insider
In no particular order, they are:
• Why does the bathroom fan and light turn on via the same
switch? Don’t they realize that not everything I do in the
bathroom requires industrial-strength air ventilation? (I didn’t
even bring the Big Green Egg grill with me this time, for Pete’s
sake!)
• A pal of mine who works in a big-time Vegas hotel advised
me to slip the concierge some cash and my stay would be
kingly. Did the Miami concierge have to laugh, though, when
I accidentally slipped him a twenty-peso note vs an Andrew
Jackson? (Okay, 20 pesos is worth about a buck, I now realize,
but it sports a lovely picture of Benito Juarez on the front of
the bill—Mexicans often refer to him as their own Abraham
Lincoln. Surely that counts for something, right?)
• I overheard one of the maids talking about “repurposing leftover
pie.” No further comment is necessary.
I always try to sneak some time away from out-of-town conferences
and do a bit of local exploring, which I managed to make happen
during this trip. Miami, I’ve found, is a strange place. I felt a
bit like I was a cultural anthropologist checking in on some
bizarre social experiment. For those of you who haven’t
had the pleasure of visiting Miami recently, I’ll share
ten things that I’ve now learned about Miami, the butt
of the Gunshine State.
1) Conan the Barbarian car murals are still hip.
2) Jackets are only necessary in movie theaters
and during like three days in mid-February (or so I
hear).
4) A white mesh top does go with magenta hot
pants. On a guy.
5) One billion percent humidity does exist.
6) Anyone who walks outside for more than a city
block will step on an average of 2.9 cockroaches
7) Giving cockroaches names like “water bugs”
or “cockies” does not make them cute. Or less
icky beneath one’s shoe.
8) All Miami drivers are apparently allowed to
follow the rules of the road from their country of
MARCH 2018 | SARASOTA SCENE 117
Laughing MATTERS
THE MIAMI TRAVEL EDITION
by Ryan Van Cleave | Illustrations by Darcy Kelly-Laviolette
I’m sure you’ve noticed something is a wee bit different
about my humor column this month. Yep—you guessed it.
I’m writing it on a Mac laptop versus my normal desktop
PC. The real differences between these machines as I
understand them? Four things.
• My PC doesn’t have that strange little squiggle button on it,
just to the left of the space bar. What the heck is that thing
on my Mac? It boasts “COMMAND,” so I’m understandably
eject button? Self-destruct? Direct hotline to Apple HQ? (I
just steer clear.)
• My Mac is silver. The PC, in contrast, is a muddled grayish
yuk-colored thing that perhaps once aspired to look silvery.
• When I run out of things to write for this column and,
smithereens, I’d be out about 800 smackers more if I chose
to take my well-earned rage out on the Mac.
• One is portable. The other weighs like 9,005 pounds.
Other than that, they’re pretty much the same thing. “Overly
expensive typewriters,” my mother complains. And most days, I
think she’s not far from wrong.
But let’s get down to business. I’m writing this baby on the
Mac largely because it’s portable and I just so happen to
be in Miami. Yep. The Magic City. (Where does that
nickname come from? I’m thinking it has something
to do with how these overpriced hotels are making
my money disappear. POOF! Like one of those
Dyson vacuums practically sucking the cashola right
out of my wallet.)
So I’m here for—of all things—a writer’s conference. I go
to these a lot because it’s the one place where I can wear
my writer-geek t-shirts and not get strange looks. Like my
“Irony—it’s the opposite of wrinkly” and “Writer’s block—
when my imaginary friends won’t talk to me” beauties that
make my wife’s eyes roll way, way, way back in her head
when I bust them out.
The conference has actually been decidedly nice. But I have
questions about my stay at this near-the-airport Miami hotel.
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