And, Then, Miami Beach
This latest road trip came to a conclusion in Miami, Florida. I originally planned to stay in the city for just a few weeks to help my dad set up charters on his boat, but alas, I am writing this post from the balcony of my summer apartment. Along those same lines, excuse me in advance if this little write-up ends abruptly as my internal temperature reaches a nice well-done before I have time to say anything truly profound.
I never really saw myself as a Miami person (I still don’t), but so far, I’ve found a nice little niche on the beach. While there are some crazy folks in this city (hello, face-eating zombie), I happened to stumble into a fun group of relatively normal Miami Beach-dwellers, which is good, because I happen to enjoy owning a face. On most days.
I spent the first few months of this extended stay living on a 48-ft. boat in the Miami Beach Marina. This was perfect, because I was surrounded by mostly transient boater-types. I’m rather transient myself, so we all immediately had something to bond over. Like not having a home. However, I do own a car and girl parts, so my popularity rapidly increased. Good for me.
Living on a boat is great, except the days tend to blend together. You realize this when you wake up encrusted in a layer of salt and your phone says it’s the next month. Because of the time traveling involved in boat life, apartment life is currently consisting of work. Lots of work. More precisely, lots of letting clients know I’m, in fact, still alive. So, hey guys, I’m alive. I’m living in Miami Beach. I’m still not tan. Cool.