It has been a long time since I’ve written a post. While I have enjoyed writing and have still been writing during my hiatus (the draft of my first novel complete and a short story done), I’ve been so busy and overwhelmed with life and work that my blog fell to the wayside since last September.
I have been wanting to get back to my blog for months and decided to fire-up the ole webpage today. When I did, I discovered I never completed my Miami series. So, now that I am back, here is the completion of my journey through food in Miami. Reader beware: it doesn’t quite end well…
As I leave the brewery and once again enter the summer heat, I have to decide what to do next. I’m full of coffee, donuts, and beer, so I decide I could really use some protein. I fire-up my Google Maps app and find two starred locations I had previously pinned for myself. A taco place and a Cuban food joint. “Should I hit one of them or both?” I decide to take up the charge and go to both. I decide to start with tacos so I take a left and head on down the street.
A few blocks down I am greeted by what can only be a bachelorette party. A half-dozen girls in bedazzled pink to shirts run up-and-down the street. There is no way out that isn’t obvious. One of the girls sees me and aggressively approaches.
“Can you help us out with something?”
“Umm. Sure,” I respond.
She grabs her list and rattles off a few things. “Do you have a tatoo?”
“Are you single?”
“Can you sign a Brittany Spears’ song?”
“Um.” Not wanting to drag it on any longer. “Sure.”
“Cool. What song?”
I rack my brain. “…Baby One More Time.”
“Great! Hang on. My friend is going to record it. Thanks a lot!”
Before I know it I am standing there with two girls singing Brittany and being recorded.
“I must confess I still believe.”
All I can think is this video is surely to be all over the internet tomorrow.
“When I’m not with you I lose my mind.”
At best, my wife is going to laugh uncontrollably when she hears about this.
“Give me a sign. Hit me baby one more time.”
At worst, she’s gonna kill me.
“Thank god it’s over,” I think to myself.
They thank me and run off. I take a moment to get back to equilibrium. I start walking again toward lunch. I make the mistake of stopping in a small art shop on my way and am confronted by a girl from a second bachelorette party.
“Can you help me with something?”
“I already helped a girl up the way,” I respond quickly.
“Dang. That’s the other group. Thanks anyway.”
Relieved, I decide to hit the taco joint ASAP.
As I walk-up to the restaurant I step around a group crossing my path as I look up at the sign to make sure its the right place.
SLAM! TWIST! POP!
I stumble as my left foot sinks into the ground and gives-way. It twists left and over-corrects, twisting right. I nearly fall to the ground. Not sure what just happened, I try and collect myself. I walk into the restaurant and get in the line. But, the pain is too great.
I step back outside and sit at one of the picnic tables lining the front porch. I grab my ankle. It’s throbbing. I look at it. It’s starting to swell. I tie-up my shoe real tight.
“Damn,” I think to myself. “Damn.”
I text my wife (who’s about to give a big presentation…mistake) to let her know what happened and that I think I’m going to be okay.
I stand-up. I can put weight on it without too much pain. I take a few steps. I can walk okay even though it’s quite painful.
“What do I do now?”
“Do I take an Uber back to the hotel?”
“Do I take an Uber to the hospital?”
“Do I just stay and eat tacos?”
“Do I go get Cuban food?”
After contemplating my options for a good ten minutes, I decide even though there is not too much pain I am going to need to elevate and ice my ankle soon, but that I am still hungry.
I decide it’s Cuban food, Uber, elevate and ice.
So, I walk the twelve blocks to Enriqueta’s Sandwich Shop. It’s a painful, arduous walk. But, as I sit down, order a Cuban burger and fried plantains, and take my first few bites I know it was worth it.