February 2005 Archives
I went to get my taxes done today. On the way there i took this picture.
In regards to my return.......Haleluja! Haleluja! Haleluja!
My accountant has strong CPA kung fu.
Today, I bid farewell to sunny Florida and returned to more snow then what I’d left behind. 
I had mixed feelings about coming home. I was really enjoying my time in Miami but at the same time was somewhat homesick. I woke up early and had everything ready to go. My brother however, took his sweet ass time. We had the longest conversation of the week while he lazily lapped milk from spoonful after spoon full, of what appeared to be a never ending bowl. I got to the airport late and had to sit on standby. It was cool because I found a Starbucks and time to write.
Happy 2, shorty
I had the house to myself the entire first half of the day. I was chilling. I tanned for a good three hours until I turned a nice shade of get-the-fuck-out-of-the-sun red. At about 3pm the things got started getting really noisy and complimented with endless hand gestures to accompany every uttered syllable.
We were celebrating John-Michaels birthday. So we had cake to go with the crab claw bisque and langoustines in a tomato based sauce that my parents made, which had everybody licking their fingers. 
Tomorrow I fly home.
Me & Sulie, my baby brother's girlfriend.
Vomit, sick kids, and a grumpy old man resulted in our decision to head back to Hialeah rather then endure a similar time to yesterdays. After, much arguing, my father won his way and we ended up taking highway US-27 rather then the Florida turnpike on our way home. He resorted to a proud process of continuously pointing out every cow, orchid field, shanty fruit stand, and cheaper-then-your-route gasoline prices along the entire way. Considering that Florida is the top cattle state, central to citrus agriculture and that SUVs sell like hot cakes in this country, we heard a lot of his shit. We stopped at a place called Woody’s for what we hoped was promising barbeque. When we walked in speaking Spanish, wearing wide smiles and brown skin it felt as if the entire cowboy hat wearing nation paused, took a good look at us and continued eating. We had a pitcher of beer, good food, and a great time. It wasn’t until four hours later that we arrived at my mother’s house.
Later that night, I headed out to club Oxygen, in Coconut Grove, for a breath of fresh air. I ended up feeling a little claustrophobic from all of the very forward attention that Miamians we giving me. They don’t really believe in that casual across the bar flirting, eyelash fluttering sort of thing. They come right up to you no matter what they scored on the pretty scale and say, “boo”. Escaping behind the velvet ropes of Rudy’s VIP section and comp drink tickets helped. Also helpful was Ramon, the other promoter’s, conversation. They were some of the only normal encounters I made that evening. Feeling a combination of lonely bored, and somewhat tired of fending off the fresh-meat natives, I left relatively early, driving home the long way.
Mom woke everybody up at 4 a.m. which equated to only about three and a half hours of sleep for everyone save my father who had a vodka induced early night. I didn't get much sleep because I ended up picking the rental van at about midnight. The last thing I needed was to wake up to hurried get-up motivational pep talks. After some incoherent cursing I made my way to the kitchen to take a shot of Cuban style espresso that could jump start a dead cow. Soon, I was bouncing off the walls and loading my things into the van. The rental was a Chevy Astro, which two car seats and seven adults later was one hell of a tight fit. About forty minuets into the road trip my niece decides to throw up on her self, making sure of course to get a little on me. The putrid smell was horrible, nauseating, and made everyone’s stomachs turn. It took about 10 min before we were able to clean her 
up as best as we could prior to the rest stop. All of the sudden, I ask if the smell was getting worst because its presence was still around and seemed to be getting stroger after the fact. We then notice that the reason for this was because my cousin’s son couldn’t deal with the smell and ended up barfing all over himself unbeknownst to the rest of us who were busy worrying about Isabella’s smelly accident.
Two stomach loads later we were condemned to the smell of vomit and new car for the entire weekend.
A four hour ride later everybody’s ass was hurting and we were just getting to Kissimmee, Florida where we found out after an hour of driving back and forth from one Days Inn to another and ending up in the original starting point that was about a 20 mile backtrack, that we wouldn’t be able to check in until 3pm. We decide to check in at night and after a quick stop at Wall-Mart 
for some last minuet things, we headed over to Disney’s Magic Kingdom. The park as always was full of thousands of tourists many of which were Cuban and were determined to make their presence known. The child in me loves the parks manicured lawns, rides, ongoing themes and the rest of the commercialized magic of a long ago dead visionary who may one day be defrosted and brought back to life. Why is it that we are so attracted to the endless rolls of trinkets that are lined up in all those shops and are willing to pay up to seven dollars for a cheese burger in there? Luckily, we had my fathers bickering and stereotypical Cuban rants which were a great ongoing laugh, at his expense, that made the long lines to the attractions bearable. Paris Hilton & her sister showed up at the castle after the show and her money bought all of Mikey’s attention and halted access to Cinderella's palace. Lucky Bitch! Mean while the rest of endured a non Twinkle Bell enchanted evening and dealt with the Presidents Day masses.
After spending the earlier half of the day waiting on a call that never came, I headed out in my mothers car to the beach. The day was nice and sunny; the water was even endurable, so long as one kept moving. It was great to just lie out and relax to the sound of crashing waves. There was also a group of young Cubans next to me who had a guitar and were playing some really nice tunes. I got bored after a while because time passes by a lot slower on the beach when one is alone rather then with friends. So I waddled down the shoreline with my feet in the water for some time, thought about shit, and reflected. I later sat in the car across the street from the tides and called a few friends in New York. I walked around South Beach’s streets, ate lunch, took pictures and then went to the Marlin Hotel where my friend Jerome was bartending and offered to buy/make me a slamming mojito. I then headed back to Hialeah, “la cuidad que progresse” to pick up the rental van for tomorrows trip to Disney World.
I had a blast last night. It was the sort of night were one just lets go, forgets all of the things that often time weight one down and just has fun. It all started in Coconut Grove where I was supposed to watch a movie. (“Supposed” by the way, is the operative word of that last sentence.) They of course weren’t showing the film I intended to watch and so I resorted to a quick stop at 
Wet Willies, which is a chain of bars that have an assortment of alcoholic frozen drinks that will immediately put you well above the DUI limit. I had one of their novelty choices of liquid crack called, “Call-A-Cab.” 
Wow! It was the equivalent of taking the little blue pill in the Matrix. Inhibition and prohibition flew out the door. After which, I took the back exit to South Beach. There I found a liquor store that provided the bottle of Malibu that was downed with soda near the shore and another Wet Willies on Ocean Drive’s strip not far from that five dollar margarita place that was just a few minuets away from that other bar with the strippers. Between all of those drinks were continuous pissing, loud moments, whispered ones, blushed cheeks, red eyes, fountains in courtyards
, empanadas, blurry pictures, lost sense of direction, overcrowding, overbooking, bartenders, old friends and new ones:
Amalia (ca va, mon ami), Tony (great drinks), Hiro (Domo Arigato, NY wa do desu ka?) 
Italian guy (Ciao! como stai? Que cosa fai di nuovo?) Manny (Dimelo Bro)
The last hour of the night is unaccounted for. Based on eye witness accounts I have determined that I was dropped off at home sometime between 6 and 630 a.m. where after buzzing the door bell a few times, I walked past my mother and went right to bed.
See? I told you that it was that kind of a night.
I spent the better part of my day in the backyard tanning on a chair.
The rest of Hialeah seemed to be in hiding from the sun behind stucco walls and central cooling. I on the other hand welcomed Apollo with open arms and soaked up as many of its rays as possible between the every-now-and-again cloud which would lazily loom its way by. I was determined to stir up the melanin and turn my snow bleached ass back to olive. At first the reality of being stuck at home and not on a beach was not welcomed but my little privet patch of sunlight turned out to be a very relaxing time. I got about two shades darker, napped, inhaled welcomed herbal fumes, and saw enough fauna to make the local Audubon Society jealous. Blue jays, green parrots, Mockingbirds, Doves, finches, and crows who seemed to be extremely attracted to the cat food nibbles and eyeballed me nervously from the fence and plum tree where they were all lined up to take a chance at the bowl.
I figured that it was a lot better then having seagulls which can often time becoming overtly assertive and like pigeons some what of nuisance. It was kind of nice to escape in my mothers little paradise and not have to worry about parking meters, traffic, and south beach prices for a day while the rest of the world hide from the heat and dealt with responsibility and things mundane.
I arrived safely in Miami today.
Here is how the rest of the day went:
My bag was one of the first ones out at the luggage return and pops was right outside. We shared that awkward hug moment that always seems like an unrehearsed bad stage direction. I got home, made a sandwich, sat in the back yard, took a nap, ate slamming beans (mom) and churrasco/grilled squirt steak (pops), found 6 more Cubans that also watch the Spanish soap opera named Gitanas,hung out with my baby brother, produced black bean induced methane, spent time with family, and went to sleep relatively early on the first non futon style bed in months
