We’ve lived in Miami for a few month’s now and neither one of us has been shot yet. (So pay up.) The weather, of course, is what you’d expect in the tropics. The traffic is what you’d expect where the roads only run North and South. The people are what you’d expect in Miami. Hispanic. So we’re attempting to learn Spanish. So far, I’ve only learned to say Gwadra la pistola (which means approximately, "Put away the gun"), and No may mattes (something like "Don’t kill me.").
Oh, sure I could tell you about all the crimes that occur in broad daylight within two blocks of my office, but I prefer to dwell on the cool stuff. South Beach, for instance. By itself, it more than makes up for putting The Club® on every time I leave my car for more than thirty seconds. But, although I have yet to see Cindy, Cher or Madonna (or any celeb for that matter), I have seen more than my fair share of bizarro’s and seven-foot tall black transvestites. Despite the temperature, Miami is a very cold town. Natives don’t take to newcomers. And the local kids are snot-nosed punks. Anyone who moves here is usually well-off, so their kids are unbelievably spoiled. In fact, the only thing that prevents them from being totally arrogant bastards is the debilitating low self-esteem that comes from having to measure up to the best-looking models on the planet. That’s why cosmetic surgery is a booming industry around here. Popular elective surgeries seem to be tummy tucks, nose jobs and liposuction. Judging from the results, these procedures involve removal of the patient’s personality as well.