key West in southern Florida. But then again, that was 1977.

 

Mistress Oasis and I flew down to Key West to visit some friends of ours for a few days. We looked forward to sunset strolls, hanging out with our friends, and taking in some of the local way of life. We’d also brought along some toys as well to have a little of our own style of fun. We specifically booked a suite in a bed and breakfast with a high vaulted ceiling, large cross beams and some wide open central space. Pretty much anywhere I am, if I have roll of para-cord, I can design bondage points onto just about anything that is stable. Bring along some decent cuffs for wrists and ankles (We’re not big rope bondage people), and a few simple toys – and we can have as good a scene as we would in any well stocked dungeon.

But, our vacation began taking a turn just about the time he airplane’s wheels came up. Mistress Oasis started experiencing a little cough and a sore throat. By the time we’d landed, she’d gotten worse and was complaining of body aches. I’ve had the flu enough times to know what was coming. Once we got to the gorgeous room, I put her to bed and transformed from slave dragos to nurse dragos. Her fever was 102. I felt so bad for her. But once those symptoms have hit, there’s little you can do but ride it out. So I did my best to keep her comfortable.

Our room was just half a block off of Duval Street – the main party strip in Key West. Just below our window was a parking lot. Ohhh, boy!

The first thing Jimmy Buffet never told us was that Key West is full of chickens. Chickens run free in the streets. They are protected by ordinance as a historical part of the city. They roam through restaurants and stores without worry. Where there are chickens, there are roosters. Forget what you’ve heard about roosters crowing at sunrise. Not in Key West. Roosters crow all night, all day. It is constant – and it seemed that every night there was a rooster or two just outside our windows. I’m guessing the all night crowing is not natural for roosters. I’m certain the all-night lifestyle of Key West has something to do with the birds’ biological clocks being off.

Chicken with babies in a restaurant
Roosters in the street.

The first night, my poor Mistress did not sleep at all. She was coughing, feverish, had body aches, and kept cycling through being super cold and burning hot all night. I did my best to comfort her. But when someone has a fever, it’s hard to keep them comfortable.

The next day, I got some breakfast for us and brought it back to the room. Mistress was still suffering from body aches, fever, coughing and all of the sinus problems that come with the flu. I contacted our friends to let them know we wouldn’t be able to see them right away. They understood.

Our room was every bit as gorgeous as we’d hoped. It had beautiful wooden floors, high ceilings, a gigantic bed, lots of open space, and giant rafters about 12 feet high crossing the entire length of the common area. I’d spent part of the night calculating where I’d locate tie points once Mistress Oasis was over this malady. I’d run a pair of lines over the high rafters so she could string me up in the middle of the room with my arms up-stretched wide above me. There were a couple of nice, heavy wooden chairs in the room. I would have a set of adjustable lengths of cord ready for however she’d like to attach me to one. Each chair was also perfect for her to sit and relax in while I rubbed her feet or acted as her human ottoman. And, of course, I’d run lengths along all the edges of the bed so she could tie me in any number of ways and use me to her heart’s content.

But first, I had to help her get well.

Rafters above the room
(sigh) It would have been so fun to play here…
Beautiful suite with wooden floors.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next night, I discovered what else Jimmy didn’t tell us. Duval street and just about every street three blocks in any direction from it is full of drunks! And there is no closing time. At about 3AM I was awakened by what I thought was a domestic fight in a room next to ours. A guy was yelling, a woman was screaming back at him. I opened a window and looked around, but couldn’t pinpoint a location. I could tell by the voices that no one was throwing punches. They were just both venting – very loudly – about what the other was currently doing that pissed them off. So I didn’t call the cops, and eventually things got quiet again … except for the roosters. We didn’t sleep well that night either.

The next day, Mistress was feeling just a little better. Her fever was coming down, but would spike again occasionally. However, I began to feel under the weather and cursed my luck. I knew what was coming. This is where one person gets sick and then, once they start to recover – their caregiver falls ill from catching what the first person had. Up till now I hadn’t caught her bug. And I’d been drinking water and taking Vitamin C like I was an addict of some sort. I’d hoped to escape this thing so that once she was well, we could have some real fun. But playing when you’re sick is never fun and makes everything unpredictable. When I’m sick, it usually fucks up my pain tolerance, my equilibrium, and my overall mood. But I couldn’t help being sad that we had such a perfect play space and couldn’t use it.

I laid around all day with Mistress Oasis and did work on my computer. Outside, roosters crowed, tourists wandered about. Somewhere a cop or somebody was constantly blowing a whistle in short, quick bursts. And the music from the various bars and restaurants filled the air throughout the day. We’d opened some windows to get some fresh air circulating. I kept waiting for the inevitable fever to hit me. I got smart and took a walk to a drug store and picked up some ear plugs so I could sleep well that night. When we went to bed, I fully expected to wake up with a full blown case of the flu myself with all of the symptoms. The ear plugs helped dampen the roosters, the music and the drunks outside.

However, I was still awakened by yelling again in the wee hours of the morning. Key West also has homeless bums wandering around. And this evening there were three hanging out in the parking lot just outside and below our room having a very drunken and very loud argument. After about 15 minutes one of them grabbed his backpack and wandered away telling the other two to fuck off and calling them assholes. The other two boldly began yelling that they’d kick his ass if he came back – as if the opportunity hadn’t been there for the last 15 minutes.

Things got relatively quiet again. I still wasn’t feverish, but my head felt full and my muscles had aches in them. I laid in bed stroking Mistress’s back gently as she slept. Looking at those huge beams high overhead, my mind began to wander through all of the dreamy things we’d both hoped to happen on this trip. When unpacking our bags, I’d noticed Mistress Oasis had packed one of my favorite 3 foot signal whips made by David Morgan in Australia. It’s a single-tail that, depending on the type of cracker I attach, can either deliver anything from a medium bite to an actual cut. I imagined myself in the middle of that floor, naked, arms stretched high above me and secured to the lines attached to those beams overhead. I thought of what the sting of that beautiful whip would feel like all over me. The searing pain…the gasp of air…the muscles contracting in unison…the heat radiating from the newest stripe as the pain slowly softens from a sharp, biting sting to a warm throb…the fear, excitement and anticipation of waiting for the next one – all enveloped within an invisible cocoon of heart-warming love, devotion, pride. Pride in knowing that all of my suffering draws my beloved tormentor into me, making her fall in love with me all over again with each and every mark she delivers. My entire being was craving it. If only we hadn’t gotten sick.

I marveled at  was how I could feel so physically miserable, but still experience such strong masochistic cravings. Even if presented with the opportunity, I would have declined out of an abundance of caution. (Yes, I have veto power when it comes to play. Mistress Oasis understands that forcing myself to play when my body and mind aren’t up to it is not good for either of us.) But my body wanted it so badly. I think only another masochist could understand this hunger. I never really experienced it myself until I’d given up topping completely, devoted myself to being fully a submissive, then pushing myself beyond things I’d previously thought I couldn’t  do. But here I was, feeling like shit – and still my body was craving those experiences. However, I’d already realized that neither of us was going to be well enough for play before our vacation was over.

That next morning, I still hadn’t plunged into the full-blown flu. But I felt, well, yucky. I had a slight headache, fatigue, and my voice was cracking. But I still didn’t have a fever or the accompanying symptoms. Mistress Oasis was feeling better, but would still get very tired after just minor exertion. She was also suffering from her own regret that we couldn’t play as we’d hoped. But like me, she realized that the best thing for both of us was rest. Otherwise, we’d have to travel back home sick.

This went on for the entire vacation. And although we did get out a few times for walks and lunch, we mostly stayed in our gorgeous suite, lamenting at all the missed opportunities it presented us with. We did manage to have dinner with our friends, who clarified that what I had was something that had been going around Key West recently. They called it the Key West Creeping Crud, and said it feels like a flu but with no fever. Plus, unlike the flu which hits quickly, (Mistress was down for the count within a couple of hours) this thing creeps up on you slowly – making you feel worse and worse gradually over a couple of weeks.

We’re home now, where it’s cold, cloudy and windy. I’m still coping with the little piece of Margaritaville I absorbed during my visit. I still feel like shit. My head hurts, I’m fatigued. My muscles ache. But I have no fever.

We’re going to go back to Key West again. And we’re going to reserve that room again. But this time I’ll include some ear plugs. I think we’ll go in the summer or spring to make sure we don’t get sick. Hopefully we can do a few photo shoots from there as well so I can share some of the experience.

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