Table for two? Yes, a man and his crazed wife

Published Aug. 13, 2007

Summers sure are a lot hotter these days.
It used to be that on a warm summer day, a person would look at the thermometer hanging on the side of his garage and say, “Whew! 90! It’s hot outside!”
Then some weather guy factored the humidity into the temperature, inventing the “heat index” and turning that 90 into 94.
And then another weather guy decided you can’t ignore things like wind speed, sun intensity and elevation, either. And so was born “real feel” temperatures and that 90 was now 96.

We were down in Key West last week.
Who goes to Key West in August? Crazy people, that’s who. My husband and I.
The same two adventure seekers who fly into Fort Myers so they can drive across the Everglades and the Keys.
In a convertible.
I donned a visor, sunglasses and 30 spf sunscreen for the five-hour voyage. It wasn’t so bad, especially when I turned on the air conditioner when my husband wasn’t looking. Each time, I managed to cool off a bit before he switched it off. (“It wastes gas.”) On. Off. On. Off. It was our little car game on the way to Key West.
One day, we walked 10 blocks or so to have lunch at “Blue Heaven,” a famous Key West restaurant, but it wasn’t until we got there that I realized all the seating was outdoors in a sweltering, er, shaded garden.
When it hit me that my trek was not going to end in an air-conditioned restaurant, I got a little panicked.
“You eat outside?” I asked my husband.
“Yeah, is that OK? Look, it’s nice back here,” he said.
I couldn’t see anything except the half-dozen or so standing fans that were strategically placed around the tables.
Look at a fan. Look to see where it is blowing. Look to see if anyone is sitting there.
Look at another fan. Look to see where it is blowing. Look to see if anyone is sitting there.
As we stood — my husband admiring the place, I taking stock of the fans — a waiter came up. He was carrying menus and two bundles of silverware.
“Hello. Would you like to sit here?” he gestured to the table nearest us.
I was off like a shot. I saw a fanned location.
My husband was right behind. The waiter behind us.
“Here then?” he motioned to the table where I had stopped.
Again, I was off like a shot. I spotted what looked to be a better place. I wriggled around seated diners on the mulch-covered ground. My husband was behind me. The waiter behind him.
“She’s looking for a table with a fan,” I heard my husband try to explain my behavior to the waiter.
“Well, here,” the waiter said. “Why don’t you just take these?” He handed the silverware and the menus to my husband. “Just sit wherever she decides.”
And then I had to make a decision: Yank out of their chairs a rather large couple seated directly in front of the best fan in the place or take an empty table nearby.
I decided I was probably already pushing my luck with my husband, so I took the open table.
Two glasses of ice water and two glasses of iced tea later, I was composed enough to realize that I had just led a chase around the outdoor dining room.
I started laughing and then my husband started laughing, too. We laughed so hard I forgot how hot it was.Now, if I can only figure out a way to factor into that real feel temperature the speed at which a diner scurries around a patio with a husband and a waiter in her wake.