Tit-baring with the pinkies
The South Beach Ad Show with La Espanita is done, and now I'm visiting my friends the Dins in Fort Lauderdale. Mi Ya Mi was strange and disorienting: it is bad to land in the US, which confuses me enough, without being in such a schitzo place like Mi Ya Mi.
I arrived on a Friday night, met up with La Espanita at the airport, and we taxied to our cheap first night's hotel, the San Juan. It was freaky that the taxi driver could understand us, in both English and Spanish. (La Espanita doesn't speak Guoyu, which after living in Shanghai five years is also freaky.) Saturday, we were supposed to move to the Delano, went to do so, and were told our room was in the other conference hotel. The Shore Club is two blocks down, and so very not worth $300 a night. Tiny, ugly room, La Espanita and I had to share a bed. And, prepaid, we were stuck there two nights.
Really, the Shore Club is a shithole with a trendy bar and a nice pool. It is a magnet for the American concept of "beautiful people" to come and hook up. Observations: 1. I will never be a be "beautiful person" in America, 2. I don't want to be, 3. American "beautiful people" are truly frightening. The women, okay, are hot but skanky. Super skinny, minimal muscles, and gravity-defying tits, bared for "sunbathing" or else classily clad in itty-bitty straps of shiny fabric. Live-for-today tans, expensively blonde hair, and please-just-focus-on-my-tits faces. The men are just icky. We pinkies often bulk up muscle-wise pretty easily, so when a white guy of stocky build tries, he ends up looking like an ape. And these are the sort of men who just do strength training, no cardio or calorie control, so along with the general bulk and bulging biceps they also have the bulging male pregnancy. Being Mi Ya Mi, they have also tanned beyond pink to a deeply disturbing shade of burnt orange. And then there's the tragic fashion sensibilities of the straight white American male. *Shudders* It boggles my mind that guys like this can ever get laid, let alone that they're considered the epitome of "hot" in this society. Sometimes when in the US I have caught slivers of reality dating shows ("My eyes! They burn!"), and they're all populated by this sort of ugly bloke. I simply: do not get it.
Adding to the annoyance, to get to our room upstairs we had to pass through the Shore Club's bar, which at night was packed with ever more of such creepy creatures. Highly unpleasant. And then the hotel service was shite, they tried to charge for EVERYTHING, and even strewed the room with crappy merchandise for sale. Bleh. The Shore Club is definitely on the Vixen Shit List. So, after our prepaid two days there, we moved to the Sagamore, where I had stayed last year. $265 a night for a gorgeous, spacious, comfortable suite, a steal for that stretch of Collins Road. The Sagamore is a boutique art hotel, and the owner has an impressive collection of great contemporary pieces, mostly American but with a smattering of European and Latin, and rotates what's on display in the lobby and restaurant. The entire design is very cool, not "cool", and in an invitingly accessible way, rather than terminally hip like the Delano next door. The crowd there is a range, old and young, American and European, gay and straight, but all fairly melllow and sophisticated. Topless sunbathing there, too, but it's for the sun, not for the "Hello, boys!" Service is great, very efficient and friendly. It's nice that they ask and will remember your name, but annoying when some of the older Latin guys get too flirty. (The younger ones are a different matter altogether!) I had to make a desperate beline to the elevator every afternoon when Ricardo was on duty. Still, great hotel, highly recommended.
