SoFi on a Friday

So Friday was a great day for hookey, as the weather is gorgeous, and D2 was able to fly in from Gville for the weekend. Wifey and I fetched her from MIA, and drove to Brickell where D1 was waiting, and we took off for South Beach. D2's 23rd birthday is February 3, but since we won't be together, we decided to celebrate early, and as Ds has only been to the veritable Joe's Stone Crab once, D1 suggested lunch there. On the way over, D1 allowed as to how she's NEVER been to Joe's, even though she's a Miami native and foodie. Waiting for us outside was Jonathan, D2's boyfriend, and it was his first time as well. We were there at opening, 11:30, so we were seated right away, and joked with the waiter that both Jonathan's folks and Wifey and I were guilty of a form of child abuse -- Joe's witholding. We remedied that right away, with piles of crab claws, hash browns, and an order of their famous fried chicken. As we ate, the restaurant filled to capacity, and our waiter brought a slice of key lime pie on the house with a candle for D2's birthday. He also gave his contact info to D1, after she said she avoided Joe's because of the absurd waiting times for dinner. No more, said the Rutgers and new FIU accounting grad, who probably makes three times the salary of a starting CPA by being a Joe's waiter -- now D1 had an "in." All in all, it was a fine early bday for D2. We left Joe's, and walked around SoFi, so named because it's the part of South Beach south of 5th street, and like lower Manhattan, the hippest and trendiest part of the Beach. I bored Jonathan and the Ds with tales of my family vacations there, and how, as a teen walking with my Dad along Ocean Drive and Collins Avenue, I fell in love with Miami. Back then, the area was run down, and the ancient Jews were dying off. Now, gleaming hotels are everywhere, and the old Chicken Unlimited where we are burgers and fries, across from the Pier, is next to Prime 112, arguably the most expensive (and worth it) restaurant in Florida. After a mere delay of 30 years, the city rebuilt the pier they promised to replace when they tore down the last one, and we walked onto it. If there's a more spectacular vista around, I haven't seen it. The pier runs parallel to Government Cut, and the huge ships sail right past. The gorgeous ocean is to the east, and the strip of South Beach pastel hotels extends to the north. The skyline of Miami is to the west, past the port. The pier was full of Europeans snapping photos. A ginger German girl took a shot for us, and D1 returned the favor. A huge pelican sat on the railing, drying its wings. The sun reflected off the water, and I told Jonathan and the Ds the history of Fisher Island, right across the Cut. Wifey advised she wouldn't want to live in a place you needed a ferry to get to, and I thanked her for saving me the $20 million or so a house there would cost. We walked back through South Pointe Park, where an old dog track used to be. I recalled being there with my family -- one time my brother in law Dennis came down for business, and my parents and I went there with him -- must have been about 1980 or 81. The park is now filled with dogs, and hipsters, and several Hasids there with their family. I offered a couple of "Good Shabbos" greetings, which the Ds found hilarious... We stopped in a liquor store at the base of Portofino for some cold water, and I chatted up the owner. We talked vodka, and he told me to try a bottle of Purity, a Swedish import he claimes was "scary good." I bought a bottle, and later in the evening Jonathan gave it a go. The owner was right -- smoothest I ever tasted... We stopped at D1's and fetched the spoiled Spaniel, to dog sit while D1 went to Key West for a bachelorette party. D2 and Jonathan lingered on Brickell, and later came by. We met for dinner in South Miami, and then came home to watch the Heat game, a team Jonathan and I both like. They won, and the vodka was fine... So it was a blessed and banner day for us -- a bit of history mixed with the present. The ocean breeze that blew down First Street gave Wifey and idea -- maybe she could flee there in the Summer for some relief from the heat, instead of Asheville. The breeze will be warmer in July, of course, but the memories of that strip of land and its place in my heart will always be sweet.