SOUTHERN EXPOSURE: WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION IN KEY WEST, FLA.

The sun set orange over a steel-gray ocean, wispy clouds looking like pink and red watercolor paint strokes swept in a half-moon shape away from the descending orb.

A path of jumping yellow light blazed from the horizon to the edge of the boardwalk. Despite the pain of the light, I couldn't help but look at everything.

Behind me was an agonizingly thin man with a receding hair line drinking lighter fluid and spitting balls of fire from his mouth. Before his final stunt, which required him to take about a half-liter of fluid into his throat, he told the spectators that with his final words he wanted them to remember to "follow your dreams, I did."

This was Saturday night in Key West, Fla., where indescribable beauty goes hand-in-hand with unimaginable oddity. And this is where I spent a portion of my abbreviated summer vacation.

I had gone to visit friends for an extended -- and expensive -- weekend back in my home state. Even while growing up in Florida I never spent a huge amount of time in the Keys. I'd been missing out.

Key West turned out to be the shining, off-color gem in the crown of the most successful vacation I've ever taken.

My friends, Steve and Victoria, a married couple I've known since we all attended the University of Florida together, had invited me down to Fort Lauderdale for a long weekend. They'd been working hard and thought we could all use a break. The offer was accepted, even though I knew the consequences of taking such a chunk out of my normal operating expenses.

A bill collector named Mr. Proberg has been making regular calls to my home and work since I began preparing for the trip.

To some "natives" of Key West (very few people are actually born and raised anywhere in Florida) the sunset is the axle their wheels revolve around. They gather at the piers and celebrate with bongo drums and dancing, banana smoothies and jugglers.

A crowd of about 100 people milled about the concrete pier behind me that evening, alternately cheering for the fire-eater and standing in silent appreciation of the greater spectacle taking place over the ocean.

It wasn't easy to ignore the revelry as I sat on the edge of the pier near the southwest end of the island. Ignore them I did though, I had too much on my mind.

Yes, I was weighed down with thought. I was seriously pondering the depth and temperature of the water (and if I could get away with jumping in), the fact that two of Florida's football teams had a logo change this year and what it would be like to see this sunset from the air.

If that wasn't enough, a small ski boat drifted by with a woman wearing a thong bikini sitting in it. Instantly my thoughts shifted to the philosophical significance of the thong bottom. Why is it that some women will adjust the thin strip of fabric that covers about a quarter-inch of their behind when moving it accomplishes nothing? The world may never know.

Yes, burdened with thought. Luckily every thought in my head was of such little consequence and significance that they drifted through without leaving that annoying resonance of impetus that most important thoughts will do.

I did not feel motivated to act in any way on my thoughts. That was what I was hoping to accomplish that weekend -- pure reflection and mindless acceptance of all that went on around me.

Another aspect of the vacation I won't soon forget is a brief encounter with a Czechoslovakian woman in an art gallery featuring bronze sculptures of whales and dolphins. Tall and black haired, I'll always think of her accent, smoldering eyes and how she was introduced as "Natasha, from Boris and Natasha on the Rocky and Bullwinkle Show."

Those are the types of memories I'll take from Key West.

David Angier is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.