Moving from New York to Florida- Deltona, Florida no less, was, undoubtedly one of the worst moves of my short life. I was used to the fast paced, hectic, yet wonderful life of a New Yorker. The sounds of car horns and expletives were what woke me up in the morning, much like the strong cup of coffee many others would prefer.
Unfortunately, being only 11, I had to go “wherever” my mom went, and I had to create a whole new life for myself. I was that “new kid”, the one that I always befriended, but the one that the majority of others coined as “weird” or “strange.” However, I feel that I had every right to hate the current predicament I found myself in. Not only did we choose to drive down through 10 states to get to my new “destiny”, but we drove straight into Hurricane Charley. Yes, that Hurricane Charley.
I was in Florida for no more than 4 hours before we lost power, and that was all it took to convince me that my new life was in fact a very undesirable one, and that my mom was deliberately trying to ruin my life and ultimately punish me for something I am sure now that I must have committed in a past life.
Trying to console my eternal sadness, combined with her need to satiate my grandmother’s inexhaustible need to travel away from Deltona, my mom decided to book us a trip to Miami, where we- my mom, grandmother, and 3 brothers would squeeze, comfortably, into the one bedroom apartment that my Titi Sandra owned in the infamous South Beach. I call it infamous because we not only decided to come to the Manhattan of Florida, but we came during Spring Break.
And everyone knows that what happens in Miami during Spring Break stays in Miami- forever.
I refuse to lie, it was amazing, but it seemed so short that my thirst for the city life of New York could not be quelled with only 2 days experience in South Beach. We walked around during the days, which I can only assume was another form of torture brought on to me by some supernatural power, because it couldn’t have been any hotter than hell that day.
Yet, we did get to see some amazing sights, including the Holocaust Museum, where I must admit, I shed some tears, for the innocent fallen, and where I came to the realization that I must have been Hitler in my past life. Probably a stretch, but at this point in my life, I don’t rule anything out.
We also had the opportunity to go to an authentic diner where I was able to devour a true Cuban sandwich. It was amazing, and more than recommendable. Here’s my pitch: GO TO MIAMI AND EAT A CUBAN SANDWICH.
In Miami, I learned a lot of things. First, if you’re a guy, bring a reliable camera with a good zoom because there are a lot of shirtless girls at the beach who WOULD probably mind if you tried to take a picture of them. More importantly, however, I learned to just have fun. Miami had what I expected it to. Lots of Cubans, which I say now, I’m not opposed to in any way, the Holocaust Museum, a true jewel full of the truth of our ancestors, and many opportunities that you won’t find in Deltona.
The experience was unforgettable and though I don’t feel any more cosmopolitan, I do feel educated in a way where the information school provides wouldn’t suffice.
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