I’ll See You in Miami
I’m happy to be in Miami right now, however unfamiliar the sun-loving city looks and feels today. Miami, like the rest of Florida (and so much of the country), is in trouble right now. And as is the case with any loved one, when they’re in trouble you want to be near them. Even if it puts you at risk.
Our beaches are still open, however with a sense of precarious contingency. Masks are mandatory everywhere, even on the sand, and fines for not wearing one are $100. Social distancing is also regulated and, while outdoor dining and imbibing are still on the menu, the 8 p.m. - 6 a.m. curfew in South Beach has changed the very nature of going out for dinner and a cocktail.
Most sources of entertainment that are key to our social lives is closed, i.e. movie theaters, clubs, and bars (without food licenses). Museums that feed our cultural needs are also on hiatus. And as it is everywhere, we wonder which of our cherished bars, restaurants, galleries and cafes will re-emerge from this crisis and which ones will be relegated to the “pre-pandemic” compartment of our memories. It is one of those rare moments when one is keen that we are all living through a new era, one whose present darkness must naturally open up to light, as all things do.
The vibe in the city is an overall sense of suspension mixed with urgency. The most committed act we can do to bring things back to normal, we are told, is to stay home and stay away from people. And, of course, wear a mask if we must go anywhere. Basically, if you want to do something about this crisis, just don’t do anything. It’s a strange message and a tough act to follow through for a city that takes pride on enjoying time spent with others. But we want our city and our lives back, so Miamians are following the rules. Health is wealth, after all, so Miamians are adjusting their priorities.
Similar to other cities across America, life here feels different right now. Whether or not these changes are for the time being or the city is changed forever, only the future will tell. The streets are less crowded with families, sightseers, and revelers. The venues are still serving food and drink but with less flair and playing their music with a little less volume. The perpetual buzz emanated by Miami’s storied reputation for creativity has quieted. The city, particularly South Beach, is far from solemn or funereal. But there’s a cautious, serious note that the city has struck that may characterize the rest of everyday life in most places, but has always been deliriously absent in Miami’s downtown and South Beach.
But what hasn’t changed is that certain energy you feel when you walk out of the house and you smell the salt of the ocean, you see the palms of the trees winding and cascading in the wind, and even masked, Miami’s culturally and ethnically diverse, and ever-stylish residents still carry themselves with a self-aware beauty, confidence, and swagger. Unlike the understated cool of New Yorkers or the breezy aloofness of Los Angelenos, Miamians announce themselves when they walk by or enter a room. And no mask can ever cover that up.
When things lighten up, the city looks forward to hosting tourists from all over the world, as we remain and will always be a global destination. Whether it’s the Winter Music Conference, Art Basel, or just to get away from the everyday grind, people will always flock to Miami. So for the time being, if you’re looking for me, this is where I’ll be. I’ll see you in Miami.
— Christina Lucas