"What does it take to get one of those little yellow lights down there?" I would certainly say if I was a bird flying high above the greater Miami area.
When I was 14, I was reading a fantasy novel on an airplane inbound Miami International Airport, my family on either side of me. I was scratching my neck because the stagnant air irritated me. Someone should have given me Dramamine (then I wouldn't be crying in your arms right now). I woke up sunburned on the beach.
I'm 19 and I can do things by myself, like reserve an airplane ticket. I could call anyone, just to hear the contempt in their voice, but I'm calling Joe, just to hear his accent...and maybe to pretend that I'm 300 miles to the north.
I'm probably just bitter at the cost of a sandwich or the lack of vegan choices in a place so full of glamor. It might have been too loud to take a good nap on South Beach. It may be too crowded in paradise for me to see the beauty. Isn't it the people that make a location so great?
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