Once again today, we woke to the soft tones of the alarm on my phone. Yesterday was the same. It’s just that we jammed so much into this three night stay that we had to be at certain places by certain times. Today, unfortunately, that place is the airport. But why the alarm clock yesterday? Banana Joe.
Actually the tour company was called Banana Joe’s Tours. The driver and font of Miami knowledge was named Häagen. He picked us up in front of our hotel, introduced himself, then proceeded to say everything in English, then repeat it in German. Turns out there were lots of Germans in Miami at the same time as us. Cas had a blast with it. He took German in high school, which has been a few years, now, and even knowing in advance what he was about to say (Häagen said everything in English first, German second), Cas said it was like watching YouTube on double speed. Häagen talked about the architecture on South Beach, nautical and tropical. Some of the buildings were made to look like cruise ships from the era- decks and ports and such. Others were made to mimic elements of nature, especially tropical nature. After he said the thing about the cruise ships, I could see it everywhere. Cool pro tip, Häagen!
His drive took us through unpleasant Miami morning traffic to the Everglades. We were deposited and given wristbands that entitled us to an airboat tour of the nearby portion of the glades. I now know that the Everglades are not a swamp, as you may mistakenly suspect. They are a really wide, really slow-moving river coming off of Lake Okeechobee and headed out to the ocean. We saw some rare birds on our journey, but no alligators. It was a little too early, so the sun hadn’t heated up the world to gator-friendly temperatures just yet. We did spot a four-foot-tall Great Blue Heron and a couple of Ospreys. That was pretty cool. And after the bird spotting and the gator-missing, we were treated to a live alligator show. The guy who walked in the pit of alligators was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, but no shoes. He walked into the water and nudged these prehistoric beasts around with his feet. When he culled one gator form the nearly dozen he had in the water to use as a demonstration animals, he dragged her by the tail. It was surreal. I’ve known since forever that you run like heck if you ever see one of these things, and here’s this whackadodle, walking around telling us their names. Hector was in the corner, and somehow, he couldn’t locate the gator he called McLovin. I was thinking that sounded distressing. Who loses a giant almost-dinosaur in a crowd of tourists? Where is McLovin? We left there 30 minutes later still not knowing. But we got out alive, and that’s what’s important, here.
The man doing the demonstration dragged a lady-alligator to the center of a sandy pit. Sorry, her name escapes me- I can’t get past the nagging mystery of McLovin. He hopped on her back and demonstrated the ways that the Seminoles used to capture these beasts for food, disabling their main defense mechanism, their crushing, powerful jaws. The guy was completely nuts. As we watched him grip the beast and tell corny jokes, I kept taking a mental inventory of his fingers and toes. They all appeared intact. When the gator show ended, we hopped back in Häagen‘s oversized Banana Joe van and headed back to our hotel. From there, we changed clothes and went about the business of finding some lunch. We had a tiny snack of fried alligator at the tourist shop in the Everglades, but it was time for some serious seafood. Nothing like eating a piece of fish while gazing out at the water from whence that fish came. We did a fisherman’s platter with a piece of fish, some shrimp, a few scallops and a crab cake. We started with crab legs, though. Hey, go big or go home. But seriously, we shared. We’re not gluttons. At least not total gluttons. When we wrapped up the amazing seafood meal, Cas asked if I wanted to walk on the beach while we gazed longingly into each other’s eyes. I said, “Duh.” Romantic, no?
But that’s all you get for now. I will save the sunset cruise for later, as now is breakfast time, and we’re nearly ready to walk out and go find my sought after cup of Cuban coffee. I understand it’s about the color and consistency of used motor oil, but when in Rome, right?
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