The Benefit of Changed Plans

As I've said many times, the worst quality of life problem in living in South Florida is the traffic.  When I first moved here, in 1979, it was crime -- especially in the Cocaine Cowboy days of the 80s, and the crack fueled 90s.  Now, crime is mostly an inner city problem, with the occasional purse snatching for a woman who ventures too close to the edge of the gentrifying neighborhoods.  But the traffic is bad.

How bad?  Last Fall, Wifey and I were invited to a break the fast at my brother Paul's sister's house in East Lauderdale.  With zero accidents, it took us a full 2.5 hours to drive from our house in Pinecrest to theirs near Pinecrest School.  Traffic is so bad I rarely find something worth even venturing outside of the 305 -- exceptions are Panther games with my brother Norman, the occasional concert at the Indian reservation, or the once in awhile party thrown by my brother and sister Eric and Dana.  Other than that, I tend to stick close to home.

Yesterday my sister got a VIP, early appointment to see a UHealth specialist, courtesy of Dr. Barry.  This specialist was seeing patients in June; Barry got her in within the week.  So she called, and asked if we might meet Downtown for dinner, lest she and my brother in law get stuck in awful rush hour traffic.  We could, of course.

I got called up to Broward to go over some litigation papers with a client referred by a friend up in that bedroom community.  So I took the little girlie Caddy, which is acting up by the way -- shifting from regular auto mode to manual, and then refusing to leave first gear.  I'm taking her in this am -- hopefully they'll give me a loaner SUV like last time, which I enjoy driving more, anyway.

Anyway, as I was leaving Cooper City, named for Miami Beach developer Irv Cooper -- few residents know this -- my sister called to tell me she had seen the doc, and might be there awhile.  No problem, I said, I'd head back to the office instead of home, and await her arrival.  I simply pointed the girlie Caddy East, down the Gratigny, instead of South, down the Palmetto.  And I was going against traffic.

I arrived back to shocked partners Vince and Stu, around 5.  I NEVER come back to the office that late anymore, but I explained I was awaiting dinner with the sibs...My brother in law called, and said they wanted dinner at home -- the day had tired them out, and they were just heading back to Hypoluxo.  I hope by now, 14 hours later, they finally made it, but when I read that a plane had landed on I-75 near their route, I'm still not sure.

Well, plan B.  I sure wasn't going to get on the road at 5.  Luckily, Vince, Stu, and I got a bit of strategy done on a case, and then Vince left.  Stu and I retired to the office bar, and poured ourselves a Tito's and a Makers.  And then we chatted, and both talked about an old friend of ours, just past a nasty divorce.  We decided to call her.

It was the correct move.  For the next 45 minutes, as we sipped out adult beverages, we solved all the world's problems with our friend, a woman who for years happily took the role of little sister to our legal fraternity.  We traded tales from the heady days of the mid 90s -- they were both single, and we were in our 30s, and young, and strong.

We talked of kids -- she and Stu have 4 adolescents between them -- my kids are grown -- and she asked my secret to raising awesome kids in this complicated world -- I told her the secret was Wifey.

Anyway, it was delightful.  On the way home, she texted me -- thanking me and Stu for really being a bright spot in her week, as well as the rough patch she's been traveling through.  We made plans to meet, in person, next week, when her daughters are with their Dad...

I came home and Wifey and I went for a late dinner -- healthy-ish salads -- and she brought me up to date on matters suegra -- her continuing saga.  We came home and watched a great documentary from three years ago: "Dressing America -- the History of the Garment Center" about, essentially, my family starting with my paternal grandfather, who was a pattern maker, and my Dad, who used to push dress carts through the streets, before Japan and its aggression changed his life course, on that day that lives in Infamy...

So sometimes changed plans are for the better -- leading to encounters that are treasured.

As for the traffic, well, after I pick up my loaner, I plan to stop for breakfast at the Emporium, across from the U.  After I finish, I might have a chance at a quick glide up to Brickell.