It is said that when early Spanish explorers first set foot on the Island, they found its shores littered with skeletal remains. They named the place Cayo Hueso (Island of Bones). Eventually, the name was Anglicized to Key West.

Key West, which is located only 90 miles from Cuba, is the southernmost city in the continental U.S. It is quite detached from the mainland -- literally and figuratively. The island (AKA Conch Republic) actually declared its independence from the U.S. for a few days in 1982 and requested foreign aid. The tour guide who's driving your trolley is likely to be a former stockbroker from New York who now appreciates a dollar tip and hasn't been off the island in three years. There is a nightly sunset celebration and even a beach for dogs.

A majority of the island's 25,000 inhabitants derive their living from tourism. Visitors come to enjoy the island's restaurants, shops and bars; and hear about its famous residents and rich history. A variety of festivals are held throughout the year, but nothing rivals Halloween -- Fright Night on Bone island.

Halloween in Key West has been stretched into Fantasy Fest, a weeklong celebration featuring food, beer, entertainment and a variety of costumed events. The week culminates with the Fantasy Fest Parade, which is viewed by more than 60,000 wacky spectators.

How did the Cigar Guys wind up at this madness? The truth is, we got some rock bottom prices on a couple of inside cabins on Royal Caribbean's Sovereign of the Seas. It's a beautiful ship with an upscale cigar lounge. We figured we'd do the usual routine on the boat - cigars, gambling and some serious eating - and then go watch the parade for an hour or two.

We got on line for the embarkation check-in in Miami. Two drag queens got on line behind us. They were carrying life preservers that said "Ecstasy". At that moment, we realized that this was not going to be your typical cruise.

It turned out that much of Fantasy Fest extended to the ship. Every tall woman with large hands and/or big feet was suspect. Bill would not go to the disco for fear of a ladies choice. We sat down at the pool one night and found ourselves sitting between Cleopatra and the Village People.

Despite the uniqueness of the cruise, Bill was his usual self at dinner. He ordered the entire menu each night. He tipped the classical string ensemble five bucks to play "The Devil Goes Down to Georgia". He amused the wine steward with a fake thumb that lights up and the Maitre D' asked to borrow his extendable fork.

"I like you. You're a funny guy. You make me laugh," said our young Bosnian waiter who probably had not had a whole lot to laugh about while growing up in his homeland.

Bill really didn't hear him. He was busy trying to replace the silverware with plastic knives and forks before the busboy returned. It was like traveling with an unruly child.

On Halloween, we headed into town. Much of the downtown was closed to traffic to accommodate the crowds. The bars were all decorated with tombstones, spider webs and similar props. Adult trick-or-treaters promenaded up and down Duval Street. A popular costume among young women consisted of bikini thongs and body paint. Period. We thought we had died and gone to heaven.

We headed towards Sloppy Joe's Bar. Sloppy Joe's is a favorite of tourists. Ernest Hemingway used to smoke, drink, gamble and brawl there. At closing, he would find his way home by fixing his sights on a lighthouse located across the street from his 19th century Spanish colonial house.

A woman stopped to seek our assistance. Her cigar had gone out and she was having trouble lighting it again.

"I'll help you." Bill said as he held out his Prometheus.

The woman jumped when she saw the pistol-like lighter.

"What's the matter?" Bill asked.

"I'm from Miami," she replied. "When someone points something like that at me, I either put up my hands or I run."

We laughed and asked her to pose for a picture of the three of us smoking cigars in front of sloppy Joe's.

We told her that we'd put it in our column.

"I can't," she said. "I'm supposed to be on disability and if they see me partying here, I'll be in big trouble."

Not wanting to spoil her party, we said goodbye and headed off to visit a succession of bars including Fat Tuesdays, Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville Café and Crabby Dick's. After we had our fill of spirits, we sought out some cigar shops.

In the late 1 800's, Cuban immigrants fleeing Spanish oppression brought the cigar industry to Key West. It flourished until the 1920's when Tampa became the cigar capital of Florida. However. You can still find a number of shops where cigars are rolled on the premises. For those of you who like flavored cigars, try the Conch Republic Cigar Factory.

We smoked a couple of Baccarat Churchills that we picked up at a place called King's Treasure Tobacco on Duval Street. (Bill was intrigued by the playing cards on the band.) These Hondurans offered a sweet, medium bodied smoke but the ash looked like someone had planted a load in the end of the cigar.

The parade started about seven o'clock. It was a spectacular procession of floats, ghouls, aliens, drag queens and assorted characters of indeterminate identity. As the last float passed, the spectators simply joined the parade putting their costumes and epidermal art on display. It was truly a memorable event.

The day after the parade, the ship set sail for Coco Cay, a small, undeveloped coral island in the Bahamas. Legend has it that a pirate named Blade buried treasure there before being killed by Blackbeard. We found no treasure - just a peaceful beach.

At noon, the cruise line provided live Caribbean music and a buffet. We filled our plates, reclined on the beach and listened to the band. They were playing a Caribbean arrangement of "Life Goes On".

The wives and I glanced over at Bill. A plate was carefully balanced on his stomach and a burger was in each hand. Everything was motionless except for his head and his hands. He was eating in time with the music.

"O ba dee, o ba dah, o ba dee ee, la la la la, life goes on." the band sang.

Bill was amazing. He never missed a beat or a bite. People stopped to watch. They had probably never witnessed synchronized eating set to music before.

We decided to top off lunch with some cigars. We selected a couple of Dominican Montecristos. Despite being in the Bahamas, there were no Habanos to be had on the island. It didn't matter. The Dominicans were exceptionally well made and offered a slow, satisfying, medium to full bodied smoke.

Some fellows on the beach were selling Coco Locos; a tropical drink made with seven different types of juice and alcohol. It turned out to be the perfect complement to the cigars. We spent the balance of the afternoon watching the surf and alternately sampling the drinks and the Montecristos.

It just doesn't get any better than this.

The Cigar Guys

P.S. It looks like the president has weathered this storm without our help. There are still two years left in his term, however. We may get another chance.

You can The Cigar Guys at: tbill@enter.net for any comments or questions.

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