Steve, Your post brought back memories. When I was 20 years old, in the winter of1970-71, my boyfriend and I lived for 3 months in a v.w.van that we parked on a beach near Duval St. There was a restaurant near there called Tony's Fish Market, where we both worked. Other refugees from the north joined us there periodically- we had a kind of a gypsy camp (although we didn't have open fires) and would cook some great group meals on our coleman stoves. Finally the cops ran us out of there, and we went back to Boston. I think that was the Key West that Jimmy Buffett sang about.