A Wedding and a People

So we checked into the Betsy Saturday, and little by little, so did our visiting guests. The place was buzzing. The owner, Jonathan, walked in with his CEOs -- Canine Executive Officers. The Ds are dog crazy, and fawned over the two retrievers. Jonathan reminded us that, with the coming Super Bowl, we were truly standing at the center of the universe this week. We could feel it.

Our room was ready, and, as expected, it was nice but small. South Beach hotels were built for economy -- the working man's paradise -- and though they've added luxury, the rooms are what they were. But that was ok -- we were here for the big, fat, Venezuelan wedding.

We retired to the B Bar, a wonderful space that was once a store room and Meyer Lansky's telephone betting center. The place was surrounded by posters of great bands and singers. I met Carlos, the manager, and right away dug him -- huge Dominican man from the Bronx. He was assisted by Jorge, a newly arrived Cuban, and Milos, a Serb. It was classic Miami.  The guests arrived. Old friends greeted new. We drank. Heavily. I paid a bar tab of an amount equal to 10% of my first year's lawyer salary. It was worth every penny. The bar was to be open until 7, but the drinks were still flowing. I extended it until 7:30, and then folks trickled away, for dinner plans.

Wifey, Paul, Patricia, Eric, Dana, Vince and I ended up deciding to eat at the hotel's restaurant, LT Steak, a casually elegant place. It was. We sat outside, and watched the parade of South Beach go past. I had a top 10 NY Strip. We shared their famous popovers, and barbecued corn. It was wonderful. I called for the check -- knowing it would be close to $1000.  The waiter said the "young man had taken care of it." The young man was Vince -- Stuart's former young partner, leaving for a new job next week. I was floored. He said it was the least he could do for Paul and me -- we had mentored and treated him so well over the past 6 years. The guy is all class -- there was no business reason to do what he did. He said he hoped someday to be, professionally, where Paul and I am. What a guy!

Next we ran into Edna, and Elizabeth, and another dear friend of Wifey's. The friend is in her early 70s, and had never tried pot -- until Saturday night! She was very happily stoned, and we loaded her into an Uber for a ride home. South Beach...

Sunday the wedding activity began, beehive-like. Wifey flitted about with makeup and clothes. I put on my tux, which I realized might be one of the worst creations of civilized society -- buttons are just fine -- why do I have to struggle to use studs instead? I reported to D2 and Jonathan's room, and was told to wait on the terrace, and then turn around. D2 emerged in her wedding dress. She happens to be a great looking young woman. She looked enchanting. The photographer, an Asian woman, had a small tear in her eye from my expression. Some stuff can't be staged.

More photos followed, in the hotel's library. and then we went downstairs to another cool room, surrounded by photos of jazz singers, for the ketuba -- the signing of the wedding contract. Rabbi Yossi arrived, and I poured him a tequila. He hilariously led us in the ancient rituals of the reading and signing. Jonathan agreed and signed it, as did D2.

Then Wifey and Lizbeth, Jonathan's Mom, came together and grabbed a plate, which they smashed. It symbolized the last fracture the family should ever have. It made me wish my Mom and Wifey's had done that ritual before our wedding...

Finally it was time for the big event. The guests were gathered on a roof top deck. The sun was setting over the beautiful Miami skyline. The ocean glowed to our East. Norman noted to me later that it was the most gorgeous evening in Miami in the last 5 years. He was correct.

Rabbi Yossi led the service, and it was highly unusual. Typically you don't mention the Shoah at a wedding celebration, but the day fell on the 75th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. D2 and Jonathan both descend from Survivors. Yossi said, elegantly, that our gathering was the ultimate defeat of the Nazi evil -- indeed, the light in the dark world they sought for mankind. People were choked up.

I kept gazing at the Atlantic, and thinking of my late parents. They would have beamed. I like to think they were.

We had cocktails and apps at poolside, and then went down to a magical scene -- a courtyard with lined up tables, and a dance floor. D2 and I had our first dance. We typically do it to "Sunrise, Sunset," but Jonathan, always amiable, suggested maybe that was a downer song. We switched to Tom Petty's "Learning to Fly," which I used to dance to with the Ds when they were very young -- in front of our CD player in our post Andrew reconstructed house. Jonathan was correct, as he usually is.

And then the real party started. And started. It was so lively. The hora went on and on -- crazily. Jonathan's friends hoisted my 250lbs high into the air. I greeted the Big Man.  The dancing never stopped -- Latin Jews know how to do it right.

We ate, and drank, and laughed. I gave a short speech, noting that Pitbull advises one to "not stop the party," and I tried to adhere to that sage advice.

At 11, the DJ, Joey's former UM roommate, now independently rich from selling an app, and DJing for fun, moved into a coffee house in the hotel, and the "after party" commenced. Wifey danced more. I ate the most delicious chicken fingers ever, along with arepas and mashed yucca. My niece Val kept up with tequila drinks, as I switched to coffee. Again -- South Beach.

Around 12:30 am, we said goodnight. The party was to go until 3 am, and I apologized to Liz, one of the planners. She said no way -- it would end a little after 1 -- she could tell. She was correct.

Wifey and I walked around to show Elizabeth the Orb, and famous architectural connection of the old Betsy Ross Hotel to the Carlton behind it. We then ended up on the front porch, overlooking Ocean Drive. It was quiet -- early Monday morning. The following Sunday would be packed, but we enjoyed the quiet, and the colorful lighted trees by the sand. It was nice to decompress. Elizabeth said what many did -- it was truly the best wedding ever. I have to agree.

Monday am, I held court at an outside table, drinking coffee and greeting the departing friends and family. My Florida sister and brother in law came buy -- with plans for Starbucks which changed for a hotel bagel and coffee. My California sister joined us. This weekend was the first time in 7 years my parents' 3 children were together. I think my parents would have approved. The Fates alone know if we will all be together again.

My nephew Henry joined us -- his wife Val was sleeping in. Eric and Dana came. Barry came. Loni and Amanda happened by, as did Elizabeth. D1 and Joey came by. It was exquisite hearing the different tales of the night -- who said what -- who danced with whom.

Finally, at 1, we moved a bit -- to the main restaurant -- my sister Sue, nephew Henry, Edna and Marc, Wifey and me. Val came later. We had our farewell lunch -- I had a delicious wagyu pastrami sandwich. And then we said our goodbyes .

Jonathan and D2 were recovering on the rooftop pool deck. They had wisely decided to stay an extra night. They were still smiling. D2 thanked us for giving us the best weekend of her life. Mission accomplished.

So the Nazis tried to eliminate my people from the face of the Earth. Instead, 3/4 of a century later, we flourish. I got to live out a fantasy -- living like a true rock star for a weekend.

We were blessed. Truly.