I know, I know, I disappeared.
And though I am a little bit sorry, like the kind of sorry you are when you accidently lock your husband out of the house in the wee morn in his boxer shorts (because you are a neurotic door locker afraid of wolves) and then you get in the shower and can’t hear his cries of distress and see his sad little moans and shivers from the cold. And he’s mad, really mad and you genuinely try to look sorry but inside you are laughing so hard pee is trickling down your leg.
So, it’s sort of like that, not a real big sorry, because I seriously enjoyed myself on my vacation and I can’t wipe the cheesy smile off my face, but I did miss updating my blog and feel a teeny tiny bit sorry for being a flake, sort of.
But hey, now that you have forgiven me… let me tell you about our AMAZING cruise adventure to the Caribbean islands, rainforests and beyond!
But it’s going to have to be in segments, because I am long winded and have cool pics to share.
-Miami-Day 1
After the longest known flight from here to there, compliments of frequent flier miles on Alaska airlines, (Orange County to Seattle then direct to Miami…a mere 8 hours of air time with another three hours of layover), we reached the sultriest place on earth-Miami. I could have flown to Europe in that amount of time, but I’m not complaining dear.
Because it was a red-eye and I suffer from severe apoplectic plane anxiety, I didn’t sleep at all, not a wink, despite taking an Ambien. Sadly enough, it just made me sleepier and still paranoid. Try to imagine me eyeballing potential terrorists, whispering scripture verses, random body tremors, laying hands on the plane and anointing it with oil…get the picture?
(And yes, I am aware I some minor have control issues)
But despite my freakish fears, we miraculously survived and our dearest Honeymoon besties, whom we met on our Mediterranean cruise, Paula and Donnie picked us up at the airport and whisked us off to their beautiful home on the barrier island of Key Biscayne.
After feeding us breakfast, we climbed into their souped up golf cart and whizzed around the island. With low profile tires and a modified engine it can reach speeds of forty miles per hour. I had to hold on tight!
We dined at the Key Biscayne Yacht Club for lunch, and then went for a tour of the island, popped our toes in the warm Atlantic Ocean and then headed to South Beach for people watching and sushi.
So here is my impression of Miami-possibly skewed by exhaustion, organic vodka and lemonade, three Starbucks and my artistic tendency to exaggerate, but this is what I took with me.
Everywhere you look there is water-ocean, lakes, swamps, and canals. I’m guessing it’s probably because the city needs an entire ocean to itself cool off. It’s that hot, and it’s not just the temperature I’m referring too. Skyscrapers perch on the edge of the ocean, interspersed with grandiose mansions, cruise ships, boats and about a gazillion people all jumbled together simmering in this torpid heat.
And it’s not just hot, it’s stupid hot. It feels like a hundred degrees with a thousand wet dogs licking me. The heat is a tangible thing here. It encompasses me. I feel languid and sensual with little rivers of sweat running down my back and chest.
I am overdressed, for Miami standards, in my modest floral sundress. I should have worn the bikini (just kidding!!!).Women walk around practically naked in booty shorts with stilettos and miniskirts and the men are dark, flamboyant and metro. It’s culturally diverse; to say the least and I can’t tell who is what. It’s like the colors of people merge into a South American, Cuban, Latin, black and white hodgepodge of tan bodies and samba music.
South Beach is like hot sauce to the senses.. You can see it, smell it and feel the intensity. I am overwhelmed by exposed skin, the scent of sweat laced with spicy cologne and stares from both men and women. People check each other out here. It’s hedonistic, highly sexual and a little scary to me, like a jungle of wild untamed animals.
I keep my eyes down and follow my husband like a mouse, scared of my own fascination with the scene playing out in front of my eyes. I keep looking for Don Johnson around every corner and the music from Miami Vice plays in my head.
When Paula introduces my husband Tim and explains he is a pastor, people here stand up straighter and start confessing. Tim looks at me with mirth in his eyes and that “oh boy here we go” smile.
A guy in Starbucks buys him a drink. Paula says it’s the Jesus thing, because Tim is so open and relational. They are standing in line talking about patience and laughing. I love how my husband can turn any conversation into a ministry moment, but, I am more skeptical and think the guy might be gay trying to hit on my man, so I stand my ground and make myself known. “Pastor boy is mine,” I tell him with my eyes.
We board the ship tomorrow, headed for the Cayman’s, Isla Roatan, Belize, and Cozumel; but for tonight, it’s all about the magic of old friends, the thrill of Miami heat, and the longing to escape our life so we can better appreciate it when we do return.
And ultimately, isn’t that what vacation is all about?
