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- Miami
Beach
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- Road-side
Deco
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- Fort
Lauderdale
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Stats.:
Route:
- Miami:
South Beach
 A1A
- Melbourne
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- Road Kill:
- UNKNOWN----5
- Birds------2
- Cats-------1
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After checking out, I wandered across the
street and onto the crest of the dune which
marked the beginning of the beach. Even though
it was only just after 9 am, the white lounge
chairs were filling with sun worshipers. Back on
the street side of the dune, people were taking
breakfast at the cafes, bistros and restaurants.
Joggers lumbered along and small groups of
roller-bladers glided effortlessly by. Both the
car and people traffic was extremely low
compared to last night. I wandered down the
beach for a while and then back via the street.
The large Art Deco temperature gauge was being
used heavily by tourists as a prop for photos.
It already read ninety-one degrees. The humidity
was rising as well. It had certainly been far
more pleasant on the beach, where a slight
breeze fanned you.
The streets were quite all over
Miami Beach. There was
just so much Art Deco,
and all of it was so well maintained. It gave me
an inkling of what the rest of the world was
trying to achieve during the 1920s. In most
other cases, what is left of that period has
been watered down to a dull set of architectural
white-elephants. Here they still have an
exciting energy, paying homage to an optimistic
age where mankind felt he could achieve
anything.
I stayed on the A1A as it wound its way
out of Miami, and up the beaches. For the most
part, they were speckled by very few people.
Then I arrived in Fort
Lauderdale. An orgy of hot, sweaty
flesh dramatically started opposite the first
street cafe. Every one was sucking it in and
thrusting it out, checking out each other and
showing off as much as they dared. It was the
Bay Watch myth, in real
life and on steroids. I had grown to believe
that such scenes really didn't exist. I was
wrong. Ten minutes later I was sitting in a bar,
supping my Coors Light and watching the
corporeal carnival. The police were busy
checking what people were drinking. (Being
caught drinking alcohol in a public place
results in stiff penalties.) Naval Officers
would intermittently pass by. And twice, car
drivers, so intent on looking at the beach,
drove straight into the rear of the car in front
of them.
This next bit may sound odd to some
people, but after an hour of viewing, I grew
restless. So, I moved on up the road again.
The next area of any note was the
Palm Beach area. I was
already impressed by the opulence of the homes
lining the beaches and Intracoastal Waterways.
But Palm Beach took the proverbial biscuit. How
can there possibly be enough wealth in the world
to have financed these miles, upon miles of
mansions? Palm Beach even has a shopping center
that is a near clone of Rodeo
Drive, in Beverly
Hills. The stench of money was
almost too much.
The road had been a slow one, so I
arrived at Michele's home, in
Melbourne, later than I
had expected. Michele is a friend, that I know
from San Francisco, who
moved back here just over a month ago. The
Melbourne area was recently a haven for
alternative music, but most of that has died
down now. After a Mexican dinner, I found myself
sipping brews again, looking out over the
Atlantic, the moon's
brilliant, full disk reflecting off the waves,
as they broke on the beach. It feels more humid
tonight. The sound of crickets and bull-frogs
come up from the river, and through the door, on
a sweet smelling breeze.
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