First night out

One of the remaining home repair projects we have ahead is to replace the carpet on the bedroom floors with a laminate wood product. Because our floor is someone else’s roof, there are many more rules and regulations that we need to adhere to if we want to receive the approvals from the city of Miami Beach and our building administrative board. And of course, the extra vigilance also cost extra $$$ for ‘sound-proofing’ materials and official inspections. Also, a project that could have taken a couple of days to complete, will end up taking over a month, if we’re lucky.

Even though the floor is going to take longer than anticipated, we felt that the place was already suitable to receive guests so a few days ago we made plans with some long-time family friends to drop by for a visit. The family friend was Roxy*, and the other half of the equation was her boyfriend Jeff*. We didn’t really know them personally but we know Roxy’s family and knew about her, so even though it was the first time we saw her in person, it was not as if she was a complete stranger.

When I called her to give them directions, I was almost apologetic for the fact that parking was going to be an issue. They were definitely more used to the idea of valet parking, and paying $5 for valet was nothing to them. Nevertheless, I suggested that they park in the valet and then I would drive our car to wherever we decided to go for dinner.

They agreed and came up to check our place and our view as we decided where to go to dinner. We decided to stay on the island (Miami Beach) so we headed to Ocean Drive. It almost felt strange to leave the safety of our parking deck to drive to a place that I knew was going to be a mad house and that I knew there was not going to be a parking in sight, but pretending to know what I was doing, I just drove heading on that direction. Six blocks later we were double parking in front of Joe’s Stone Crab Restaurant. Jeff found out that the wait was only 45 minutes. Since it was already passed 9 PM, I proposed to move on to plan B. Plan B was back to West Avenue to a little restaurant called “Barton G”. We were now only about 4 blocks from our condo, but Roxy was wearing a short, short mini skirt and 6” stiletto heels so I felt it wouldn’t have been appropriate gear for walking around just to save on parking. So I doubled park right in front of the restaurant and promptly get my door opened by a helpful valet parking driver. I leave the engine on, step out of the open door, get a ticket with a number and the guy says, “It’d be 12 dollars” Now, call me a country-boy from Chapel Hill, but where I come from, dinner is around $12 for the whole meal. I was shocked! But to keep looking cool, I quickly shelled out the $12 and pretended that I wasn’t feeling as if it wouldn’t have been more fun to having a friendly aneurism.

Once we were seated, I was even afraid of opening the menu, concerned that it’d be one of those with fancy names and no prices. Well, at least it had the prices but my hunger had suddenly conceded to the point that I only had enough appetite for a small entrée. Luckily, the portions were so small anyway that it was almost perfect. I just hope I don’t get an indigestion when I face the Visa bill at the end of the month.

The evening turned out to be a wonderful experience. We got to know our new friends in a wonderful ambiance, and I got to think about getting friends that wouldn’t mind riding their bicycles to the local Cuban fast-food joint.

I better get used to this new life style, and a non-AARP job to support it sooner rather than later.

*The names have been changed to protect the innocent.