'I don't care if you walk down the street in a gorilla suit, just don't tell me how to live my life and we'll get along fine.' An unwritten agreement seemed to exist between the people in Homer, Alaska, a town I used to live in that's literally the end of America's road. That brand of individualism seemed unique until I spent some time touring the Florida Keys, the other end of America's road where the cultures of the Jimmy and the Warren Buffets clash in the aqua ocean water that informs the colors of the land, the sky and the clothing. If you're running from something this is as far as you can go unless you're planning on dinner with Castro. Border town adventure buzzes under the flip-flop, easy-going nature here. I heard a quote that in the 1970's it was a good idea to pack heat to ward off pirates if you were a recreational boater. Like Homer the real draw of the place is its physical beauty but unlike Alaska's heavy colors, the Keys' palette is so light if you shot a pirate you have the sense he would bleed pastel.
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