Me o my am me thirtyone… 3.31.24

Me o my am me thirtyone… 3.31.24

I got up earlier than usual. I checked the website for Setai Hotel and sure enough it said there was a special event; an Easter Brunch. Reservations required. Also I saw that there was another concert by a supposedly famous sax player; also from 11-4 pm. Wow. This was working out like clockwork. I could go to Jean’s, concert at 20th and then walk down to the other place at 14th and then go to sit on the beach. 

 I  prepared my meals and my breakfast in record time. I was running out of food. All I had left were some frozen veggies, half a cauliflower, unlimited quinoa and unlimited beans. I was even running out of pepper from the pepper shaker (and that never happens) and soy sauce. No eggs for breakfast. I could have rushed to the Publix store but that would take a good hour. I just made oatmeal with water and ½ of a browning banana. 

My goal was to hit the bus stop at 10 am and I did a good job of getting there by 10:15. Just as I came up I saw a 100 bus leaving. Damn. Then miraculously as it pulled out, there was another 100 bus! Before I could get there, it too pulled out! Damn. Deja vu. Miraculously though, another 100 bus rounded the corner and pulled up to me just as I got to the bus stop. It must be the deployment of the 100 buses I surmised. 

I got on the bus and amazingly I was the only person on the bus, all the way to Miami Beach. I felt like a real VIP.  I rode bus past my normal South Pointe Beach Spot. 

I found the hotel with no problem. It was huge. Walking inside I saw that this was a very elegant place. Think Hilton; Think Hyatt. The lobby was decorated with ancient Asian statues and beautiful paintings. There were pools and fountains. There was a hum from all the waiters and waitresses buzzing around. I felt out of my element with my raggedy sax case, my bulging backpack, and my insulated food box. 

I walked to the entrance to the elaborate banquet where the event was being held. There were 2 people. The one who seemed to be in charge looked me up and down. She nodded to the man at her side. For some reason he didn’t do anything and I just walked in like I was supposed to be there. Once in I quickly scanned the place and noticed a bar back behind the bar. I sat in the corner. No one was looking at or coming after me. 

The band had already started. It was already 11:30. The band was just starting their second set. I walked up on the bandstand. “Jean”. He turned around to see me and he seemed pleased that I had come. How many people do what they say they going to do these days. 

Right away I could see that this guy WAS great. He was playing a flugelhorn, which is like a trumpet but with a more mellow tone. Even though it was “old music” every note played was great. His sound was almost palpable. It brought forth images in my mind of golden shapes and birds. I knew most of the songs but not all. There was a singer also. She sounded a lot like Billy Holiday. Jagged notes falling out of the sky and melting wet on my face. In fact, the other players were great too. Great guitar, great drummer. These were among the best players in South Florida. 

Even though I was behind the band, it still sounded great. A few times I walked around to the front of the band to hear the difference. Not much. Coming back, I looked into the buffet room. Oh my. It was full on. There were containers of lobster, shrimp, crabs, oysters, prime cut meats, blueberries, yogurts, deserts. 

I went back to my seat. I had to make a big decision. I was already in the event. Perhaps I could also go to the buffet. Who would know? I debated back and forth as beautiful diners all dressed up in colorful easter dresses and bonnets glided by with dishes full of salmon and deserts. Hey. Not fair. How can I make a good decision when you are tempting me so?

The sounds interrupted my musings. Wasn’t this enough. Maybe a younger Frank would have pushed it, but I was listening to great music and no one was bothering me. I had my gruel anyway. 

At about 12:30, I reluctantly pulled myself away. I guess they weren’t going to take a break. For the kind of money they were pulling, maybe they shouldn’t take a break. I said goodbye to Jean with sign language and a big thumbs up. 

I walked down to the next place on my list, Bugsy’s. I walked in. This was a far cry from the Setai. Still it was nice. There was a woman giving complimentary small wine glasses. I took it and asked about the sax player. “There is no sax player today sir; only a pianist. I showed her the listing. She shrugged. 

I thought, hmmm… my adventure is like that old joke about the guy who is flying and there is engine failure. It’s one very bad thing followed by one good thing. He is falling in his plane, the engine dies. Luckily he had a parachute. That’s good. Unfortunately the parachute doesn’t open, that’s bad. Fortunately there is a haystack beneath him. That’s good. Unfortunately there is a pitchfork in the haystack. That’s bad. Luckily he misses the pitchfork. That’s good. Unluckily he missed the pitchfork. That’s good. Unluckily, he missed the haystack…xxxxxxx. 

The Setai was good. The Bugsy was bad. My next stop in the plan was the beach. I could have walked the 14 blocks but with all my stuff I decided to wimp out and wait for the trolley. A couple from Africa or Haiti was also on the trolley. They asked me for help. “Where’s the beach?” I told them I was going to the beach. “You can follow me.” I gave them my Miami Beach South spiel as if I were a tour guide. “You have to go to Lincoln Blvd. You have to go to the Bass Museum.” They nodded. They seemed so out of it. I led them to the South Pointe Promenade where I would play later. “We will come see you. “ they were so appreciative. Apparently they couldn’t check into their hotels till later. 

For my part, I was thrilled to be at the beach by 1:30. That left me a lot of beach time. I looked out at the beach expectantly and for the first time since venturing this far south, there were no waves at all. What happened? That’s a bad thing. 

I resigned myself to not body surfing on this day. Nap. That’s what I need. I wanted to take a long nap in the beautiful weather. The beach was especially crowded today, Easter Sunday. There were a lot of family groups who came well prepared, large canopies, mountains of food and of course their own music. I found what I thought would be a good spot in a high muffin density area. I laid all my stuff out, being careful to protect my sax. Just as I got comfortable and ready to dive into unconsciousness a new neighbor arrived with a poom poom poom. Ahhhh reggaeton. Damn reggaeton. 

I had to move. It was driving me crazy. Even with my ear canceling headphones. I had to move to a less dense area. The closer I was to the water the better I could just hear water waves and less poom poom. I was able to take my nap. After about 20 minutes I woke up. 

I decided I would go in the water even though there were no waves. It was quite refreshing. I stayed in the water about 30 minutes and then went out for another nap. Oh….this is the life. Then there was an unexpected guest. A group of people were following a person dressed in a plastic shark costume. It was baby shark, da da da da da dum baby shark da da da da da dum.It caused a minor sensation on the beach. Baby was passing out small easter eggs with little prizes inside of them. Mine was a tiny motor car. Ok. I DID get one. We are all kids at heart and I wanted my free prize. Then it was nap time again. 

I slept longer than I had intended. It was already 4:30 when I woke up and since the water was still flat, I decided that would have to be it for my beach time. I headed over to the promenade for the last time with mixed feelings.

I went over to get ready and debated getting a coffee. There was too long a line. I would get it later maybe. I found a good spot. The only problem with this place was that you had to constantly move around to get out of the direct sunlight. I hid behind some palms for a while until the sun played tag with them and drove me out. Then I found another palm shaded place. Sometimes I just sat on the ground under a palm tree for a while. I guess I was quite the photo opp. Lot’s of people wanted to take my picture and I didn’t mind at all. The Haitian couple walked back from the beach. I guess it was time for them to check in. They didn’t even slow down their walk to listen for a moment but that was ok. 

The cruise ships rolled out. This Sunday crowd was especially spirited. They waved and cheered and went wild when the departing passengers seemed to wave back. I was still in awe of the size and breadth of these behemoths. What were the odds of them seeing me? What were the odds that they could hear me? 

Then another surprise; the goofy Swiss guy from the boat tour showed up. He seemed completely blown away that he was seeing me again. He just couldn’t get over it. In his mind we were long lost brothers. He wanted to talk over old times. I just wanted to play. I had to involve him. As I played I could see he had a bit of dance in him. I encouraged him to let it out.  

He was going all out. He didn’t mind looking stupid to celebrate his good fortune. I knew this would make a great story once he got home. He started dancing and really he was the dumbest dancer ever. I kept telling him he looked like he was shadow boxing but this guy grinned at everything I said. His wife was laughing like crazy and the daughter looked mortified. The wife was pretty funny, still the best documentarian, she was laying out her angles and shots with flair. I felt sorry for the daughter and tried to include her. Her dewey eyes shone with admiration for me. Wow. A real musician. So young and innocent. She was doing well putting up with her parents on vacation. I know that can feel restrictive. They didn’t want to leave and that was ok as long as I could play. After about 20 minutes of hanging out, he handed me a $20 bill. I refused it, but he insisted and so did his wife. His wife later sent me the video. It is pretty surreal. 

The time flew by in my little dream world. I watched the sun set behind the skyline of Miami. Now I didn’t worry about the sun anymore. Soon it was 8 pm. I had been playing more than 3 hours and my edge was gone. The coffee shop was still open and I was grateful for that. The big question was how to get back. 14 or 100? I opted for the 14 today and after a relatively short wait of 15 minutes I got on this bus for the first time. 

Again I was acting as a tour guide for lost tourists; guiding to their hotel from the Omni Center to Metromover; I had little doubt I would go to Lagniaape for the last time. It was a guy named Tom McCormick. From the description on the webpage, this guy was amazing, but actually all the announcements on the Lagnaippe website sounded amazing. I wonder if the artists wrote them themselves with a little coaching (make yourself sound amazing). 

I got to the club without too many problems. I was surprised that the place was only half full. I got a first row seat with no problems. Tom McCormick was an older guy, about 60ish and was an old times standard player. It was nothing flashy, nothing I hadn’t heard before but really nothing to get too excited about. Technically, he was fine and had all the tools, it just was that I had heard it all before. 

As usual, the band took a break just after I arrived. The guy sitting next to me was sending off cold vibes powerfully. There was no one else to talk to. Everyone seemed distant. I went to talk to the band but they were also rather cool. Ok. I would stay for one set and that would be it. 

The band came back for another set and I enjoyed it. Most of the songs I knew but there were some new ones. I had read, he also composed. Around 11:30 I noticed I started spacing out. It was time to go. I went to wait for the 9 bus. I waited and waited and waited but no dice. I considered the LYFT, but I really didn’t like the drivers around here at night. There was another option; I went back to the 3rd street. It was busier and maybe the 3 bus came more frequently. 

Luckily my gamble paid off. The 3 came rumbling along after about 15 minutes. It took me to Government Center. It was my last time walking home over the Miami River Flagler Street drawbridge. The air was balmy and cool at the same time. The river laid out like a lover waiting for me to come to her in a cool bed, lights rippling towards me invitingly. 

A boat with late night partiers was passing under the bridge. I looked down on them with smiles. I still had a long walk ahead carrying all my stuff. This was the way to leave a city after a month of exploring, with regret; with tears. The river held my tears. I would miss you Miami. I knew the city a little. I didn’t know the people much at all. I could love you Miami. I will  always love you Miami.