Safe Harbor: Away from the crowd

Our friend Sullins called, suggesting he and I skip town during the biker invasion -- so of course supper on Stock Island was in order.

He pulled out the Beemer, dropped the top and we bopped across the Cow Key Bridge, turned right after the Hurricane Hole, then right again (not the hard right; the soft one), then left through the trailer parks, arriving fashionably early at the Hogfish Bar & Grill, on the edge of Safe Harbor. (Symmetry: Flee hogs, seek hogfish.)

The sun was painting the clouds over the power plant, while a big gray cat crouched on the rail attached to our table to scope out my shrimp (quite fresh) and Sullins' tuna (quite rare).

The waitress came over to ask if the cat was bothering us, and all of us laughed except the cat.

The beer was cold, and there wasn't much of anything chromed in sight. Quite lovely.