OUR LADY OF PERPETUAL MOTION

A few years ago, just after Paco and I started dating, we went on vacation to Key West. Being a Cancer and therefore water baby, I will always choose sand over snow. Cold weather makes me cranky.

As it happened, we found ourselves down in the Keys over Easter weekend, which was nice for a lot of reasons. Weather was great, it wasn’t too hot or touristy yet, and Easter is one of my favorite holidays (being a cafeteria Catholic if that matters). This last fact was what led us to visit the local parish church there in Key West. Not the only one in town, mind you, but the one closest to our lovely little hotel and within walking distance.

Being as it was Good Friday and I wanted to scope out exactly where the church was and what time Masses were, we decided to have a little wander down that way and do some reconnaissance. Being that it was also Happy Hour on Good Friday, it made perfect sense at the time to stop on the way and have a cocktail or two and then drop by the church for some much-needed reflection.

After stopping in the Green Parrot to take advantage of their outstanding frozen Margaritas, which to our delight could be poured into a Go Cup should the patron have an urgent appointment to get to, we proceeded down the street towards the church.

Things were going smoothly by all accounts as we entered the vestibule, pausing briefly to dip a hand into the Holy Water fount, do a quick genuflect and then have a little sit down in the nearest pew. Not being Catholic but certainly spiritual and reverential, Paco sat down next to me and we proceeded to quietly, individually reflect and bask in the presence of the Lord and what the upcoming religious holiday meant to each of us.

What I failed to notice at the time, being so deep in prayer and reflection, was the tiny little woman sitting in the pew across the aisle from us, staring a hole right through my tube top. Paco nudged me, motioning in her direction with his head. As our eyes locked and I was wondering what we could have possibly done to upset her, he gently reached over and lowered my Go Cup full to the brim with FROZEN MARGARITA. I guess the umbrella gave the game away. At any rate, I was mortified and tried to make one of those hand signals that are supposed to communicate that I had no idea how it could happen that I had so casually strolled into church carrying a cocktail. The only thing that could have made this worse is if I had had a Virginia Slim hanging out of the corner of my mouth.

Realizing that I stood no chance of convincing this obviously staunch and loyal parishioner that this was a complete misunderstanding, Paco and I decided to make a swift exit out of there. While I was remorseful and totally horrified about my accidental transgression, Paco was in stitches and to this day still laughs about the day I had Happy Hour at the Catholic Church.

We still celebrated Easter Mass in Key West that weekend at the beautiful Spanish-style Catholic Church on Duval Street, heads held high. But this time, the cocktails stayed behind at the Green Parrot.