South Beach

I’m in Miami for business, which certainly doesn’t mean there isn’t time for play.

Tonight, for example, was all about fun. The first time I set foot out of the hotel was to board the bus to the Bass Museum. Taking the highway past mansions on the waterfront, you realize the wealth of this area, contradicting the cheesiness but complimenting the focus on fashion. The museum even furthered my perception of Miami as culturelessly superficial: It was an underwhelming and random collection of quality art -- contemporary American photographs, Baroque pieces and modern Afro-American works. Only two pieces in the small museum stood out for me: a modern piece about immigration and culture called Umbilical Cord, and a photograph of a couple kissing. (I am, after all, a hopeless romantic.)

After the museum we found our way to Books & Books, another attempt at culture in this Plastic City. Books & Books is an independent bookstore that’s expanded to include a restaurant. Sitting outside, the warmth broken only occasionally by a cool breeze, we ate a delicious light fair and held a stimulating discussion that yielded fresh ideas. Aw, the power of youth and wine!

We walked along Lincoln Road to Base, one of those remarkably trendy stores that relishes in its chicness. I thought of St. Tropez – exorbitantly overpriced for peculiar products some strange mind deemed cool. (Of course, I’m no fashion expert… preferring sundresses and flip-flops to pretty much anything else…)

The best came after ice cream when we walked along the shores of South Beach. Night had fallen, so the tourists and Plastic had long since melted away to saturate the superficial clubs of Ocean Drive. (When we walked along that strip later, I was reminded of Venice Beach except with more men with snakes – and I mean that literally. They strolled down the sidewalk with boa constrictors around their necks and arms like fashion accessories.) The weather and water were just right to get our feet wet and, for better or worse, a little bit more than we anticipated. Had there not been riptide and sharks, we would have gone swimming.

We ended up at The Shore Club, one of those chic Miami clubs you'd only find here. Beds surrounded the pool; the beautiful people lounged around with fancy and extraordinarily priced drinks. Sick of work and pretense, we smoke cigarettes indoors and danced the night away. We had fun.

As I prepare for bed, it strikes me that this is what Miami is really about: Fun. It’s dancing and drinking, clubbing and swimming, looking good and not talking. After days of draining our minds, it was exactly what we needed.

I just have to sound smart and look rested in four hours when it's back to work...