Static

Hulk Hogan is at the car wash two cars ahead of mine. I’m at the Citgo in South Beach on Alton. There are about 6 or 7 young girls clamoring to have their picture taken with him. I’m a little touched that the years have not diminished Mr. Hogan’s bravado. He is polite and hamming it up with them.

I’m a little surprised that they know who he is, but the next day I find out he has his own reality show on VH1.

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There is a seafood restaurant in Miami called Cami’s, but the name is done with graphics and swirls. I interpreted the apostrophe as an accent ague and pronounced it Camís, like the Spanish word for shirt without the final ‘a’. My mother was telling a story about meeting a friend at ‘Kammy’s’ and I couldn’t figure out what restaurant she was talking about for nearly 2 minutes. My sister and mother make fun of me for this still, even though it happened years ago.

On Friday, we were eating lunch at Tiramisu on Lincoln Road and this woman walked by, noticed the next restaurant and said, ‘I haven’t eaten at Spris in forever.’ She pronounced the name of the restaurant to rhyme with piss. I just looked at my plate.

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Epilogue: A New Year’s Miracle

At fifteen minutes to midnight, my sister and I decided to ditch the party on the 32nd floor of the Icon and try to make one on Belle Isle before midnight. We cut down Pennsylvania Ave and took 11th to West. The light at 11th and Alton stayed green for us all the way from Penn. That light never stays green.

God must enjoy champagne as much as I do.