miami

Just help out

This morning I had the pleasure of visiting some of the finer government offices here in Miami.  The entire story is another post for another day.  Like many downtown areas, parking is a bitch.  Even though it meant I would have to backtrack almost all the way home after my appointment before heading out to work, I figured it would be worth it to take public transportation, ie the Metrorail, not to have to promise my next child, an arm and the title to my car to the parking attendant.

Despite this wonderfully wonderful climate, people here are still pissy 24/7.  But of course they are, they still have to go to work unlike the tons of people I see scamper past our building on a daily basis (I work on South Beach).  The ride into downtwn was uneventful, meaning, thankfully, no one tried to strike up a conversation.  I handled my business in a manner befitting a single mom who is completely fed up with the system and wonders why said system makes it so difficult to track down a deadbeat dad. (Thank goodness for loving and supportive boyfriend.)

As I was standing on the platform waiting for train number 2 to get back to my car, I noticed an older gentleman in an electric wheelchair.  It's possible that he was paralyzed from the neck down, but I didn't ask.  I stepped onto the train while keeping an eye on him.  He seemed to be waiting for the crowd to clear before attempting to board.  When the time finally approached for him to get on the train, he started moving forward but he got stuck.  You'd think that train stations would be a little better designed, but they aren't and so stuck he was. (His front tire had turned sideways and was stuck in the gap between the platform and the train.)  At that moment, I held my phone in one hand, briefcase in the other.  It only took a split second to realize that of this train full of people, more than 60 percent male, no one was going to help.  God bless Miami.

After cupping my phone ear to shoulder and slinging my briefcase over the other shoulder, I got behind his chair and tried to get him on the train.  Those chairs are heavy.  Way heavier than I imagined.  Or I'm weak.  Way weaker than I used to be.  Either way, I had damn near thrown out my back and blew out a knee (note to self, don't try it in heels next time) before any of the lazy bastards on the train got up to help me.  It's amazing how people have no respect for others.  I wonder how much longer he would have been stuck if I hadn't helped.  It's scary here.

This post has no end.

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PLEASE, slow down

For those of you that don't know, I'm a resident of south Florida, Miami to be exact.  I've lived here now for 3 years.  It hasn't been all candy and flowers, but it hasn't been that bad.  If, by some chance, you don't read these sorts of trivial things, Miami was voted country's rudest/worst drivers.  You can laugh about it and point fingers and joke, but it's sadly true.  I've lived in many places both in and out of this country, and Miami is the worst.  (And no, I'm not going to just sit and complain, we're moving next year.)

I didn't start this post, however, simply to say the driving is bad here.  This is a wake-up call, a warning, a shout-out, whatever you want to call it, that we, as responsible driving adults, need to SLOW DOWN on the roads.  Saturday morning I was reading the Miami Herald and under the breaking news was a story about a pedestrian being struck and killed by a car while trying to cross US1.  This highway is dangerous.  People are dying trying to cross it and nothing is being done.  The most tragic part is that this pedestrian was only 14 years old.  A young life lost before even having a chance to reach its potential.  Parents have been devastated.  A whole school is this morning trying to cope with the loss of their friend and classmate Vincent Delmore.  I know this is true because my daughter was friends with this young man.  She created a

memorial website.

It's hard enough to explain death to the young, but at least it is typically an older relative.  How do you help a child cope with the senseless death of a friend? 

I beg you, I implore you, I ask you kindly from the depths of my heart, le pregunto, please slow down on our roadways.  There is really very little that can be that important for you to endanger the lives of those in our community and the lives of our children.  Please, leave 5 minutes earlier or just be 5 minutes late (nothing starts on time anyways) and slow down and pay attention to the road.

My heart goes out to every child at Ponce this morning and especially to the parents of this young man.  I'm so sorry for your loss.

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Miami: Great for the tan, hell on the ego

First things first or lo primero primero as I've recently learned.  This is not a pity post.  It's a discovery and self-help kinda thing so please, take mom's advice and if you don't have anything nice (or helpful, or insightful) to say, then keep your damn mouth shut (and your fingers off my buttons, lol).

In my 33 years, I have seen and done a lot of things.  I've lived in many places (PA, CO, NY, NC, the Carribbean, Mexico) but none of them have had this effect on me.  You see, I live in Miami now, land of the beautiful people.  I can't escape them.  I work on Miami Beach, land of the even more beautiful people.  They're everywhere.  And they don't work.

I've never thought I was beautiful by any means.  As much as I hate the word cute (which really should be reserved for puppies and babies), unfortunately, I think it's the best that I can do.  You judge…

 

Anyways, that's not typical dress.  As the caption states, I was going out.

So, for those a little low in the self-esteem department, Miami is not the place to live.  It's difficult for me to walk down the street without thinking 'I'm not _________ enough'.  Trust me, I realize that I live in a world of Barbie dolls, but that doesn't make it any easier. 

Somewhere, deep inside of me, lives this demon.  She's the one that says that I'm not pretty enough.  She says that I have the build of a 13 year old (and that's not even true since my 13 year old daughter has bigger boobs than me, sigh), she says my hair's too short and too nappy and that I'm just too short in general.  She says that I don't deserve to be happy.  She's a bitch. 

Most days, the bitch demon stays buried.  Some days, she's just raging.  I know that I have to find a way to draw her out and kill her once and for all.  Is she green?  Probably.  Does she take over and make me want to surgically improve myself?  Sometimes.  Can I let her?  Doubtful.

How do I find a way to be happy with myself when I'm constantly surrounded by people who egg on the demon?  Becoming a monk is not an option.  I have to find a solution and I have to find it soon because when the bitch gets out, she can ruin a perfectly good day/week/weekend/month/year.  When the bitch gets out, I cry for no reason at the drop of a hat, and while that's par for the course here on the beach with many, many mentally challenged people, it's not me, it's not who I want to be nor who I am.

I want to look back at this blog in a month and know that I've made some progress in burying the demon for good.  I want to be happy with me the way that I am.  I don't want to be envious of those who have more height/bigger boobs/no need to work/natural beauty/everything that I don't.  Miami, you are my scapegoat.  I hate you.  You suck.

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Extra Large One

Get your mind out of the gutter, you're crowding me.

I'm talking about Superbowl 41 here people.

I do not expect everyone in the world to know that the big game is next Sunday.  I realize that not everyone is a football fan.  Everyone may not know who's playing or that, even though we shouldn't make a big deal of it, it's the first time in NFL history that a black head coach (even 2!!) go to the dance.  These are things that I understand.

On the other hand, in case you don't know, XLI is being held here in Miami this year where the Colts and Bears will battle it out to see whose cuisine reigns supreme.  No, wait, that's Iron Chef, this is the gridiron.  Anyways, it is difficult to live here and not know that XLI will be here next weekend.  It's all the talk on the news, on the radio, there are banners and billboards EVERYWHERE.  So, praytell, how do two young adult men, living in Miami, have the following conversation at approximately 1 pm on Saturday (1/27/07)?

Guy 1:  Is the Superbowl today?

Guy 2:  No man, it's tomorrow.

Guy 1:  Seriously?  I don't even know who's playing.

At this point, my boyfriend, who is at the counter waiting to pay for our snake's dinner, does the good deed and lets them know that yes, if they don't have to pull their heads out of their asses today, they can stay in the dark for one more week.

Guy 1:     Oh, so it's next week?

My Guy:  Yeah.  Traffic's gonna be rough.

Guy 2:      Why's that?

Why's that?  Why's that?!?!?  Seriously, you LIVE here and you don't know that one of the biggest attractions in professional sports is going to happen in your own back yard?!?!

My Guy:  How much for this rat?

Guy 1:     Two dollars.

My Guy:  Here you go.  Babe, let's go.

We couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry about this.  We chose laugh.  I guess if you breathe snake poop all day, you're bound to lose some sense. 

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I heard it on a ski lift….

I have recently returned from a WONDERFUL, albeit minimally snowy vacation to Tennessee.  Our group contained myself, an African American, my daughter, half AA, half German, my boyfriend, Cuban, our former roommate, half Cuban, half Mexican, and his girlfriend, Honduran.  Why do I go through the ethnicities?  Read on.

Please, put aside your preconcieved notions that all of our southern states are places only for WASPs, for that is not true.  Even a small town like Gatlinburg, a resort town, found its fair share of culturally diverse crowds.  We ran into many people who spoke Spanish, French, German, and even Russian (we think).  There were even quite a few black folks out trying out this snowboarding sensation. (Keep at it!  Don't leave me out there alone!)

All this and more I tell you only to relive the funniest thing I heard all week.  It's funny in a sad sort of way, but I laughed as did all in my group when I relayed the story, which in turn, allows you to laugh too.

Skiing/snowboarding is quite the social sport.  Either that, or I must have a sign on that only other people can see that says "I want you, a compete stranger, to tell me everything about yourself and ask you everything there is to know about me."  Long sign, I know, but I must be wearing it.  At any rate, I've been off riding by myself for a while as my daughter is in a lesson and my poor baby is home sick on the first day of our trip.  I've made fast friends with 2 girls from TN that just love me for some reason (am I Token?), as well as several other kids.  I guess it could be that I look younger than I am and act nowhere near my age, but I digress.

On one particular lift ride, I had the opportunity to ride up with a southern gentleman and his son.  I can say southern with absolute certainty because not only did the accent give it away, but he flat out told me that he was from TN.  The conversation started as most do on a lift ride.  Hellos, weather, first time, etc.  Something like this:

Him: How y'all doing today?

Me:  (Wondering if I've multiplied) Fine thanks, you?

Him: We're doing great!  Great day of skiing.

Mind you, his son says nothing this entire ride.

Me:   Good to hear.

Him:  So where ya from?

Me:   (Because I've told this story many times today, and many times at Club Med) Pittsburgh originally, but now I live in Miami.

Him:  Oh yeah?  What do you do down there?

Me:  I'm an Administrative Assistant.

Him:  Oh?  Where at?

I think that's one too many personal questions at this point, but….

Me:   A property management company.

Him:  You been down there long?

Me:  (Is this ride over yet?!?!)  About 3 years now.

And now, the moment you've been waiting for…..

Him:  You gotta learn to speak mexican to live down there, huh?

Me:  (Blank stare.)  Guffaw!

First off, I didn't capitalize Mexican to accentuate the way in which it was said.  If nothing else, I do know punctuation and capitalization (as I hit spell check).  Secondly, the brunt of the Hispanic population in Miami proper is Cuban although we do boast a large Mexican population.  Third, my newly made redneck friend, if you're going to be stereotypical, at least get it right, because learning to speak SPANISH goes a long way here.

He didn't say much after I giggled in his face and thankfully, the ride was over shortly thereafter.  By the way, southern gentleman, where did you get that gaiter?  It's such a lovely shade.  Oh, wait, that's your neck.

 

 

 

 

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