Barbidoesmiami

How to Stay Sane in the City of No Shame

miami vice meets baywatch

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update of this week’s don johnson moments:

1. saturday disco at W hotel – well that was one sure way to feel really old , in holland we say – I felt like Miep from Meppel, which roughly translates into feeling like  one’s granny. i like discos. at least i remember liking them, and i think I could like them again.( maybe there’s a market for age appropriate discos for us studio 54 generation, that open early, allow good old fashioned coke and overt displays of  everything while dancing wildly with oneself) problem at W- the wall-disco is that they card  people for being too old, like over 30, and I’m sure it was only my husband’s WSJ card that got us past the five humongous bouncers. once inside I wished we had been bounced all the way back to milford. at least in milford, when I watch people ride the bull at the tom quick inn, I have a sense of snide control over the local culture. not at the W wall. ah-ah. no way honey.  i mean what’s with those pole dancers? (without poles but still), girls with spray tans in like negligable panties, something even more miniscule over implanted boobs, and wearing boots that are made for walking (all over me) . cry to gloria steinum et all:  gloria what the fuck? is this women’s self empowerment? there were  four of them. one in the east, one in the west, one in the north, one in the south where I was sitting, gyrating her naked bottom in my face. drooling playboys stood and watched staring right  into her crotch. their young dates/girlfriends stood clutching their ugly handbags (what has happened to handbag design? – thats another blog) looking bored, neglected and too intimidated to dance themselves.

2. sunday visit to vizcaya:

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3. miami baywatch beach.

please dont think husband and i go to the beach every day. we’re much too northern guilty calvinist for that. but we  had a picnic yesterday. after a morning’s work (trust me). i call anouk when a baywatch type (male) runs past clutching his pathetically small orange floatie (how can he possibly save people on that?), looking intently at a totally flat ocean. I say, hang on a minute anouk. i look. i too could be a lifeguard. the way i looked so well. i scanned and scanned and saw nothing. no drowning babes. no screaming girls. no sudden heart attacks at eight feet deep, no shark fins lurking for attack. it was quiet and peaceful. sorry i said to anouk. nothing going on. next thing i’m almost run off my towel by a speeding atv. whathefuck? i say to anouk. i just almost got run over. next  a spray of sand hits me in the mouth. what the… another atv. manned by a  buff brown girl, looking intently at the ocean. i’m still looking too. anouk is talking. i feel like a bad friend. first i move here and then i’m all  distracted. so i pretend to concentrate on anouk. but i’m not really (sorry anouk). a policeboat speeds into the area. next three jetskis join. then i hear the fire engines coming down collins road, screeching into the parking lot. by now a hundred people are standing in the water, husband one of them. peering. we’re all peering like crazy, hoping to be the first to spot IT. but what is IT? what are we looking for? if its a drowning person he/she’d be drowned by now. if it’s a shark attack one of those people standing in the water would know by now. it has to be a body. a dead body. i think it must be a body i say to anouk who is in her 25th street NYC apartment. i have to go i say . i’ll call back later. i feel so left out, standing in the sand.  trying to relate on the phone to anouk who could so not relate. fine she says. be like that, she thinks. liberated from the phone i too wade into the water. whats going on? i say to husband. he ALWAYS knows what’s going on.( how does he do it?). some woman in the akoya (a rather tall building on the beach) saw a body floating right here, while she was on her treadmill, (he points at nearby buoy), so two policemen went up to doublecheck and they saw something too. cool i say (i know, how very rubbernecky of me). so we watch while the homeland security hormone (or is it a gene?) kicks in and  see it perform all along  up and down the beach. atv’s everywhere almost running over small children and dogs (never mind its an emergency), boats and jetskis spraying macho fountains between two ocean markers, sexy guys with their (pathetic little orange) floaties lurching into the non existent surf. what time is it? i ask. its 2.40. ohshit. the twins. pick-up at 3 under the tree in the school yard. oh shit, and i’m all wet. and ohshit i wanna know. husband says there is no body. if there was a body he would’ve seen it. really? she’s delusional, he says. like schizo.  he points at a pretty young woman in back leggings and tank. i can tell, he says. just look at her. she’s like glenn close. really?i say.  i look at her, all pretty and blond and glenn closey. then i look at the 50, 60 men running around like crazy. hmm. there is POWER in that one phonecall she made. see them run. 911- i see a BODY- floating outside my window, and see how they come running. its now 2.50. i should be at the school in 5 minutes. i have to leave i say. i’m staying husband says, even though he KNOWS its a false alarm. i go. of course i go. i’m three minutes late. the twins are pissed. but wait till  you hear what happened, i say. lets go back to the beach to pick up daddy. will we see that body? they ask. when we get back all the police cars have gone. the beach is quiet. no atv’s or jetskis or orange floaties. its like i made it up. where is the body ?the girls say. both excited and concerned. there never was one. daddy says. we don’t know what she saw but it wasn’t a body. maybe it was a dolphin that was hurt, leila says. yes and maybe he swam away when he saw all those boats, kiki says. i think thats exactly what happened i say.

i hope that dolphin is ok, leila says.

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Author: barbidoesmiami

Barbi is a stupid model, fashion designer, writer about women and beauty, repurposeur of ocean plastic garbage into jewelry, mover from milford to miami, mother of iona kiki and leila, lover of alastair

One thought on “miami vice meets baywatch

  1. LOve love love the photos..

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