Getting Hot in Miami

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This won’t come as a surprise to anyone, but Miami in June is hot. I’ve spent most of my life in the South, but I had always heard of the cool breezes and daily rain showers that kept Miami from being a sweatbox. Perhaps I just had a different idea of a sweatbox. Either way, I was always glad when I could find air conditioning.

It took me 6 months to be able to do anything touristy in 2021, but now that summer has arrived, I’m looking forward to spending more time getting out and about. And yes, I am fully vaccinated, so barring some new variant (I’m looking at you, delta) or preventative measures, I’m going to be doing more traveling and writing in the next couple of months.

Most of my faithful readers will remember that I enjoy sporting events, especially football, baseball, and tennis. Last year, there were no baseball games, and so for 2021, I’ve decided that I’m going to make up for that with a vengeance. That’s what brought me to Miami.

My favorite team is the Toronto Blue Jays—which will become abundantly clear as the summer progresses, if you keep up with this blog—and the stars aligned for a relatively inexpensive trip to watch them play in Miami: $12 for a ticket, $96 for round-trip airfare to Miami, etc. While I hadn’t wanted to make the trip solo, it’s become the normal thing at this stage of my life. (Check out basically every other blog post for evidence of this.) Solo trips don’t bother me. And it’s not like this was my first time in Miami. All told, I’ve been there 4 times now. But I had never visited Calle Ocho, in Little Havana. Nor had I ever attended a Miami Marlins baseball game, so those two things were on the top of my list.

If I had never been to Miami before, I would’ve considered my current trip to be less than ideal. But as it is, I came down with only a small to-do list, and I’m happy to say they were both accomplished. And I learned a few lessons, which I’m happy to impart:


• If you order a Lyft and then don’t show up for it, they charge you $5. Blame it on the confusing layout of the Miami airport, where I was at the departure stops and my Lyft driver was at the arrivals, on the level right below me. Otherwise, Lyft is my go-to for ridesharing.
• It’s unwise to ingest anything with cayenne pepper when it’s over 90 degrees outside. Even if that pepper is in the ice cream you’re eating. But it gave me an excuse to order another ice cream for a chaser, so I I’m not really upset about that.
• Getting everything into your “personal item” on the airplane is about the best thing ever, when it comes to air travel. Easy on, easy off, no wait at the baggage carousel, and no baggage fees at all. It also helps when it’s a single night, and you’re in town for less than 24 hours.
• Domed stadiums are the shit. I think every professional stadium should be domed. No weather delays, no heat strokes, no excuses. I can’t imagine attending many games in Florida without a dome to protect the fans and players from the elements, especially during the summer months. Kudos to you, Miami Marlins.
• It really is a small world. While I didn’t run into anyone I knew personally, I did overhear a guy next to me during the game at one point talk about being from Kalamazoo. When I told him I had graduated from Western Michigan University (in Kalamazoo), he told me that he had also graduated from there. How many WMU alumni were at the Miami Marlins game that day? I would be willing to bet no more than 2.
• Margaritaville at the Miami Airport sucks. No offense, if you’re reading this and work there. They also don’t have sweet tea to drink (or lemonade on that particular day). But it was one of the few options I had for a full meal, since I arrived too early to check into my hotel and too late to do breakfast. At least they had a place to sit and relax, with a big TV to distract me from the existential angst.


That’s about enough for a list of lessons learned.

Before this trip, I had used a rideshare service a grand total of one time: last summer in Washington, DC, when I needed to get back to my hotel after some night photography on the National Mall. I’ve already mentioned the snafu at the airport on this trip, but otherwise, I had a generally positive experience with Lyft. I even got a Lyft driver at the airport, whose ride had cancelled at the last minute, to just pick me up and take me to my hotel for a discount. Shh, don’t tell anyone. They’re not supposed to do that. The only real issue with ridesharing was after the Marlins game at night, but it’s more a problem with the ridiculous set-up that the Marlins have for the single location designated for all ridesharing pick-ups: the driver must text you their lane (A, B, or C) when they arrive, otherwise the bouncer won’t let you into the pick-up area. Very frustrating. But I digress.

My hotel allowed me to check in about 2 hours early (Sleep Inn—Miami Airport), and it was everything that I could’ve wanted. Also one of the cheapest places near the airport. Once I got everything settled there, I went out to Calle Ocho, the heart of the Cuban district known as Little Havana, and only about 4 or 5 blocks from loanDepot Park, the ludicrously named stadium for the Miami Marlins.

Aside from the heat, Calle Ocho was a total delight. Granted, it was the middle of the afternoon, so I’m not sure what it looks, sounds, and feels like after dark. But so many colorful buildings, LOTS of restaurants, and large rooster statues galore. I took pictures of and with several of them. Since I’d had a lackluster meal at Margaritaville before heading this way, I wasn’t so much interested in eating, however. But I did find a place called Azucar, renowned for their ice cream. I tried the “Burn in Hell, Fidel” flavor—chocolate with cayenne pepper, as mentioned above. I asked for a sample before I ordered it (I don’t normally do that, but the peppers made me hesitant); the worker gave me a small spoon with some ice cream, indicating that I wouldn’t taste the pepper until afterward. He was right. I ordered it and ate it all within the air-conditioned shop. But with each bite, I realized more that I wasn’t going to be able to get out of there without something to get the peppers out of my taste buds. So I came back and ordered mantecado (Cuban vanilla, with cinnamon) in a cone—same price as in a plain cup. One taste and I was in heaven. The pepper aftertaste dissipated, and I stepped back out into the heat. Immediately, my ice cream began dripping down my hand. I wouldn’t have much time to savor it, after all.

I also walked through Domino Park, where mostly old men gather to set up their dominoes in the shade of covered tables. Calle Ocho is a cool place, but it was getting near the time to open the baseball park. So I set off down the few blocks to the stadium, passing by more colorful houses along my way.

loanDepot Park looks like a fortress from the outside. Like a tortoise shell with struts along one side. The struts are the dome mechanism, which allows the stadium to open up on nice days. Mercifully, it was closed this day. I walked around the stadium, trying to find where they would let us in, and I finally found a spot with a boisterous lady who had set up an information kiosk. Other people had congregated, so we waited for about 10 minutes before the gates were opened. A smooth process later, and I was heading up the escalators to the main level of the stadium.

This was my first domed-stadium experience in Florida, and immediately, I felt less stressed when I entered the coolness and shade inside loanDepot Park. From home plate, you have a decent view of the Miami skyline through the windows along the outfield walkway. I collected my “first time” button (they don’t have certificates, bummer) at the Guest Services kiosk and then walked around the rest of the concourse. Lots of expensive food and drinks, and all Pepsi products. Gross. Hot dogs were about $3, the only thing in my price range, but the ice cream was keeping me full for the time being. Even the merch store was a disappointment—not very big, not a lot of selection. As it turns out, I spent zero dollars inside the stadium for the entire evening.

My seat was in the middle level of right field, first row. But it felt so far away. So after a few minutes, I got up and walked back down to the main level until I got to the outfield pavilion, underneath a large, red “Budweiser” sign. Even though it was still in the outfield, it felt closer to the action than did my original seat. And I stood for the whole game, but that was fine by me.

A few minutes before the game, some officials came and cleared out much of the area to make room for a lady to sing the national anthems: “O Canada” and “The Star-spangled Banner.” They always sing “O Canada” first. I know the words, but I began wondering whether this lady knew them, since she sang words I didn’t recognize. Perhaps it was the reverberations from the dome, though, since it was hard to hear what some of the announcers were saying later in the game, too. Also, the enclosed space does nothing for a singer trying to stay on pitch. That’s all I’ll say about that.

The game itself was tense. It didn’t help that the overwhelming majority of people around me were Marlins fans (though the stadium never got to even one-third capacity). Miami scored first, a solo home run in the second inning. The Jays were silent until the sixth inning, when super slugger Vladimir Guerrero, Jr, singled and got Bo Bichette in for a run. It was tied going into the ninth, when Lourdes Gurriel, Jr, doubled to bring Cavan Biggio home for the Jays. So the Jays were up 2-1 going into the bottom of the ninth, and Jordan Romano pitched a lights-out half-inning to give the Jays the win. I was very happy for that.

During all this, I had begun speaking to a couple from New York standing next to me. Mid-twenties. The guy took a picture of his girlfriend, and then of me, when the Miami Marlin (his name is Billy, btw) passed through our area around the fifth inning. That would’ve been the end of our association if an obnoxious and drunk Marlins fan hadn’t butted in and started shouting rude and racist things at Gurriel, who was in left field not far below us. The boyfriend (and I never got their names, sorry) told him to chill, but that just inspired the drunk to get louder, especially when more of his friends arrived. The situation escalated verbally, but never physically. Turns out the girl was born in Toronto but not really a fan since she didn’t live there long; the guy was from Philly and a Phillies fan. They were both down in Miami for a vacation and decided to check out a Marlins game. When the drunk dude stopped being so rude, he informed us that he and his friends had bet $3000 on the Marlins to win. But when he asked the boyfriend if he was a Blue Jays fan, the boyfriend responded, “I am now.” It was great. The rude dude and crew finally left at the start of the ninth, after jawing about how the Marlins were gonna come back. We all celebrated their departure, and then when the Jays scored a run in the top of the ninth, I don’t think I ever cheered so loudly before. And the boyfriend was right there, too. It’s surprising what an antagonist will do for your cheering loyalties.

So I got to go home with a W. My trip hadn’t been in vain.

The next morning, I got to the airport at the recommended time, but it was way earlier than it needed to be (though not as early as my 5:55 AM arrival in Atlanta the day before). After everyone was on the airplane and had been sitting there for 15 or so minutes, the pilot informed us that they needed to do more calculations because someone had put too much fuel in the tanks. Twenty minutes later and we finally started moving, but not for long. Turns out there was some technical thing they had to recalibrate, which they had found on the inspection. Another 30 minutes. So the flight finally took off after about 90 minutes of us sitting there.

I had emailed the airport shuttle company to let them know I’d be at least an hour late, so they put me on the next shuttle out of there. I probably would’ve made that, too, if the Atlanta airport signs were a bit clearer. Instead, I ended up at the drop-off point instead of the arrivals gate (déjà vu from Miami), so I missed it. I called their office, and they put me on the next shuttle, an hour later. So I took the time to catch my breath and order something at TGI Friday’s, which was the closest restaurant to the baggage claim. I got a HUGE slice of rainbow cake—it’s Pride Month, after all—and managed to get out of there before my shuttle left me again.

All in all, it was a whirlwind, but it was a decent adventure.

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Comments

[Nic]

This sounds like a nice one day getaway. It was a lot cheaper than I thought it would be as well.

[Will Abney]

Right time, right price
It truly was. It was originally supposed to be a road trip with a friend, but when he wasn't able to do it, and I found a flight that would basically be the same price as the gas it took to get down there in a car but in less than half the time, it was a no-brainer.