Written By:

Elizabeth Jolin

Current Rock of Residence:

Islamorada, Florida Keys

Island Girl Since:

Almost certainly 1995 (time is so fluid in the sun...)

Originally Hails From:


It was the maze of corridors leading to and from her Washington, D.C. apartment that originally sparked the odd sensation in Elizabeth – she was turning into a rat, along with the entire adult suit-wearing population scurrying around inside the beltway.

In her quest to escape the inevitable downward spiral of furtive scrambling, cheese-searching, maze-running doom, she set off to find the meaning of life in the most direct manner possible: she bought a Greyhound bus ticket.

Despite having seen the sun no more than ten times during all her years living in D.C., she recognized paradise when she was deposited on US1 in Islamorada. The blinding white heat ricocheted off everything, suspending the cloud of dust belched from the departing bus. Covered in grit, she chanced to fall almost immediately into the welcoming (albeit greasy and alarmingly hairy) arms of Hatman who offered to sell her a waterfront home for $400.

The salt air, the island breeze, and the smell of coconuts (which was likely last night’s rum emitting from Hatman’s pores) had her zombified. She jumped at the opportunity, joyously overlooking the lengthy list of caveats that came with the rock bottom price.

The waterfront home turned out to be a houseboat, anchored in the middle of the Florida Bay devoid of anything that would make a boat a boat (except for the army of cockroaches that were likely assisting in the vessel floatation), or a home a home. Elizabeth was so enthralled with home ownership that lack of electricity, running water, head, furniture, or bed were trifling! She instantly fell in love with island living and has not looked back (though she has occasionally looked sideways to covet someone’s air-conditioning).

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