Monday, November 9, 2009
Miami, Florida
The thing I love about US Airways is that they never make anything easy; especially for their Dividend Preferred members. Because they KNOW that we are just suckers enough to keep coming back for more airline miles since we have nowhere else to go. Yesterday I had to drive all the way back to Raleigh from Charlotte, to get on a flight back to Charlotte today that connected to Miami. Why? B/c the US Airways direct flight from Charlotte was $70 bucks more than flying out of Raleigh. I really hate you, US Airways. By the time I got to the Miami airport, I remembered why I try to fly into Ft. Lauderdale, too, with all the crazy people connecting South America. Perhaps they’ve read what I thought of their countries in my book. At least in Ft. Lauderdale it’s just cruise passengers; here you’ve got cruise passengers and drug dealers trying to push dope through security.
Steering clear of everyone I hopped into a cab and headed straight to South Beach. Once I am there I notice that the palm trees are nearly sideways and turn on the news to find out there is a hurricane of sorts down in the Caribbean. FANTASTIC! I always do love coming to Miami when hurricanes hit. The only thing that could be better is if I was ON a cruise ship right now. I open up the windows to my hotel room to get the true ocean breeze, then toss on my running shoes and hit the SoBe running trail. The wind has calmed down some, but by the time I get done with a few miles my hair looks like it was in a bar brawl and lost. I leave the outskirts of SoBe and look for a Publix grocery store, venturing out to areas I’ve never been to before and find houses where people actually live. In all my times in Miami I’ve somehow only made it into bars and clubs, so the fact that people live here comes as a surprise and I hope to stumble upon JLo shopping for Cheerios with the twins. No such luck and I carry my bags back to the hotel where I realize I have no butter or olive oil to cook my chicken. Improvisation kicks in and I take a scoop of my strawberry yogurt, toss it in the Pyrex and 30 minutes later I have some sort of new dish I call dinner. I get busy with Monday Night Football and have the first relaxing evening to myself in months.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Miami, Florida
I have a love/hate relationship with SoBe. I LOVE the beach. I LOVE the water. I LOVE the sunshine. I HATE the men who work outside of the clubs and make me dress up like a hooker to get inside. Seriously, I know how to play the game…wear short skirts, make my boobs look big, etc, etc, but at some point in my life I have decided that I no longer need to whore myself out for a $20 cover charge. Let the young girls take over. Of all the places in the world, Miami is the worst. At least in Vegas they know who their audience is. In Miami the bouncers seem to think they are God and you are there to praise them. This trip I decide to sit the club nightlife out and just enjoy the beach.
So, today I instead to work on my tan. The hurricane like breezes have moved towards Louisiana and it is a perfect Southern Florida day. I take my beach towel outside and set up shop near some Europeans in their Speedo’s. Might as well have a good laugh while I’m at it. After several hours and a nice Coppertone feel, I head down to promote my book on Lincoln Road. The outside café’s are filled with rich people who have nothing else to do but listen to me self-promote and after two hours I feel like I’ve talked at least three people into downloading the chicken bus on Kindle.
As the afternoon comes to a close I throw the bathing suit back on, relax in the hot tub and put a movie on. Kind of a boring Tuesday night, but exactly what I need after a month of hiking in Utah and traveling back and forth from coast to coast.
Wednesday, November 12, 2009
Miami, Florida to Washington, DC
Veterans Day! Exiting onto the street I stumbled onto a Miami parade, full of local high school bands, fire trucks, and businesses waving flags to support veterans. I walked with them along the parade route until I came upon a park where 500 people were gathered for a Veterans Day celebration. As I held my hand over my heart for the Star Spangled Banner my eyes welled up and I was reminded again why I am so proud to live in the GREAT USA!
Afterwards hot dogs were passed out to the crowd and I walked around thanking as many veterans as I could. Following the kisses and hugs, I hopped in a cab and went back to the Miami airport. I had just purchased some brand new TSA approved carry on luggage when to what to my wondering eyes did appear? This non-TSA, simple security worker on a power trip. I recognized her from the last time I was at this airport and she wouldn’t let me finish my bottled water while waiting for the actual TSA agent to call the line forward, towards the trash can. Perhaps she recognized me, too? So, she tells me that my brand new carry on is too big and I have to go check in…for a fee of $25. I tell her no. She tells me yes. We could do this forever, but I just get out of line and attempt to go back down to a different gate. There are many gates at Miami airport, with no lines, just a TSA agent waiting to look at your ID. However, I am not allowed to go through them (even though they all connect up top), so I am forced back to J where the line is an hour long. This makes no sense to me US Government. Lines here, no lines there. Seeing as how I have time to wait it out and I’m still not paying to check this bag, I sat there for over thirty minutes until the security lady went off duty and then headed to the line. What do you know? The next lady whisked me through and pushed me over to the VIP lane. Thanks airline miles. Sometimes the better woman (and having time on my hands) wins out. Miami may be TSA airport of the year, but their customer service sucks. After finally getting up to the x-ray scanner, I am greeted by some new machine that will scan my body and see if I have any non-approved objects shoved inside my little body. Even newer and more approved than the blower machine, I step in and am completely scanned by what I can only describe as a full body MRI right there in the Miami airport. Approximately three minutes later a little old TSA man tells me the light turned green and I’m good to go.
Down at US Airways I smile and thank how it’s not good to be back. But, I’ve almost got enough air miles for that African safari. Attempting to get on an earlier flight to Washington, DC I am told “there’s room on the plane, but it’ll cost you $50.” I’m sorry, but why? How about you just put me on the flight since you have room? I sit down and wait again. When my flight finally leaves Miami I have a whole row to myself until creepy-Crawler comes and sits next to me. He coughs like he’s carrying the swine flu and I stare down at my laptop ignoring his little ‘under the breath’ comments. Finally he flashes his American Airlines badge at me as though I’ll be impressed and I reply “all my miles are here on US Air.” Go away. But, he doesn’t. And he keeps talking to me about flight patterns and airports…I hate to tell him this but I could probably fly those routes in my sleep, badge or no badge. I don’t know what brings it around to the conversation but somehow we figure out we both went to Appalachian State and he says “Yeah! Class of ’89!” Sorry, buddy, before my time. Finally, I land in Charlotte for my connecting flight where I see my plane is delayed until 11:30 PM. No way in hell. I know this means I’ll really be spending the night in Charlotte; I’ve been down this road before. If they had only put me on the earlier flight as requested, everything could have just been avoided! Glancing up at the flight schedule, I see that another flight is leaving is 20 minutes heading into Reagan (I was scheduled to Dulles) so I sprint to the US Airways preferred people counter and the nice man behind the counter makes the switcheroo. Running into the plane I am THAT person…the last one on the plane…the reason the plane can’t leave. Attempting to place my carry on above me I see two duty-free bottles of rum. Maybe my lucky day? No. I kindly ask the people below me if I can scoot them over so we all have room for our carry on’s, but they aren’t interested. Are you kidding me? After getting the flight attendant involved, they suddenly seem kind hearted, all carry on is put away and I take a seat. I just want to get to DC.
One hour later my wish is granted as I land at Ronald Reagan International airport. A hop, skip and a jump across the street I enter D’Ann and Wade’s house. A crazy day has led me here to peace and quiet. I curl up in the comfy bed and am so thankful for darkness.
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