The Long Ago Date

So last Saturday night, D1 asked Wifey and me to join her and a visiting NY friend for dinner. It's Miami Spice time, where most local restuarants offer prix fixe dinners -- as well as charging one price for several different entrees, apps, and desserts. It's usually a good deal -- like $39 for a trip tik that would normally be like $50 or more, and we usually take advantage of this marketing program -- designed to lure locals out during this most oppressive month of August. D1, like any good native Miamian, has a sense of local lore and history, and she knew that a "vintage" waterfront place, the Chart House, would be demolished soon. So she chose it, and we met there. They built the CH in the early 80s, and many of the first guests were multimillionaire weed and coke dealers, who hung out at the Mutiny Hotel across Bayshore Drive. Ah, those halcyon days, where Colombians killed so many of each other that the Dade County ME's office had to borrow refrigerated trucks from Burger King to handle the overflow of corpses. The Ds are fascinated about our living here then, long before they were born, and I always explain that like most things, every day folks weren't affected, with the exception of knowing a dealer here and there, and knowing not to get into arguments at traffic intersections, lest you find yourself looking at the bad end of an Uzi... Anyway, Wifey and I had a date at the CH, in December, 1983. My 1L first semester was nearly over, and I took her out to celebrate, using some of my student loan money. I excitedly told her that my friend Mike had invited me to go snow mobiling after finals -- and I had never done that before. Wifey had thought I was going to spend more time with her, and as a result may have broken up with me afterwards. After more than three decades, we no longer remember details... Well, the food and drink last weekend were fine, and there was even an unexpected treat: I ran into Nelson, my favorite waiter from Fox's, a local tavern. Nelson was there over 25 years, and a big reason for attending that venerable place. He's a gay NY Rican fellow, and always the life of the party. When Fox's was sold in 2012, he left, and the place has lacked since. He and I hugged, and caught up, and became instant FaceBook (tm) friends. He told me that since the CH is closing, he may reappear at Fox's -- the owners invited him back. I sure hope he accepts -- his laughter and banter and assurance that the nasty, pretty 30 years ago but now looking leathery barkeep, pours a decent sized martini make the place worth patronizing. During a break in the conversation Saturday, I looked out at Sailboat Bay, and the liveaboard boats. D1 was shocked to learn it's free to anchor and live there -- but you have to do so without electric, water, and septic service. Many of the old hippies still do -- you can see them rowing back and forth to land. They're a dying breed, along with the CH and neighbor Scotty's -- our other waiter told us the "big money guys" who are building high rise condos across Bayxhore, where the luxury Grand Bay Hotel was, are behind the deals. So we have the memories. And, apparently, Wifey forgave me the snowmobile trip.