Adventure in the Grove: The First 24 Minutes

Ap last night Wifey and I met D1 and the spoiled spaniel at one of our go-to restaurants: Berries in the Grove. It's a lovely casual spot build around oak trees on SW 27th Avenue, and they allow dogs, which makes it a family favorite in my dog-philic clan. Wifey's BFF Edna was in town, helping her wildy annoying parents move to a different condo, and she drove to see Diane's condo before the two ladies joined us. They did, Diane ordered some Moet Chandon for the ladies, and I drank a few Stolis on ice. The host came by and asked if anyone had a Shaq Man Car -- champaigne colored. Why yes -- I did? Did I park too close to the dumster, or something. No, he said, some guests had witnessed a white Kia hit it and drive away. The diners wrote down the tag number of the hit and runner... The host introduced me to the crime fighters: nice group of YUCAS (young upwardly mobile Cuban Americans) sitting in the front. The fellow gave me the info, and said he was tired of assholes pulling stuff like this. I agreed, and called the Miami PD. Surprisingly a short time later, a young cop came by and met me. He took the info, and called in the tag. Alas, it came back "no vehicle." Either the offenders had a bogus tag, or my saviors wrote it down innaccurately. Still, he gave me a report, and I'll see if I can find the bastards on Monday. I returned to the restaurant, and ordered a round of drinks for the YUCAS. They were most appreciative. Then I returned to my group of ladies, and had dinner. It was festive: even Wifey drank a few glasses of the 'paigne, as my friend Stuart used to call it. The damage was slight -- a small dent in the door. I'm guessing it will cost about the same as the round of drinks I bought, to fix. But as usual, the tale is the thing. We now have our flirt with the First 48 to remember...