So, I'm on my way back from a whirlwind trip to Mia to search for an apartment. I found something I love, but nothing is written in stone, yet. Keep those fingers crossed. I’m not entirely sure just what I will do if this doesn’t work out, but I guess there is no point in worrying about that on the plane ride home. Anyway, the place I’m hoping for is this late ‘40s/early ‘50s Art Deco house, of which I would have the entire second floor.
I think the Golden Girls might have lived here:
With hardwood floors, throughout:
And an if-it-isn’t-modern-at-least-it-is-kinda-cute kitchen:
And the most Florida bathroom ever to have been crafted by man:
Even if this doesn’t work out just the way I’d like it to in terms of not being homeless, I still learned a lot of valuable lessons and information on this trip. That is not to say that if this apartment deal doesn’t go through that someone won’t be getting punched in the teeth. They absolutely will. It just means that it certainly wasn’t a waste of my time, which I have so little of these days.
Today, I thought I’d share some of the important things I learned over the course of this 3.5 day trip.
1. Miss Zoe Buttons will be sooouper snug.
This one is kind of a twofer (you’re welcome).
On the plane, I transported my house plants in the pet travel carrier to be certain that Zoe will actually fit when we move in 27 days. Survey says: She fits! But she may not sits... Man oh man, we’re gonna have to have kibble cut-backs in the Schmerica household, because it is gonna be tight. Then again, she will be on a sleepy dose of doggie Xanax, which will hopefully keep her nice and puppy-puddle like for the majority of our little plane ride experiment.
I also learned that Miami girls say “sooouper” (pronounced just how it looks). Like a lot. A sooouper lot. Now, if you know me well, you know that I speak my own, fairly idiosyncratic brand of the English language, and I say “super” a lot. For example, “Man, I’m like super, crazy tired.” Or “Oh, yeah, then I’ll see you at 7. Sounds super.” But this is a new form of ridiculous, even for me. To me it sounded like if a Midwesterner and a Cuban had a baby who had been raised by someone from the Bronx.
2. I still don’t speak Spanish.
The next thing I learned even before I got to Miami is that I still do NOT speak Spanish. There was a woman sitting behind me, and she kept trying to communicate with one of the air-waitresses, and she could not. Not even a little. They assumed she was trying to say what she wanted to drink. I said, “Beber means to drink, obviously agua is water, and jugo is juice. I imagine that Coke is just Coke.” No one listened to me. Instead, the air-waitresses just kept talking louder and louder, explaining that they already told her that they couldn’t understand her, as if that somehow meant anything to that lady.
“HEY LADY, I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE SAYING!”—Oh, now I get it!
Anyway, we finally found someone who really actually spoke Spanish, and turns out this lady was Cuban, had lost her passport, and was worried she’d be deported when we got to Mia, because she had no documentation. Whoa! Shit just got real! And I still didn’t speak Spanish.
3. Worse than Africa hot? The air is thick.
I also learned is that I continue to hate heat and humidity. Maybe hate is too weak a word. Despise? Detest? I didn’t know that one’s boob could get stuck to her upper abdomen. Turns out, that is totally a thing that happens sometimes, but peeps were still walking around in PANTS.
4. Untz, untz, untz.
I learned more about club music than I ever needed to know. Oh, what’s that? You’re going to dinner?—club music! You’re by the pool?—club music! You’re going to the pharmacy?—club music! It’s 4 o’clock in the morning and even though you only got home a short while ago, you are trying to sleep?—club music!
5. Women can wear whatever they want and call it a bathing suit.
I learned that if I'm ever in a pinch, I'll be just fine. Oh no, Honey, you left your suit at home? No Problem! You got on underwear, don’t ya? They are lacy? No Problem! They are totally see- through, like, everyone can totally see your vag right there grinning at them in the face? No Problem!
I swear to Jesus that Matt and I saw a girl wearing a pair lace hipsters similar to ones that I own. The difference is that I bought mine at Victoria’s Secret, and they were marketed as PANTIES, you know, to be worn under your clothes. Like UNDERwear.
6. The abject of my (to your) offections.
I learned a little something about myself, too. I still don't like hugs. Are you my mom? No? My BFF who I haven't seen in months? No? Oh well, then did someone just run over your puppy with a tank? No? Then, get the fuck off of me!
If you know me at all, you know I am NOT a hugger. I’m more like a freezer. My whole body tenses. It is a visceral response, beyond my conscious control. It definitely doesn’t mean I don’t like you, it is just what happens, like a reflex.
I was hugged by no fewer than 8 people this week. Now remember, the trick here is I know TWO people in Mia, and I didn’t even see one of them the entire time, so you can feel free to do the math there.
7. I laugh more often now, I cry more often, I am more me…
Sappy ending!
I relearned an important lesson that I'd learned before, and I now have a permanent maker as a reminder of this very important lesson on my left arm. Have you ever met someone you were just instantly comfortable with? I have, but it has been pretty flippin’ rare. I’d say there are probably about 5 or so folks who I’ve come across in my lifetime for whom this was the case, and regardless of when I came into contact with these people, we’re still close even when we only get to talk about once per month or six. Almost like we already shared some kind of inside joke or understanding that others won’t ever get, and it never gets old.
Well, that might have happened this week.
I ended up hanging out with that helpful OKC dude, and I had a super-great time. He kept right up with me, which many of you folks know can be hard to do on many levels. I just felt at ease with him; like I somehow knew him from before (and if you are thinking weird past lives bullshit, you can stop reading right now because that isn’t even close to what I’m talking about). He introduced me to some of his friends, and they were great, too. Awesome. Maybe now I know more than TWO people in Miami?
But one thing that really hit me from talking to him (and the point of this portion of the post) was a reiteration of something I learned the hardest way on my own a few years ago. I want to surround myself with people who make me more me.
As many of you know (though some of you may not), I lost myself a few years ago. No, no, this is not a Radiohead reference. This is true life. It was as if everything that I’d loved about who I was or what I valued vanished or was watered down somehow. It was the most frightening experience I’ve ever had. It is hard to say exactly what lead to this, though I have a few ideas that I will not share here, as I don’t want to incriminate anyone or imply blame for that matter. I surely played a large part in it, too. But the important thing is that after that nightmare finally ended, I learned an important lesson. It is important to surround yourself not only with people you love and admire, but people who make you more you. It doesn’t even need to be a “better version of you”, it just has to be the you that *you* love the most.
I’m going to be leaving a lot of you soon, and I’m going to miss you all so much, especially those of you who have helped me to be more me over the past few years. I love you all so BIG. You know who you are, and I wouldn’t be where or who I am now without you.
OK, I’m going to wrap it up now because I’m writing this on the plane and crying into my keyboard and people are starting to stare. I know, I know, what else is new, Erica?
But I’ll leave you with this much, Ayn Rand may have been a real See You Next Tuesday in a lot of ways, but she did say this, “To say I love you, one must first be able to say the “I”.”
And I do, *I* love you all.
