In Which We Take Miami - Day One

It was a snowy, bleak January day in Boston, and two young girls were aimlessly gchatting each other about the activities of the Kardashians and about how delicious banana pancakes are. Suddenly and without warning, the following conversation occurred (I am copy and pasting verbatim):

Me: when do you want to go to Miami?

Eleanor: letssee i will grab my calendar

sooo anytime in march? orr late feb?

Me: i was thinking late feb

Eleanor: okk

And so it was. Plane tickets were booked, a hotel room was reserved, and soon we were off!

Ok, so it wasn’t that simple.

We left Boston on a plane that resembled a Matchbox car and felt every single bump as we made our way down the East Coast to Reagan Airport in DC. I made the mistake of trying to read my book throughout all the turbulence (Kindred by Octavia E. Butler just f your i), and I honestly thought, for the first time in my life, that I was going to have to use the barf bag during our descent. Thankfully I kept my sh*t together but it was very touch and go for awhile there.

Meanwhile, Eleanor didn’t just exit the plane, she went and tripped right through the door and onto the landing tunnel thing (what DO they call that?). One of her arms flailed out and hit a wire from somewhere, badly damaging her hand. We were joking that it was broken, but really, it wasn’t that funny. So you have me, turning an ugly shade of green and clutching my stomach, and Eleanor, wailing and holding her broken hand in a state of confusion. I believe the term “hot mess” was created for us.

So what do you do when you’re injured during a layover? Beer. Duh.

The Jet Rock Bar and Grill hit the spot in the most amazing way. I ordered a Blue Moon, split the Guacamole Egg Rolls with El, and demolished a plate of Portobello Sandwich Dippers. Everything was delicious. I’m usually very wary of airport restaurants, but THIS PLACE. Wow. Aside from sitting next to some hardcore Republicans who kept proclaiming loudly that they were hardcore Republicans, we had a blast here!

Our flight from DC to Miami was on a bigger plane and went much more smoothly, thank the baby Jesus. We also got to play with these awesome headrests!

Then finally, at 9:15 at night, we touched down in Miami!

This was our first view of Downtown Miami from the cab (sorry about the picture quality, an iPhone camera in a moving vehicle can only do so much). Our driver had the best laugh in the world and joined us in making fun of Delilah After Dark. If you’ve never heard her, this radio host named Delilah basically pretends to be so sweet that your teeth start to hurt while you’re listening to her. It’s like biting down on a Sour Patch Kid the wrong way and having your jaw feel like it’s being electrocuted.

Sorry, I got sidetracked by rage. We pulled up on Collins Avenue which is almost right next to the beach on South Beach and is one of the main streets to hang out on. The Princess Ann Hotel had a teeny-tiny sign on the front of the building and that’s it, so our cab driver couldn’t find it for a few minutes. After paying our new BFFL and dragging Eleanor’s outrageous luggage into the lobby, we checked out the scene.

Ok, so I don’t really know how I feel about the Princess Ann just yet, but there were definitely things I loved and definitely things I hated. Let me explain:

Pros:

• It’s right near the beach and all of the bars and restaurants
• Wicked cheap
• Continental breakfast every day
• OK water pressure in the shower
• Cable, which means lots of Spanish novellas and Teen Mom episodes for us

Cons:

• None of the windows shut all the way, and with all of the cracks around them to begin with, there was always a really nasty draft in our room
• Our bed was wrapped in plastic. Enough said.
• The maid really liked yelling at us to get out so she could clean
• I don’t think anyone on the staff is capable of smiling (except the older gentleman, he’s my boy)
• Breakfast was carbs, more carbs, and a side of carbs. Oh, with whole milk of course (rollin’ with the fatness!)
• Green walls in the room with “artwork” from the 80s. Plus the bed smelled like bleach.

I mean, whatever. You get what you pay for. I wasn’t expecting anything great, and we had fun with it, but I’m not really sure that I would recommend it to anyone heading to the MIA.

So, I know you must be wondering: what did you guys do during your first night in Miami? Take tequila shots off of some guy named Juan’s stomach? Party into the night with Will Smith? Did you go skinny-dipping at 2 AM only to wake up the next morning stranded on a beach in Bermuda?

Nah, we were in bed by 11:30. Us old biddies need our beauty sleep. But I can tell you that the next few nights were definitely not as quiet/lame.

Stay tuned for my Day Two post coming up whenever I feel like writing it!

- Alison