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.