Less than three weeks from leaving for my big trip. I would excuse myself for not posting anything in awhile, but I hate when people do that.
I spent last week in Florida unwinding from the holidays.
Meaning, I sat on my ass and listened to the waves break from the 7th floor of my father's condo. I was in the town of Hollywood, not to be confused with the Hollywood in California.
Hollywood is a town that runs along route 1A, a long stretch of coastal highway parted by suicide lanes and palm trees. On one side is the ocean, on the other side is the bay and on the thin stretch of land in between the ocean and the bay are as many concrete high-rise apartment buildings that can fit. From a distance, these high-rises look the same -- thick white rectangles divided into a grid of windows and terraces, apparitions of forgotten tenement buildings from the 1960's. Up close, you can see the painted signs of their youth fading off their facades. Our building, The Presidential, was marked with a great rainbow striped flute up its side and a neon sign with white stars around its name.
Littered at the feet of the monstrous high-rises are squat one and two floor buildings. Strip malls span three city blocks. Motor lodges have rusting iron balconies that run along the perimeter of the second floor and names like Stardust and Belair displayed in sparkling letters on their stucco facades.
Fact: Hollywood has a boardwalk. It's just not like South Beach's. South Beach is a town 20 miles south of Hollywood that has renewed itself to Miami’s heyday. From the grand entryways of South Beach hotels billow white curtains, the flags of the town's rebirth. Its concrete tenements are disguised with a fresh coat of pastel paint. Its neon signs and sparkle letters have since been replaced with more fashionable ones. The towns palm trees are full and green and sway with flare. Rollerbladers glide along the concrete, weaving between the bent stalks of the trees.
Hollywood's boardwalk has not been reborn. Hollywood’s boardwalk is home to strips of pizza parlors, souvenir shops and fortune tellers. Its beaches are empty. Posters of race horses and dead movie stars in thin gilded frames hang on restaurant walls. There is not a rollerblader in sight. Rollerblading is forbidden where old people roam.
Fact: Hurricane evacuation routes are clearly marked.
Fact: It is common to see a car with its rear-end smashed in. I imagine auto body work is a lucrative business in the Hollywood area.
Fact: There are businesses for anti-aging. There are special pharmacies for hearing aids. When I am old, will I prefer to be surrounded by people of my own age or will this only make death loom larger?
Fact: I kept on picturing the opening credit for CSI Miami.
