South Beach For Old Guys

So my law partner Paul's best college bud Frank was in town from LA, to go diving in the Keys with his youngest daughter. He dropped her at FLL on Saturday am, and checked into a South Beach hotel to get some more sun before he headed home. Paul was going skiing, and asked if I might entertain Frank on Saturday night. I might. Frank is a foot doc to the stars, and our partner Stuart uses him as an expert, and so Stu asked along as well. We met at Prime 112, which only had the earliest reservation of 5:30 pm available. I drove to the valet, as parking otherwise is near impossible SoFi (South of Fifth Street), and the fellow announced "$20 -- payable now." I handed over the money, and thought how my late mother would never pay $20 per person for a meal, let alone parking. Stu was inside, and we had a drink. Frank was characteristically late -- a habit that once caused his long suffering wife to cut one of his suits to shreds in an anger fit following telling him that he really needed to leave for an event on time... Anyway, the anxious hostess asked us if we really were going to all be there, as the place was packed more than usual owing to the wine and food festival going on. Frank arrived a bit before 6, and we were seated. The food is awesomely expensive, but also amazing. Stu and I had some bone in filets, and Frank had the "best tuna he's ever tasted." Stu grabbed the check -- I joked that the only times I go to Prime 112, it's with him, and he pays. Class act, my buddy. We laughed, and talked about careers and life, and how Frank and Paul met as freshman at GW in the 60s. Stu was amazed that Paul was richer than Frank -- Frank told the tale of an off campuse apartment Paul moved to but Frank couldn't afford. Stu married late -- at 54 has a 12 and 10 year old -- Frank has a grandson. After dinner, we walked to Mango's -- Stu's wife's uncle owns the place -- and admired the Latinas dancing salsa on the bar. Ocean Drive was packed with tourists -- and restaurants -- and Frank and I reminisced about visiting in the early 70s when it was truly the Lord's Waiting Room -- ancient Jewish retirees there, on their final stop on the planet. Afterwards we visited Frank's hotel -- now a Marriott, but in the day the Ocean Haven, where my family stayed before the roaches drove us away. Now they get $600 a night for tiny rooms.