“Hialeah, agua, fango y factoria”, (Hialeah: water, mud, and factories) is the saying we Cubans have for the city. The city never fails me and always lives up to its reputation. It rained and rained from the minuet I got there. As my plane circled the Bahamas I looked down at the beautiful sunny waters, which I deeply hoped was foreshadowing of weather to come. I should be so lucky. Hialeah means pretty prairie in Seminole. They must have named it on a very dry year. We arrived at Fort Lauderdale Airport thirty minuets delayed and there was a line of about 10 planes stuck in what appeared to be a runway traffic jam. 
While trying to stretch out a stiff economy class neck ache, I learned that no one would be able to pick me up at the airport. I was pissed at after leaving New York having to resort to train commuting in Seminole land. I took a free 8 minuet shuttle to the Tri Rail system which turned out to be a pretty quick and inexpensive ride; about $3.50 if you take it from Ft. Lauderdale Airport into Hialeah. My parents picked me up at the station. I spent the rest of the night relaxing and catching up with family since tomorrow morning my friends from NY would arrive and relaxation would be no more.
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