Little known fact: on the Eighth Day, God shook all the eccentrics of America into the nation’s Southeast corner pocket. And They Became South Florida. And It Was Weird.
Here’s how it works: cruise down I-95 from the northeast corridor and at some point, near Richmond, you cross the invisible line separating the North from the South. Now go further, all the way to America’s tip. Somewhere around Orlando, you crossed another line, separating the rest of Florida from reality. Here in Miami, the Everglades and the Keys, things are a little Alice in Sweaty Wonderland. It’s the weather, y’know; all the humidity and hurricanes drive everyone a little crazy. And the alligators. And the mosquitoes, goddamn them. And the people, of course.
What was once a citrus farming town is now a pan-American mosaic, the most Latin city in the world north of Mexico. Throw in enterprising Caribbean immigrants, Jewish Holocaust survivors and their children, a fantabulous gay party scene, mad rednecks, the cast-off spawn of the dinosaur age cruising local waterways, and a South Beach celebrity scene that would make OK! magazine wee itself in joy, and, well…Look guys: it’s weird here. And beautiful. Think of those clean lines slimming down a deco hotel on Miami Beach. The impossibly sexy people lining up at a Fort Lauderdale club. That pale full moon making love to the Everglades on a dank, sweaty night.
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