Last week, I had a much-anticipated reunion with friends of mine from West Palm Beach. I was hosting the Breast Cancer Gala on 5 Oct., and thought it would be great if they could come along for the event that weekend and we could reminisce about old times.
Y’see, about 15 years ago, I had the pleasure of staying at a bed-and-breakfast in West Palm – the Palm Beach Hibiscus – where I met a brilliant bunch of characters. My ex-boyfriend, with whom I’d remained friends, was performing in ‘Looped’ – a new play, starring Valerie Harper – and it was being staged at the Cuillo Centre for the Arts. He, Valerie, and the rest of the small cast and crew were all staying at the Hibi (as we affectionately called it), so I flew up to stay too and see him in the show.
It was a fantastic few days, and Valerie was exactly as you would imagine her to be. She was fun, gracious and charming. She was also excellent in the part she played – so much so, that ‘Looped’ went to Broadway and she garnered a Tony nomination for her performance.
Beyond getting to know her a little, I fell in love with the Hibi. It was an historic building with multiple rooms, each with its own bed that was so high off the ground, you almost needed a trampoline to clear the mattress upon ascent. The garden, with small sets of tables and chairs dotted about, had beautiful flowers everywhere, and overlooking said garden was the covered bar. It was a long wooden structure, set on a raised deck attached to the house, with seating on either side, where resident ‘Palm Beachians’ would gather every evening.
Keith, the bartender (who was also a revered interior designer) was always well familiar with the regulars’ favourite tipples. There was Greg – an engineer – who spoke very little about his interesting background, but very lots on an endless range of other subjects. He had two massive glass tankards kept in the freezer behind the bar. One would come out, be filled to the brim with beer, and when that was emptied, it was washed and put back in the freezer to be replaced on the bar top with its twin.
Jack was a professional hair stylist with so much snap about him, it was hard to imagine any client arguing his plans for their hair. Just shuddup and siddown.
Joe was a designer-shoe sales expert – Carrie’s, from ‘Sex and the City’, dream best friend, and possibly the only person who owned more shoes than she did. He could spot a pair of last season’s Valentinos at 20 paces. David (nicknamed ‘Wavy Dave’ due to his head of soft curls) was a mild-mannered Canadian librarian with a quietly dry wit, and he might be sitting next to Evan – a very talented pianist and singer with a cherubic face.
Ronnie worked the luxury counter at an upscale department store and was always impeccably dressed, unlike Kenny – a street artist who could have been any age between 60 and 80, and who did odd jobs around the property for room and board. And then there was Missy – lovely, calm Missy who ran the joint and cared for a host of cats who had free rein of the property. Not only was she patient with the eclectic bunch of patrons who frequented the place, she embraced them. A heart transplant recipient from many years prior, she had decided to treat every day following her lifesaving operation as a gift, and she radiated warmth.
Before I left after the end of my long weekend in the company of Valerie et al, we all agreed that I would return to the Hibi and host karaoke there once a month or so. It became a trip I looked forward to immensely, reconnecting with my new friends there. And I took Cayman friends and family with me each time. They fell in love with the place too.
By the third time, there was a makeshift stage in place, and after dropping a hint that it was higher than the beds, on my fourth visit I found a set of incredibly dangerous steps built around a misshapen lump of concrete in place. The trick was not to drink too much or lean to the left when you ascended them.
On one trip, we just happened to be in town when the space shuttle was launching at night. I had no concept of what it was like to witness it shooting up to the sky. Even though it was about 150 miles away, the sight was incredible. On another, we’d all walked to nearby CityPlace, completely overindulged, and paid a pedicab guy an outrageous amount of money to transport us about 100 feet.
The karaoke evenings were often populated with performers from the local theatre company, so we’d have a terrific mix of songs being chosen, from classic musicals to The Rolling Stones. The regulars at the bar would mingle with guests staying at the B&B … they were magical nights.
Unfortunately, as often happens, all good things come to an end. The Hibi got sold, Missy moved to Atlanta, and the B&B finally closed its doors. I’ve been told that multi-storey buildings have popped up all around that area. The house is still there, but seems it will remain empty and a bit neglected until someone figures out what to do with it. I stayed in touch with people there over the years, and a few visited Cayman from time to time, but this year, I made it my mission to get us together for a weekend in Cayman. Joe, Missy, Keith and David were all able to make it, and it was so wonderful to catch up with them and share our memories of the Hibi.
I won’t lie, I do love my snazzy hangouts, but the Hibi reminded me of the old days in Cayman when there were bars like this dotted along Seven Mile, and up in North Side and East End, with a cavalcade of unique characters you could count on seeing each time you went there. What great days those truly were.
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