I've been driving in circles for 20 minutes. So far, I've cursed aloud to myself in the car five times for very legitimate reasons:
1) The cheap garage is full. #@!%
2) The other garage is $15 flat rate. #@!% that!
3) Ah, there's a spot down the street! Loading zone? #@!%
4) Does my car fit in this space? I'm a parallel parking goddess; I can make it work.... I can't make it work. #@!%
5) Guess I'll have to park in that overpriced garage after all. It's now $20? #@!%
By the time I finally find a parking spot, I'm almost out of gas, grumpy, and hating South Beach. I walk past Collins Avenue to Ocean Drive, drenched in sweat, and wonder, "why do I even bother coming out here?" Then I hit the water and wonder, "why don't I come here more often?"
The truth is, most Miamians take the beach for granted. It's not going anywhere, right? But each time I do go, I can't believe I've been kept away so long. When I travel, I'm more interested in exploring what Miami doesn't offer -- centuries-old architecture, historic bars, mystery. Who needs the Mediterranean Sea when you live in Miami? Yet I rarely take advantage of our celebrated beaches. Shame on me.
I hereby resolve to visit Miami Beach as often as possible even if trying to park makes me want to shoot something.
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