As you read this blog entry, I invite you to envision the theme music from the hit TV show '24'.
(*Digital clock displays and ticks loudly with each passing second)
*Voice of Jack Bauer:
The following takes place between 9:45pm and 1:43am.
9:45:23
After a long day of drinking heavily at Ultra Music Festival in Miami, nausea and cold sweats signal me that it was time to leave. Earlier in the day, I successfully navigated myself and two others from Broward County to Miami via public transportation (i.e., tri-rail, metro-rail, metromover). I had researched the routes and very diligently printed out three maps and train schedules which included details of which stations to use, etc. Looking back, I should have brought a clipboard because I looked like some sort of camp counselor with all my paperwork.
As I reflected upon my earlier feat, I felt very proud of myself and decided that I could successfully navigate my way home in the same manner. I didn’t bother to reference the literature I brought with me because alcohol makes me feel invincible and powerful. Surely, I could get myself home solely on memory of which stations to take.
I enter the Metromover at what I believe was the Park West Station. I jump on along with interestingly clad fellow Ultra attendees. (see facebook for photos) I take the Metromover to the Government Center Station (I think) and get off in attempt to exchange to the Metro-rail. *At this point all logic becomes extinct
As I exit the Metromover and begin to walk to the Metro-rail, I become nervous that by the time I reach the Tri-rail, the train will have ceased service for the evening thus not getting me back the rest of my journey. I panic.
“Crap. I should just head back to Ultra and try to get a cab home,” I think to myself.
I exit the Government Center Station on NW 3rd ST (I think) and begin to walk back to Bicentennial Park where Ultra is being held. So I thought. You see, Bicentennial Park is EAST of the train station. I walked WEST.
10:04:57
Facebook status reads: I'm wandering the streets of miami (insert philadelphia)....
After walking several blocks, it should have dawned on me that I was headed in the wrong direction. However, as you read earlier, I was void of all logic and reason.
I continue to walk West on 3rd St. approximately seven blocks until reach some sort of waterway. “Hm? This can’t be right,” I said to myself.
The street was completely deserted and not a creature was stirring. I make a right and continue to walk. Approximately one block ahead of me is a group of young men. Some were African American, some were of Latin heritage. “Crap, crap, crap…I’m gonna get raped and beaten,” I thought to myself.
10:43:17
Facebook status reads: I am seriously lost in downtown miami. Some african american dudes told me I'm "effed"
I chose to abandon the stereotype I held about the group of young men that I was quickly approaching and decided to be friendly and see if they could help me. That was a more pleasant thought I decided.
“Hey guys, what’s happenin’?”
“Aw, shit…wat u doin’ white girrrrl?”
“Oh nothing much, I went to Ultra and am just trying to find my way back home.”
The group of men laugh. I laugh with them, nervously.
“Girrrrl, Ultra be all the way down tha.” A black man extends his arm and points in a Northeastern direction.
“Am, I in the ghetto?”
The group of men laugh hysterically at this point.
“Hell ya girl, you be in the ghetto. You fu*&ed!”
The black man suggests that I keep walking North.
All in all, they weren’t so bad. They let me take pictures of them and pointed me in a safe direction. My stereotype of these types of people has been erased. I love homies.
11:02:56
Facebook status reads: I'm so effed. I was just told that I'm in the miami ghetto and then they laughed in white girls face. Aye que lindo...lo siento..I'm dead
I walked North as the gang suggested and find a friendlier looking section of town. Latin music was playing and people were smiling. Good sign.
11:16:41
Facebook status reads: I've lost everyone and I've sought solace with some Cubans. All I can say is "ay que lindo". They like that and r feeding me Cuban snadwiches. I have no idea how I'm getting back to FTL.
I approached some sort of street vendor/mini Cuban restaurant. All this walking sure made me hungry. I sat down on a bar stool. Everyone around me was speaking Spanish, I had no idea what was going on. But I felt pretty safe. A friendly looking lady approached me and asked me what I would like. I told her to get me whatever she recommends. She yelled something in Spanish to the cook and approximately four minutes later a lovely Cuban sandwich and a can that read ‘Materva’ arrived in front of me. I think it is some sort of soda. It was CRAZY SWEET. What’s up with Cuban peeps and really sweet stuff?
11:24:26
Facebook uploads two photos. One of half eaten Cuban sandwich.
11:48:32
Facebook status reads: Why in the world did I study French for 10 years?? I would do anything to speak even a piqueto of Spanish. I'm lost in lil havana. There is no saving this gringa. I got off the wrong metro-rail stop. Pls remember me. Adios.
After I finished my sandwich I walked across the street to another restaurant where there was a valet driver.
“Hey, I’m really lost and I am trying to get back to Ft. Lauderdale, can you help me?”
A very friendly, Cuban valet person who barely spoke English tried to tell me where to go so I could catch a cab. He gave me some tips, I thanked him and took off walking again. I must have walked closer to Ultra at this point because the streets were much more crowded and there were some taxis. However, every freaking taxi that went by had someone in it. I tried to hail a taxi for approximately 35 minutes. I failed.
With my head low and my heart defeated, I aimlessly walked around. My feet and legs ached from hours of dancing and all the walking. I contemplated sitting on a stoop and camping out for the night.
Honk! Honk!
I looked up and there is the smiling face of the Cuban valet driver. He pulled up beside me and rolled his window down. With a heavy accent he told me, “Go back to the restaurant.” Then he speed away.
With a smidgen of renewed hope, I walked back to the restaurant where he worked. By the time I got back to the restaurant, I saw him standing at his valet stand. He smiled and waved to me.
“I get off work in 30 minutes, I will take you home.”
Joy filled my heart!
“Really?!, you would do that for me?”
“Si, no problemo.”
So I sat on the side of the road and waited for him to get off work so he could drive me home.
1:05:54
Ride back to Laudi began.
The Cuban valet driver happily took me to his car and we began our journey back to Fort Lauderdale. I excessively thanked him for his generosity. He was very nice and we managed to have a conversation despite our language barrier. He even taught me a few Spanish phrases. The only point that I was nervous was when he said, “I’ve never had sex with an American girl.” Crap. I laughed nervously and changed the subject. He didn’t pursue that topic any further. Thank the Lord.
1:43:27
Text message to Bekah reads: I got a strange Cuban to take me home after I lost EVERYONE. U will need to read the blog…
1:45:58
Text message from Bekah reads: U got in the car alone with a strange Cuban??? He drove u all the way to Laudi???
1:46:37
Text message to Bekah reads: Yes and yes. God bless Cubanos.
This concludes adventure #1 of a 3 part series.
