Me o my am me twentysix… 3.24.26

Me o my am me twentysix… 3.24.26

Maybe I am a glutton for punishment, but I decided I wanted to try to see the Miami Open tennis tournament again. I got some tickets that were even cheaper than the original ones that got rained out. I was still fighting Ticketmaster to get a refund on the tickets that were rained out. I reasoned, now that I know the way it should be easier. 

I put my things in a plastic bag because backpacks aren’t allowed. That included my lunch, my kindle, my charger, sunglasses, waterbottle, headphones,glasses in case my contacts failed, umbrella, and raincoat. That’s a lot of stuff and that is just the bare essentials. On the way to the Government center I found a canvas bag on the sidewalk and picked it up. It was relatively clean. It was more secure than just a plastic bag and even though it wasn’t clear, I could always fold it up and stuff it somewhere if they didn’t allow it. My lunch, I could stuff my raincoat, which had big pockets. 

I knew there was a 9:30 am train from Opa Locka so I was aiming for that. Again I got there 30 minutes early (better too early than too late). I got my one stop ticket for 50 cents and walked over to a cafeteria to get some coffee. The woman was quite nasty for some reason. She couldn’t believe that I wanted coffee with no sugar, only mild. I am pretty sure she was Cuban. I got my reasonably priced coffee and sipped it while waiting for the train. I was kind of rationing my food so I could last all day. I would eat my snack as late as possible. 

The train came more or less on time. I walked the 10 blocks to 27th Ave through the quirky Opa Locka with its Moorish architecture. Along the way I found a can of black beans.It wasn’t opened or damaged so I picked it up. A 100 yards down the road there was a food giveaway going in in Opa-Locka with a lot of elderly people lining up for boxes of food. The wait for the bus was about 30 minutes. When it came I looked around and saw some other people who were likely going to the same place. There was a couple from Brazil who knew a lot more about transportation than I did. “We took the 27 bus from Martin Luther King Metrorail Station. That was great. That took one step out of the plan. Instead of having to walk, metrorail, train, walk, bus, I could just Metrorail bus. 

With the help of the bus driver,  we got off at the right place. I tried to fix in my mind where I was so I could get back. It was route 199 that connected with 27th ave. There was a Dunkin donuts on the corner. That would be nice on the way back. I hid the beans behind the bus stop. There was no way I could get a can of beans in the stadium. 

We went in the SE corner of the stadium. I found my seat but it was actually behind the courts. Security was a little tight. Yellow shirted workers were checking everyone’s seat. My guy was glued to his phone. I moved over to the middle of the court. It wasn’t crowded at all.  I was in the third tier and it was sunny and hot out. I was glad that this part of the stadium was in the shade. When I got there there were some doubles partners that were warming up. 

The first match between Russian Medvedev, ranked 4 in the world, and German Koepfer, ranked 50 was running a little late already. I settled down to watch a good match. It was hard fought in the first set, going to a tie breaker, but in the second set, the German fell apart. There was a German family in front of me and they were cheering him on in German. In the second set when he fell behind 3-0, they all got up and left, probably to go watch some other German player. 

It was fun to watch the tennis, see the strategy, watch the power and accuracy of the shots. I loved the donk donk sound of a ball hitting a racquet perfectly. I had experienced that sound a few times in my tennis career. In another way though it was easy to get hypnotized by the back and forth and forget who was winning, who was playing. Still it was great to see such good tennis. 

The second match was a Belarus player, Azurenka,  against a Russian player Putintseva. Azurenka was a former no. 1 player 10 years ago and a 2 time major winner. At 34 she was one of the elders of the tour but she was still going deep in tournaments and making a lot of money, $37,000,000 on the tour. In fact, you don’t have to be a world number one to be rich in tennis. Most of the ranked players are millionaires. It was a good match. You had to give it to the Russian. She never gave up and kept coming back again and again when you thought she was done. There was a Russian contingent in one of the bleachers that kept chants going for both Medvedev and Putintseva. 

I was sitting behind the tv control panel and could watch how they switched cameras around. Also they had one of those cameras that was suspended by cables and somehow could move anywhere it wanted. It was fascinating to me and I wondered how it worked. Between matches and during breaks the camera zoomed in on people and it seemed to be a source of major amusement when you saw your picture on 4 giant electronic signs. At one point they zeroed in on Mike Tyson, former boxer, and he looked embarrassed. When they zoomed in on him a few seconds later he showed off his biceps like Popeye. Then everybody else who got spotlighted on the camera started mimicking Mike. Maybe it was more fun than the tennis. Maybe we should all regularly meet in groups of thousands and project our images on giant electronic signs. Our 3 seconds of fame. 

Between the 2 and 3rd match I decided to go to another venue, the Grandstand to see the end of the Sinner and O’Connell match. However, the grandstand had much less seating so it was hard to get it. Also it was all in the beating sun. I headed back to my shady seat.

The last and most exciting match was the Spanish Alcaraz, world number 2, against Italian Musetti ranked number 24. Alcaraz is a very charismatic player who at age 20 has already won 27 million dollars. He occasionally made brilliant shots; sometimes between his legs, drop shots at impossible angles, and at one point while taking an overhead, he jumped up in the air before hitting it to presumably get more power. His game was more than just hit the ball back over and over and over. He won the match 6-3 , 6-3 but in reality, there wasn’t that much of a difference between the 2 players. Just a little at important moments. Musetti hit the ball incredibly hard and had some great shots too.  Sitting next to me was a nice young couple. He was from Brazil and she was from Argentina. They were living here and she was trying to learn English. They had met on an online dating site. At home, they spoke mostly Portuguese. 

After the Alcarez match was over, at 7:30 pm, the Brazilian said he would wait around and watch the next match even though our tickets only extended to that match. “How will they know?” he reasoned. Soon we found out. They cleared the entire stadium and checked every ticket to make sure that only evening ticket holders got a seat. 

Something weird was going on with my stomach. I was having minor diarrhea. I couldn’t figure out why. I rarely had that problem with my diet. I went to the bathroom and confirmed there was a problem, not of the solid kind but more of the liquid kind. I cleaned up. Hmmm. What was it? It must have been that coffee or that milk she put in it. Weird and uncomfortable. 

I was wondering if I could remember how to get back. I remembered 199 and turned there. I was looking for that Dunkin Donuts. Finally I saw it in the distance. I had done it. As I came up the 27th ave I saw the worst thing. The 27 bus was just leaving. I went to retrieve my can of beans. It was still there. I walked over to Dunkin and it was closed. Damn. I had been looking forward to that all day. 

I met another couple who was heading back. They were also Italian. They had an 8 year old boy who was sharp as a tack, even spoke English. The wife was nice and the father seemed out of it. He just sat by himself. Luckily, the bus came after only 15 minutes. We now had a long long ride to the Metrorail. 

We got there after about an hour and I got on. It was still another 30 minutes ride from there. I had met a woman at the Hamilton Show who had told me that the best jazz club in Miami was the Corner. I checked my body. It was surprising how tired I was. I hadn’t really done anything except sit there all day. Maybe all that concentration wore me out. I checked my map. If I got off one station early I would be only 7 blocks from the Corner. I debated.  Hmmm. I hadn’t had any food since 3 pm (missed dinner) , I had mild diarrhea, What about my sleep pattern? How would I get back? Cue Voice “Hey. You are in Miami”. I decided to go for it. 

I walked. Along the way I found a convenience store run by a family. The prices weren’t too bad. I bought some Chiboni yogurt, a banana and some peanuts. I ate the yogurt and half a banana. I found the club. In fact, though it was 11 pm. There were lots of people on the streets and around the club. Wait a minute. I had been here before. One of the street stage people had told me about this place as a jam session and I came here and they said it was no jam session. Still, I was here so I should go in. 

There was a 30ush young black doorman. He looked at me and said, “What do you want?” “I want to go in.” He kind of shook his head in disbelief. Did I look that bad? “I have to look in the bag”. I showed him all the stuff in there. Ok the plastic container was for my finished lunch. I wouldn’t need it again as I was not going to any more tennis. I threw it out. I drank the rest of my water. He looked at the can of beans and shook his head in disbelief. He patted me down. I had all my other stuff in my pockets. I had to take it all out to show him. “Look man. You have to buy something in there, You just can’t hang out. Man, talk about preconceptions and stereotypes. I tried to explain to him about the tennis tournament then finally just opened up my wallet and showed him the about $80 I had in there. “I have money man.” Reluctantly he let me in. 

Once inside I could see what kind of place this was. It was a hip cool place where young artists and wanna-be’s hung out. There was a small band with a beautiful young woman singing. Her voice was good but it was more her style and song selection that was outstanding. She sang unusual songs that other jazz musicians would never consider. The guitar player who greatly resembled a mole was very good in his squinting way. I stayed for a song and then of course they took a break. The doorman walked by. I showed him my diet coke. 

The bar was crowded and everyone seemed to know each other. I put on my mask. I really felt like I didn’t belong here. I couldn’t connect with anyone. What was wrong with me? Maybe I had become an introvert, someone uncomfortable being around people. 

I walked outside to get some air. I saw the singer walking back after getting a piece of pizza. I complimented her singing. She was so sweet. She wasn’t judging me at all. “Oh. You are a sax player. Great.” She didn’t have to be so nice, but she was. We exchanged insta. I went in to listen to the next set. At least the first 4 songs. 

I went. I was too uncomfortable in there. I considered my options. I looked up metermover. It closed at 12 am. It was now 11:59 pm. Never make it. I could LYFT. I looked at the map. It was just 11 blocks to Government Center.

The almost full moon was shining bright. The reflections were lovely. The building to my left was gleaming with hi-tech but subtle lights. It was like another world and it reflected off the nearby glass building. This was my world. This was where I felt comfortable. I saw an old black man in a wheelchair, who seemed to be struggling. 

“Are you ok sir? Do you need help.”  “I always need help” “are you hungry? I have a banana and some peanuts” “do you have any chocolate?” what am I a 7/11. “No, sorry” and I started to walk away. “What kind of peanuts do you have?” “I don’t know I havent had any yet.” I opened the bag and pulled out a good fistfful. He took them as another one of his friends walked. 

I walked away over the gleaming river to my refuge. I fell asleep by 1 am.