I had been to Miami once before for my friend Joel's destination birthday. That time, we stayed in South Beach and it was fantastic. Even though a love affair (because I am fancy, that's what I call my dating episodes) was breaking down at the very moment of my trip, I still had just an awesome time. Mostly it was because of the other people at the destination birthday party, but partly, it was the place.
Every place has its own look and feel—we all know this. But when you like a place, its feel and look take on a resonance that feels strangely profound. When we drove across the bridge to get to Miami Beach (where we stayed), that look and feel and smell all came flooding back, and I was anxious that Beloved (who had never been) would experience it as much as I did.
MiamiMiamiMiami. Where do I start? The art deco mess. The neon. The fake breasts. The sun. The warmth. The outfits.
Being a breast girl, I'll start with the fake breasts. I was terrible at spotting them, but Beloved was excellent. "There," he'd say, then, "there, there, and there." I'd be scanning his line of vision to see if I could figure out what he was talking about, and boy, did I ever. Magnificent. Scary. Artful.
Do you, perchance, have anything in your closet left over from the '80s? Pull it out and put it on! Too tight? There is no such thing. Too loud? Don't be absurd. And pair whatever you have with the highest heels you can find—I'm not talking regular high heels, I'm talking about the shoes you pass by in the shops and say to your friend, "who the fuck can walk in those?" Women in Miami, that's who. When they EXERCISE.
You will get great service in Miami. It may be due to the economic downturn, but everyone is so nice. And they are genuinely grateful for tips. So refreshing, amongst the fake breasts.
If you're into cars, you will love Miami. And if you're not (like me), you'll still be enthralled. Lamborghinis, Ferrari (is that plural already?), and Bentleys abound—as well as many other vehicles the like of which you won't see anywhere else.
People watching is incomparable. Women wearing clothes two sizes too small, men strutting around, sans shirts and chest hair, older men with very young women, men dressed as women, women dressed like empresses. It is all there. But in a different way than you'd find in New Orleans. It's MIAMI.
Oh, and the food is great, too. Seafood (which I guess is safe now?), Cuban fare—damn good grub.
All this, my friends, I experienced all this in one short weekend, and most of the time we spent on the beach, while our server Fred gallantly fetched things for us, like frozen grapes (my favorite).
Miami cures what ails you in January (or February), or ever!
<Cue Miami Vice theme song...and recall how the bongo drums were in cadence to that woman's bouncing breasts...you remember...>
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