I really have become that crusty old guy -- the one who seldom sees the need to leave my own County, Miami Dade. Well while Wifey and I were in France with Kenny and Joelle, Paul and Eric conspired to plan a dinner for several of us, that would include wine, since it was presumed I would return from France liking wine more. I didn't.
Anyway, originally we were going to meet in Broward, as 3 of the 5 couples live in Miami Dade, Barry and Donna in Broward, and only Eric and Dana in Palm Beach. Somehow Eric contrived to get us all up to his neck of the woods, and got reservations at a trendy Atlantic Avenue place called Dada.
Kenny's brother Larry, a Mainline cardiologist, happened to be in town visiting their ALF living parents, and he was invited, too. Joelle saw that the Boca Raton Museum of Art, located as part of a luxe shopping center called Mizner Park, was having an exhibit on Hollywood back drops -- exactly Wifey's wheelhouse. Maybe we could meet there at 4, and then head up the 20 more minutes to Delray for dinner. We could.
I have always understood D.H. Lawrence's idea of spirit of place. Locales speak to us, uniquely, and we either feel we belong, or we don't. For him, he belonged to New Mexico later in his life, though he was from much colder and wetter UK. Something about Taos pulled him in.
Well, since I started visiting Boca in 1979, when my parents and I moved to Delray, it has always had the opposite effect on me. Mizner Park is a perfectly lovely place -- upscale shopping, bars, restaurants. But as Wifey walked around, and I went into Subculture Coffee, I had such negative vibes.
A patron in front of me, about my age and with a cute granddaughter, was arguing with the barista about the size of "expresso" she ordered. She was loud, and had a classic Five Towns accent, and was annoyed at the young man helping her because "For what ya charge for KAWFEE heah, at least get my orduh right!"
Maybe my dislike in the demographic dates back to my childhood as a "blue collar Jew" from Levittown, as my friend Joel calls me, and just not digging the arriviste members of my tribe. It's absurd -- I'm a rich guy who lives in an upscale area -- and raised my Ds very privileged. But at least many of the spoiled people here speak in Spanish, and I don't have to understand their words of privilege.
Wifey and I met at the museum, and a tad late Kenny and Joelle joined us. Wifey dug the exhibit -- it was ok, but after a visit to the Lumiere Museum in Lyon, it was underwhelming. There was a "Strawberry Festival" going on outside, and though it was near closing, they wouldn't let us in, even to walk around. It was just as well -- I was happy to beat a quick retreat from the bad vibing Mizner Park.
We convened at Dada off Atlantic -- 11 of us. I had my usual vodka martinis, though I had brought a nice bottle of Pinot Noir I had bought 10 years before in Napa. Paul and Eric also bought bottles -- I think Joelle, the wine expert, enjoyed them. We feasted and laughed, and caught up, and the bill was a good 30% cheaper than a trendy Miami restaurant would have been.
Also, it was nice for a change to NOT be the oldest patrons at a restaurant, which happens any time we go out in a trendy Miami area. I totally get why aging Miami people prefer Palm Beach County -- especially appearance caring women. It can't be easy for a woman aging to have to go out surrounded by 20 and 30 somethings all the time.
We actually had neighbors, Anne and Mark, and Anne, formerly an "it girl" when she was young, demanded they move to Raleigh after a lunch in the Grove where she looked like her fellow patrons' grandmother. Wifey is much more self confident -- and enjoys actually BEING a grandma of our two wonderful grandsons.
We sent the Ds a photo, and D1 remarked that she and her husband were going to sleep while we were still out and about -- and we had a 1.5 hour drive home ahead of us.
We made it fine, with debriefing about our friends and their situations keeping our conversation going . I exaggeratedly called out the towns and cities as we passed them. "We're in Pompano Beach now. We're passing Miami Lakes now." It was a lovely, late drive.
I think next time we all meet, it will be in the about to reopen Anthony's Runway 84 -- great red sauce place near FLL. That's some eatin' worth crossing ONE county border for.
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