Staycation, All I Ever Wanted...

Our friends Sheryl and Mark returned to town, to enjoy a free stay at the Mayfair Hotel the manager provided after some untoward events during their New Year's Eve visit. They arrived late Thursday, and spent the night here.

Yesterday am, they took us for breakfast at the Muffin Tin, at Sheryl's suggestion. She's a woman, of course. I laughed and told her I had been there with Norman a few weeks before, and we noted the more feminine and less Hebraic nature of the place, compared with our usual deli. Still, the food was fine, and then we headed home to sit on our porch and talk about kids and lives.

Sheryl asked to do something unusual. I realized that Wifey had smoked the last of our crack cocaine in the period following Hurricane Wilma, and so instead suggested going to Alabama Jack's. I had finished reading about that place in "Mile Marker Zero," and had a hankering for some conch chowder and fritters, so off we went.

The drive down Card Sound Road is terrific --you see the essence of South Florida topography, and smell the bay and ocean. We arrived, and got a table right on the water. Sheryl and Mark loved it, and Sheryl wants to come back for the Country music they have Saturdays and Sundays. Like all Jewish girls who grew up in Boston, she's a big Country fan.

Afterwards, Sheryl asked how far Ocean Reef Club was. Not far, I told her, but it was private, and they wouldn't let us in. I'm such a wuss as I age. No, Sheryl said -- drive on, Dave, I used to be a member ('92-'96) and they'll let us in.

We called D2 and sang happy birthday to her voicemail. She turned 20 yesterday. We felt old, but thrilled when she called back to tell her the plans for parties and dinners with her friends.

I pulled up to the guard gate, and the fellow manning it was a little scary. By his appearance and accent, I immediately assessed retired Chicago cop. He asked who we were there to see. Sheryl fast talked from the back seat about being a former member, and wanting to take us in for a tour. The guy said, essentially, no one gets in to see the great and powerful Wizard of Oz! Still, he had me pull over, and he Sheryl come out to the gate to call Membership.

A few minutes later, Sheryl returned, with a guest pass. Sure enough, they still had her in the computer, and invited us in to see the membership folks. What chutzpah she has. We were all impressed.

We drove in, and were essentially now naughty kids let into a place we didn't belong. We drove to the end of the island, and gawked at the mansions on the ocean. A few denizens, all looking like the retired CEOs who people the island, either walked by the road or drove their golf carts around. Wifey, who had never been there, was way impressed.

We then went to the main pool area, and found a table by the water. A singer was performing at the pool, and he took Sheryl's requests. When he learned that Sheryl and Mark were from Boston, he played the great Dave Loggins' song. We sang along, as the early rich white guys drank at the Tiki Bar. It was a lovely moment.

We then walked to the membership office, where the friendly young lady had packets for us. They were running a special for out of towners (those not living in Miami Dade or Monroe) --only a $12k initiation fee, plus about $10K per year for fees. For locals, the initiation is $40k.

For this amount, you are allowed to swim there in the ocean and pool, and stay in the hotel, where rates this time of year, for members only, are $500 per night.

The membership manager came out, a nice fellow and former minor league baseball player and announcer, and chatted with us. He was a big Patriots fan, and high fived Sheryl for her team's coming Super Bowl appearance.

We left, and I knew I'd never join. The whole fun of the place was sneaking in. I like sitting poolside at Villa Wifey, and I don't have to pay extra for that...

It was now 5 pm, and we all agreed we needed strawberry milkshakes. I sped back up Card Sound Road, to US 1, and made it to Knauss Berry Farm as they were closing. No shakes -- they were cleaning the machine, but there WERE dinner rolls! The Menonites were less than charming -- bucolic doesn't necessarily equate to nice, and we left.

Chutzpah Sheryl to the rescue: she called Burr's Farm, which was also closing, and told them she was from Boston, and had driven all day for their shakes, and could they stay open for us. I raced through the Redlands, nearly hitting a racoon or two, and arrived at Burr's. Sure enough, they were closing down, but had 2 newly drawn shakes set aside. We slurped as we drove home.

Sheryl and Mark checked out of Villa Wifey, and headed back to the Mayfair. Wifey and I changed and headed to Shula's 347, for dinner with Diane and her boyfriend Ken. They were at the bar, canoodling, I think is the word, celebrating their one month anniversary together. Wifey noted they were like teenagers!

I had an ENORMOUS martini, and the famous French Onion burger. Diane had one, too, and loved it. And then Wifey, in a display of total abandon and wild behavior, ordered a burger, too. And then 3 shots of tequila, which she downed like a biker chick! Ok, no tequile, but the burger was still impressive to me.

Wifey drove home, as the one martini took its pleasant toll on me, and I fell into bed. Who needs to leave town? There's so much going on here, South of Flagler Street...

D2 was in her room at the sorority house, laughing with friends. D1 was in her apartment, cooking for her boyfriend, in a wanton display of rebeliousness from her mother's ways...

It was a lovely vacation day, without leaving town.