Miami Bitch

I don't really get Miami. I love palm trees and blue water and warm wind; sure. I also like an easy long run along the beach; I love it when one hears Spanish as much as English, and I quite like the dignified women who help you in stores; and how they say 'Jew' instead of 'You'. But there are some places that just don't make you happy, and Miami Beach is one of them. I tried to put my finger on it, and I think it is because between the vicious air conditioning (Thomas is known to have covered his skinny frame in a wool turtleneck before facing a sushi restaurant), and the boob jobs, it is a depressing snapshot. It's just so uninspiring. The population seems focused on little more than displaying their body parts at all times; even though not every one is, lets say, "conventionally beautiful". I have seen a fat, 60 year old woman in high waisted lycra leggings and a jog bra, ride by with her gray hair billowing behind her; I have seen a woman with legs in the exact shape of drumsticks, but unlike a real chicken, the thighs were covered in cellulite. She also happened to be displaying them proudly in a micro jean mini skirt-it looked like a denim napkin was in her lap, and she forgot her pants.  On Ocean drive, you are accosted by hostesses who suggest you eat in their restaurant with cocktails served out of a fish bowl: not fish bowl sized glasses, but an actual fish bowl with straws. There are lots of women, post fish bowl, with things to say- things they need to scream across the street. I had a Spring break too- in fact, I am in a very rare club of people who were kicked out of Senor Frogs. Do you know how wild you have to be, to find yourself on the curb in Cabo San Lucas? But since then I've moved on. Why aren't they moving on? 

We are staying someplace called the Setai- an Asiany vibe, very pretty restaurant, and our room is on the 30th floor. We look north, towards Mar-a-Lago, a name that Chelsea Handler says sounds like a water park that was closed down due to a water borne STD infestation. 

The crowd here seems to like to express themselves on the front of their shirts: " I went to Miami Bitch!" or "You looked better on line"; or "No one knows I am a Lesbian".  I love the below headline from the Miami Herald (a real newspaper by the way)...kind of says it all really. Butt surgery is the rage, as is that horrible lip pumping. It makes me really think the end might be closer than we think. What are the aliens going to say about those lips??

Thomas and I have become even bigger nerds in reaction to the Miami crowd. We dress for dinner in sweaters and long pants due to the cold (in case you think I am exaggerating-an elderly woman next to us had a jacket wrapped around her head). Then we had a long discussion on the walk home about the rules/etiquette/ protocol of crossword puzzles. The mini daily ones in the Times are my new obsession (they take just a few minutes and a little piano song plays when you complete it). My father used to do them in pen....as Bill Clinton supposedly did; some people think pencil is good enough; I will occasionally ask Thomas what the fourth most spoken language in South Africa is, but would never Google it, unless I were giving up. My point is, we all have our own moral compass as it relates to Crossword puzzles, and I wanted to know if there were an official rule book. So we google it and find of course Will Shortz has been interviewed on this very subject. He says you can do whatever you want: "it's your crossword" . That is of course ridiculous-everyone knows God is looking while you crossword. 

Anyway, back to Miami- The good news is anything goes. And I mean anything. Obese man in wheel chair with dog resting on the top of his blubber like a hood ornament? check. Wear a bikini while walking at 80 years old? sleep on the sidewalk? check check. Here is total 100% self acceptance...it's kind of wonderful. But also so very tiring. 

It makes you want to hide in your high rise with a crossword; that or go to Cuba. 

(Today was some sort of Gay pride festival- or maybe that's what they call Sunday here. In any case, no one does it like Miami Beach. Below a few of my new friends. I told Frederick I think the guy below went to Andover.)

I love imagining what the founding fathers would make of this...

Getting pumped for the PTA meeting