An After Affair to Remember

So last night, after a small domestic dust up related to Wifey's re-decoration project (I asked for my way on .0003% of the new furniture, and Wifey thought that was asking too much), we made up and got ready to leave for a wedding.

Actually, it was a tense getting ready -- my Canes were at Tally, and playing well against the rival Noles. I missed the second half, but was happily told they had kicked serious butt.

We fetched three sharp dressed men, including future son in law Jonathan, and headed to the Rusty Pelican on Key Biscayne. It was a big wedding -- over 250 folks from Panama, all over Florida, and Georgia, including an imported Southern Rabbi who kept saying "Y'all." I sat behind some Bulldogs, who were very happy with their team beating the Gators (I was, too) and said "What the hell kind of rabbi says "y'all?" They laughed at my attempt at Yankee humor...

The chuppa was outside, on a deck overlooking the most spectacular view of Miami's glorious skyline. It was a bit loud -- party boats were passing below, in full base thumping glory. But the ceremony was lovely, and we then retired inside, for a party that was indeed lit, as the young ones say.

We sat a table with fellow parents of friends of the bride, Catherine. We finally met Tara's parents, who graciously thanked me for helping their girl with career decisions (she recently left the State Attorney's office for private practice). We also sat with Chloe's parents -- a lovely blonde who is engaged to a South African fellow waiting to start Oncology fellowship in Cleveland. We bonded right away -- I told him a pet peeve of mine was that people never referred to white South Africans as "African American," and yet here was this large fellow born and 20 years in Capetown before coming to America. He agreed he was indeed African. He told D2 and Jonathan they ought to consider honeymooning in his native land -- compared to South Africa,  he said, New Zealand and Australia were "shit."

Anyway, also with us were Stuart and Abbe, pretty Carly's parents, who we've known since the girls were in Middle School. In fact, Carly was at our house when she learned she was accepted to UF -- and she and D2 later became sorority sisters. Carly was living in LA, but happily returned to her native land, and now is Grove neighbors of D2 and Jonathan. Apparently she is dating a fellow who attended and now works for the U -- we need to meet and vet this guy -- I plan to do so before 2019 is out.

So there was dancing -- the Atlantans acquitting themselves nicely to the salsa and reggaeton favored by the Latins, and the rest of us Miami gringos...But they did play Earth Wind and Fire to get we Boomers moving...

So Abbe and Stuart left, around 10, to attend another function back here in Pinecrest. We said goodbye, and about 20 minutes later, they were back. What happened? They pointed out a window at the Causeway -- all red tail lights. The Causeway was totally shut down -- bad accident west of the tall bridge.

We figured it would clear in an hour or so. We figured wrong. At 1 am, most of the people had decided to hoof it back to the mainland. Wifey couldn't make the walk, on account of orthopedic issues, and so we decided she would stay back at the restaurant (they graciously said they'd stay open as long as the road was closed) and I would Uber home, to let our our dogs.

And we were off...up the tall bridge, walking past all the stalled cars. The upside was the amazing view from the bridge -- I stopped to admire it. The downside was my dress shoes were NOT appropriate for a long hike, and it was hot and humid as hell.

Finally, in about an hour, we had made the nearly 3 miles to Vizcaya. It was total gridlock. We passed the 2 wrecked cars, and I was dumbfounded as to why the road needed closure for what turned out to be 6 hours, with at least 50 City of Miami Police cars...

In front of Vizcaya, Stuart and 2 of the young-uns got into a Lyft -- the driver was headed to Key Biscayne -- we explained it wasn't going to happen. The Lyft took them to Carly's place.

We hailed 2 Ubers -- I rode with Ben, one of my favorite people -- a special needs teacher in the Bronx, and a guy who I hope also someday returns to the 305 to share his gifts as an educator with his native land. We'll see...

We mustered at D2 and Jonathan's place. Stuart pulled right up. We said our goodbyes, and Stuart drove Ben and me back to Pinecrest. It was 3 am. It was really 4 am, since the time had "fallen back."

Wifey finally got off the Key about an hour later -- they opened the road again. She had napped first on the Rusty Pelican patio, along with other stranded guests.

We'll all forever remember our post affair adventure. And most importantly, Catherine and Jacob begin their lives together. We were privileged to be there.

And, Big Man willing, in over 2 months, we'll be hosting our own big wedding. And the good news is, there are SEVERAL ways out of Miami Beach. Hopefully no hoofing will be necessary, other than on the dance floor.