Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Floridadoodahday
As some of you may know, we flew across the country to spend Thanksgiving week in Florida.
My initial impression: Like California, but flatter. And more humid. With Bugs and lizards.
So, as is the case with us we took a red eye out East which resulted in an early morning landing in Miami. For that night we had a room at some hotel in the Art Deco district in South Beach. AHHH South Beach. But more of that later.
We had LOTS of time to kill, so we had a couple of options: Drive across the Everglades to her parents house in Marco Island (on the Gulf Coast) or figure something else to do. For some crazy reason I had the idea in my craw that we should visit Key West. On the way we drove by the American Airlines arena where the had a KING KONG sized picture of Shaq with the title "DADDY'S COME HOME"...Just...Can't...Dig...It. In my brilliance I decide to take highway 1 which is very much like our very own PCH, lots of stops and the like, but with a dearth of "Oldie Oldsters". After seeing something like 40 Party City's on a 5 mile stretch we come to Florida's Turnpike (yes, that's what it's called, no number designation) and we jump in. We stop at an oulet, sleep, buy a belt so I won't be B.A.ing anyone and head out. The keys are sandbars that are connected by one highway. We didn't make it, hell, we only made it about 1/3 of the way, to a key named Islamorada. We found a wonderful fish (that's right, I said FISH) called Grouper, and contemplated some Gator. We stopped by a fair put on by a private school and got to hear a performance by the local kids as well as chat with a couple locals. Defeated by the drive we went back to Miami Beach in time to check into our SMOKING room.
Ah South Beach: We woke up at 9pm ready for the nightlife. Went to a wonderful 24 Cuban restaurant where Lee got to have her favorite Cuban plate: Plantains (fried banana) and we shared some Sangria. We proceded down to where the beautiful people play, hungover on 3 hours sleep over a 36 hr period. We witnessed traffic officers getting their feet broken, semi clothed women and men walking the strip, and way too many Hummer limo's than should be allowed. There was the final race of the NASCAR year in nearby Homestead, and a lot of the attendees were in town...I'm not saying they stood out, but they did. I searched for Puffy or J.Lo but to no avail, no capped ass tonight. What they say about the beaches there are true. Even with the cabanas closed, the deck chairs stacked and only the moon to light our way, the beach was beautiful. I can understand why people play there, I would too if my long lost trust fund is ever found. Yes we drove on "A1A" and immediately the immortal words of Rob Van Winkle rolled around in my head "Yo-- so I continued to A1A Beachfront Ave. Girls were hot wearing less than bikinis. Rockman lovers driving Lambourghinis. Jealous 'cause I'm out getting mine" Still trying to flush it out
More later....
My initial impression: Like California, but flatter. And more humid. With Bugs and lizards.
So, as is the case with us we took a red eye out East which resulted in an early morning landing in Miami. For that night we had a room at some hotel in the Art Deco district in South Beach. AHHH South Beach. But more of that later.
We had LOTS of time to kill, so we had a couple of options: Drive across the Everglades to her parents house in Marco Island (on the Gulf Coast) or figure something else to do. For some crazy reason I had the idea in my craw that we should visit Key West. On the way we drove by the American Airlines arena where the had a KING KONG sized picture of Shaq with the title "DADDY'S COME HOME"...Just...Can't...Dig...It. In my brilliance I decide to take highway 1 which is very much like our very own PCH, lots of stops and the like, but with a dearth of "Oldie Oldsters". After seeing something like 40 Party City's on a 5 mile stretch we come to Florida's Turnpike (yes, that's what it's called, no number designation) and we jump in. We stop at an oulet, sleep, buy a belt so I won't be B.A.ing anyone and head out. The keys are sandbars that are connected by one highway. We didn't make it, hell, we only made it about 1/3 of the way, to a key named Islamorada. We found a wonderful fish (that's right, I said FISH) called Grouper, and contemplated some Gator. We stopped by a fair put on by a private school and got to hear a performance by the local kids as well as chat with a couple locals. Defeated by the drive we went back to Miami Beach in time to check into our SMOKING room.
Ah South Beach: We woke up at 9pm ready for the nightlife. Went to a wonderful 24 Cuban restaurant where Lee got to have her favorite Cuban plate: Plantains (fried banana) and we shared some Sangria. We proceded down to where the beautiful people play, hungover on 3 hours sleep over a 36 hr period. We witnessed traffic officers getting their feet broken, semi clothed women and men walking the strip, and way too many Hummer limo's than should be allowed. There was the final race of the NASCAR year in nearby Homestead, and a lot of the attendees were in town...I'm not saying they stood out, but they did. I searched for Puffy or J.Lo but to no avail, no capped ass tonight. What they say about the beaches there are true. Even with the cabanas closed, the deck chairs stacked and only the moon to light our way, the beach was beautiful. I can understand why people play there, I would too if my long lost trust fund is ever found. Yes we drove on "A1A" and immediately the immortal words of Rob Van Winkle rolled around in my head "Yo-- so I continued to A1A Beachfront Ave. Girls were hot wearing less than bikinis. Rockman lovers driving Lambourghinis. Jealous 'cause I'm out getting mine" Still trying to flush it out
More later....
