The one major downside to living in Paradise is that you never have to leave. All your wants and needs are within walking distance and it’s socially acceptable to make that walk barefoot. It’s been six years since I moved to Miami Beach and if I were an orphan, it would have been six years since I’d last visited the mainland.
Fortunately, I belong to a loving family who live on the other side of the bridge and occasionally desire my presence. If it were not so, I’m afraid I might have fully transitioned to a beach bum.
Be careful what you wish for.
I grew up in the suburbs of Kendall where beach days qualified as a special occasion. Spontaneous trips to the ocean were rare, they required planning:
Who’s coming?
Who’s driving?
Where do we park?
Who’s paying for parking?
Should we get some Pub subs?
What are we drinking?
Who’s carrying the cooler?
Who’s carrying the chairs?
The list goes on. It was an all day affair that usually ended with a sunburn and a traffic jam but it wouldn’t have to be that way if I lived there. I could walk to the beach whenever I’d like. I wouldn’t have to worry about parking and if I got hungry, I could always walk back to my apartment and make myself a sandwich. Life would be great on the beach. Fast forward twenty years later and life IS great on the beach, almost too great. My wish came true. It was everything I had expected and more but what I did not expect was just how little time I would end up spending off of it.
