Miami - Day 1

I arrived in Miami where I was to stay at the Best Miami Hotel in South Miami. It didn't start out that great. Apparently, there are TWO 71st Streets in Miami. One near the tip of South Beach and the other in South Miami, which — despite the concurring names — do not both reside in the south of Miami. South Beach should really be called East Beach cause it's as far East of the city you can go and ain't so much in the south of Miami that it should be called South Beach. South Miami is a 20 min freeway drive south of South Beach. So I was in the north of South Beach which is in the East of Miami which is 20 min north of South Miami where I was staying at the Best Miami Hotel. Confused? I was. I booked the room on Hotels.com and got a good rate. I thought, 'Wicked! A decent hotel for a decent price. Can't beat that.' I parked outside and went inside to check in. The concierge was an Alex Rodriguez-looking dude — and I'm not stereotyping Latino's in Miami, this dude was a doppleganger. I even asked him to hit me a few dingers; he declined. The lobby was beautiful at a glance: marble floors and walls. Very nice. Naturally, that all went to hell within five seconds. I was told I would be charged an extra two bucks per night for a safe in my room. I said I wouldn't use the safe. He said it didn't matter. He admitted it was stupid. I thought, '...then don't charge me. Stupid is as stupid does. Stupid.' Then he asked if I would be parking. Yes, of course, I said. He says, 'That'll be seven bucks a night.' I thought about finding A'Rod's baseball bat and cracking it over the desk instead of asking him to hit a few dingers, but thought better of it. I paid up. I really had no choice. Then, feeling hungry after wasting a good hour driving in the wrong direction then back (through traffic, no less) I went for a walk to find a meal. I wasn't too keen to spend away, so I settled on a microwave dinner at a grocery store which I took back to the Best Hotel Ever In South Miami and nuked the the thing, where I ate in my room. I also bought chocolate milk, which is less like chocolate milk in the USA and more like Chalkolate Milk. The meal was saved by a bag of cherry jelly beans which were amaaaaaazing. I went down to the Greatest Hotel Of Miami for my included contintental breakfast the next day to find it the lamest continental breakfast I ever saw. Hell, the continental breakfast at the shitetown Mesa Inn in Grand Rapid, Colorado where I froze to death was better. This was a joke. I thought about hitting my safe on a linedrive off of A-Rod's head, but thought better of it. Looking to explore the town, I asked the other concierge how to get to where I wanted to go. His thick Latin accent nearly killed me, so I nodded a bunch and took the words I understood, being 'Government Center' and 'Flager Street' and left the Grandest Miami Marigold Hotel to explore. Destination: the aforementioned South Beach in East Miami. I bought a day transit pass (the only good thing that happened all day) and commuted downtown to the Government Center. Took me a few minutes of following signs, retracing my steps back to signs and following a new sign to find the train station on Flagler Street to go to South Beach. I took the 120 bus and got off on Washington. South Beach is chaos. I mean, popular chaos...except it's just a beach. A really long, really busy beach. See for yourself: Oceanside Drive which borders it is nothing but a really long, really busy street of restaurants. If you walk on that side of the street, you're barraged every 12 feet by a new staffer asking, 'Would you like to sit down for a meal?' or some variation of that. I think one person said, 'You're cute. Want a burger?' I thought, 'You're obnoxious. Want more botox?' One fantastic addition to South Beach is a series of open workout areas with odd devices for public use. Imagine a playground for juicemonkeys and gay guys. So it's like, a playground for the fabulously vain. And make no mistake: it was all guys. I kid you not. I would have snapped a picture if not for fear of my head getting crushed or my fashion sense being criticized. After a series of other events — which included witnessing a slack liner (yeeeea, Dovnah!) doing some badass work along the beach and a ritzy outdoor mall — I decieded to head back to the Wonderful Miami Emporium Hotel on the 120. I should have learned my lesson years ago from the 72 circle rout ein Calgary, but clearly I'm not that on the ball. I hopped on the 120 after an icecream vendor told me it was a circle route and I figured, screw it, if it is a long circle route I'll just get to see the city. Except, no, it isn't a circle route. It took me to the north of Miami then went out of service. I had to figure out another bus to get me back to the Government Center. Son of a... The stress of the day was offset by some Pollo Tropical, a fast food chain that serves Caribbean chicken and wings. We're talking big portions. For 8 bucks. While satisfying, it made me start extrapolating in my head the amount that people must eat there and how much goes uneaten. You've got massively obese people in America and massively starving people elsewhere. Pretty unpleasant excess. I hate Miami.

Keys: The Finale

It's been exactly a week since I left the Florida Keys. The time since then has not ceased to slow down. My last day in the Keys was Wednesday, Feb. 20. I spent the morning hanging out with a hostelite I had met down there. A quick note: want to know why I hesitate around people who ask for favors? Cause of guys like this. The dude was staying at the hostel and was going to be kicked out cause he couldn't pay for any more nights, but another hostelite with a kind heart lent him money so he could stay. Nice enough. Well, I befriended the two of them and eventually hung out with this guy a few times. On my last day, literally that morning, he broached the topic out of the blue of me lending him money. Now, here's the thing. He spent days telling his sob story about why he was there and broke. The kind of story one would feel sympathetic towards. I did. Family troubles, crazy ex-wife, took the kids, etc. As we hung out, he dropped what now feels like strategically placed stories about getting his taxes back that Friday and having to keep them from his ex-wife. He mentioned how he would pay back the other hostelite three-fold for her gesture. He even pulled out his smartphone (yea, a smartphone...oh, he also had an electronic cigarette...nice way to divvy up those finances) and showed me his tax receipt as, 'I don't like people to think I'm a bullshitter.' It was an awkward moment. After that, I felt enough that I needed to get away from him for a bit to think and to write a tad, so I excused myself, told him to meet back at the hostel and went to a pier. While on the pier, I ran across this sight: Some asshole had caught a baby hammerhead shark and left it for dead on the pier. Kind of a jerk move, unfortunately to my benefit as I got this photo. After the pier I went back to the hostel. I had promised a ride to the other nice hostelite that day on my way to Miami, so I waited for my roadie pal. The other guy was there waiting. Thinking it shameless of me to not at least help the guy out considering his circumstance, I lent him $35. Not a lot, but that would feed a frugal person for a solid four or five days. He was grateful. Told me he'd pay me back when he got his taxes. I wasn't expecting it, but he said the words, so I was like, hey man, whatever you feel is necessary. Needless to say, I haven't heard a word from the guy since nor has the other hostelite. Friday came and asked her if she'd heard form him, 'Nope.' She didn't know, but he had told me he was going to pay her back. She had told him not to. SO when she said she hadn't heard, I knew right away something was up. His story felt too good. *sigh* I hope I'm not just being an asshole. Maybe something came up. Maybe it didn't. Either way, experience is the best teacher and I've experienced a disproportionate number of money-lending that resulted in my feeling the fool.

Rewind: JFK, Lee Harvey and me

As I passed through Dallas, I made sure to catch the scene of the crime. Here it is, for all to see: The Dealey Plaza display of how the entire assassination went down. A total artsy shot of a tattered American flag overlooking the plaza. The mysterious man in the grassy knoll...so wonderfully coincidental that someone was standing there when i got this shot. The window from where Lee Harvey fired on JFK. This guy may have done it... A view from the bridge which would have been looking down on the scene, gives a great vantage of the size and scale of the entire scene. The view from the knoll. Pretty crazy how close it is.

The Keys 2

I awoke on Sunday morning with a wonderfully raging hangover as to be expected. My new pal Dean and I decided to go for breakfast and went to Denny's (which has spectacular breakfast deals). In a wonderful paradox, my main course of pancakes cost me two bucks yet a side order of bacon cost me 3.50....the first time I have ever witnessed a side order being a greater cost than the main meal. Wild. Afterwards, I decided to bust out my bike. The previous morning I had made the trek to a local bikeshop and bought a lock so now I was set to explore the island via cycle. WHat a great idea to bring a bike. It made the island much more accessible. I followed the perimeter of the island on the south side on Roosevelt, which is essentially an oceanview drive. It was spectacular. Except my trip was cut short halfway when bike issues forced me to u-turn and head back. The back wheel was warping because a pair of rear-bike wires were broken, thus allowing the frame of the wheel to warp out of shape. The tire was rubbing against the kickstand and looked like it could potentially cause an air leak. I figured I would use a car tire allen-wrench and take the kickstand off, but upon returning to my car, I discovered the sizes did not match. So I removed on of my patented wrist elastics and jimmied the kickstand in a way that kept it from rubbing against the wheel. This solution allowed me to use the bike the remainder of the trip. Damn, it felt good to be a gangsta.

The Keys

I arrived in Key West on Friday afternoon. Google said it was going to be an eight hour drive. It wasn't even close. It took me about 5 and a half hours. Stupid Google — that stock price is going to plummet. As soon as you get south of Homestead near the tip of mainland Florida you realize you're heading into a unique place. Key West is an archipelago, so you're essentially driving on coral reefs for 100 miles. I ended up chatting with a couple of my hostel roomies, Dean and Sean, and we decided to go down Duval Street for the night. Dean is an Australian who worked as an accountant, hated his job and quit to travel the world (like me!). He's been on the road for five months and been all over the place partying. He says he's spent close to 40 grand. My heart hurt. Meanwhile, Sean has been travelling about for a few weeks and is headed up to Salt Lake City! He mentioned how he was kicked out the same hostel I stay at last time he went. Crazy. Duval Street is wild. We got ourselves a drink beforehand, sitting inside a liquor store eating chicken and drinking then slipped down the road into an Irish bar. Somehow, we lost Dean cause he was chasing down a cougar (and this morning he tells me, 'Yea, she was 43...but she was alright!'). Sean and I made due, listening to the live music and drinking Guiness. The singer played Wild Rover so I got a kick out of being the only person in the bar who knew the words and would yell, 'Ride up yer kilts!' as da boys used to do at Shillaleghs. I encouraged Sean to heckle the singer with me and ask the guy to play Dirty Old Town, since it WAS an Irish bar. He ignored us. We wandered down the road and jumped in and out of bars for a while, getting turned down by a big black bouncer at one place for being too intoxicated (true) but unwittingly ending up inside by a different entrance so when we left by the original entrance, he grabbed a hold of us and started ranting about his coworkers letting people in like us who he said couldn't go inside. Beautiful. We just stood there and played dumb. I was the drunkest person on Duval. For sure. I don't remember much after that except falling into bed and throwing in my ear plugs. That as they say, was that.

Before Sunset

It's been two weeks since my arrival in Florida. My goodness, time flies. It is a peculiar phenomenon when one thinks, 'What I could do with two weeks of nothing.' and then two weeks of nothing later, you wonder where it all went. I have spent my days reading and writing, lounging by the pool — which is, I'm sorry to gloat, as awesome as it sounds. I have worked on some of my screenplays and even began work on a television series (please, none of that basic cable garbage. HBO-style, baby). It is a tough pursuit because so many people think themselves screen writers, one can never be sure their work is good. Screw 'em. I find it soothing. It provides me a creative outlet and I feel enthusiastic for hours after developing a great idea. Since my uncle arrived I have taken up tennis and think I may stick with it. Apparently I got a wicked awesome forehand. I swing it two-handed which apparently is unusual. However, it feels quite natural to swing the racket and chase down shots. It requires good cardio, good footwork, concentration and quick reflexes — my specialties! I am excited for my trip to the Keys. I leave Friday and spend four days there. I plan on exploring as much of the place as I can. To sign off, a beautiful picture of the sunset on a balmy, spring night in Florida.

The Beach

The beach. I don't think I could ever get tired of the two great wonders of the world: mountains and oceans. I'll have to get back down to the beach a few more times. Unfortunately the day I went was balmy for twenty minutes and overcast for an hour and a half. Either way it was great. Some dramatics have occurred which have altered my plans. Originally, the plan was to relax in Florida at my grandmother's for the month of February before taking off South for the Florida Keys. Well, the Keys and I will be hanging out sooner than later. I am being kicked out. Perhaps it is not as harsh as that, but I am being gently told to leave for a couple of weeks. The grandmother in her later years has developed exaggerated personality traits she that at one time were inconveniences that are now full-blown obstacles. Oh well. Looks like I will heading down to the Florida Keys sooner than I anticipated. Boooyaaaa!

Pictures

I thought I would post a series of my favorite pictures from my drive across the USA. Picture one is on Saturday, Jan. 26 as I drove from Salt Lake to Grand Junction, Colorado. I believe it's the 191 South near the town of Price.

Picture two is on Sunday, Jan. 27 from the I50 through Colorado en route from Grand Junction to Denver. You can't really tell but there is a river on the right which means the elevation is not too bad at that point.

Picture three is not too far after picture two. You eventually clear the canyon beside the river and the rock changes to this spectacular red. These formations on the left of the highway (north) while to the right (south) was mostly just hills.

This was taken on Jan. 28 in Texas. I thought, no wonder Americans call it 'God's Country'

I am driving in Texas through a town called Childress along the US 287 en route to Dallas-Fort Worth. All I remember thinking is 'The American and the Texas State flag flying high...beside a McDonald's. How American. '

Cowboys Stadium in Dallas. A blight upon the land. The picture doesn't even do it justice just how disgustingly massive this thing is. I could literally hear Jerry Jones giggling, 'Greed it good.'

Yes, that truck is resting on the side of the trailer. Yes, that truck was not secured by any straps or harnesses. Yes, it was stupid to drive close enough directly behind it to get a picture. Yes, it was worth it.

No words needed.

Jan. 29. This is what is called abuse. It was bizarre, I actually saw $$$ bouncing behind me on the road like a Super Mario game or something when the odometer clicked to 70,000 km.

Jan. 30 in Gainesville, FL. Go Gators!!!

An East coast sunset to end a badass roadie.

Florida

It's amazing what having nothing to do can do to a blog — even with nothing to do except blog, I have left it unattended since my arrival in Jupiter. I arrived on Wednesday after my shortest driving day since leaving Salt Lake City. I stayed the evening before in Tallahassee (or Talla-nasty, as Gators fans call it) and my hotel certainly lived up to the nickname. The clothes I worked smelt of smoke until I arrived. My first stop was Gainesville where I grabbed lunch at The Swamp with former Stampeders coworker Danielle DeLuca. I was given a guided tour of the stadium, the trophy room (Tebow! Tebow! Tebow!) and the campus. The highlight? A fraternity house had recently been put on suspension because three of its students were conducting a drug business from within its walls. Ah, university. Since then, I have done a lot of reading, writing and relaxing in Jupiter. Visits to the pool have been often and long — the ideal place to kick back with a book. Naturally, I have also made friends with the neighbors kids, Ryan, 11, and AJ, 9. I don't know what it is about me — the height? the silliness? — but kids always want to hang off me. Cool kids, though. Ryan is a star baseball player and AJ is a star BMXer (ranked second in the state). What's better? They're Chicago Bears fans. Smart kids (or masochistic, depends). Going to watch the Super Bowl with the neighbors. Good day to you all.