Christmas came late
Tuesday, 01.02., Miami

We are here. Made the move across the deep blue sea, and landed in Miami exactly in time, 24 hours later than planned, in this airport that comes half in English, and half in Spanish, and that has buses that come to pick you up when you rented a car.

A night time arrival it was for us, after a sunset flight from Atlanta airport, where we forgot time in transit while walking through an African exhibition and almost miss our connecting flight. "We are still early," I said when we arrived at the gate, and saw that there was no one waiting. But no, we were exactly on time.

As exactly on time as at the rent car place, where we handed the reservation form to the clerk behind the desk. While he typed codes and words into the computer, I watched a convertible drive by outside, wishing they weren't that expensive to rent.

Maybe my thoughts were forming signs in the air, for even though I hadn't said a word, the guy suddenly looked up from his monitor and said casually: "If you are interested, there is a special offer at the moment to upgrade your car to a convertible."
"And how much would that be?" Ronnie asked
"10 Dollars per day," he said. "A new car."
Ronnie looked at me.
"Where if not here?" I said.
And so we got it. A Chrysler Seabring Touring.White and convertible and new. So new that it took several crosssings until Ronnie figured out what this odd little counter in front was telling.. 4.. 5.. 6.. it said. Miles it was.

Like kids in wonderland we felt as the counter reached 23, and opened the downtown skyline in front of us, columns of sparkling light in the night. One bridge further, we were in South Beach. Three roads on, we were in Collins Avenue. And seven blocks down - there was our hotel, the entrance framed by palm trees sparkling in the night, a lit Christmas tree waiting in the lobby.

More wonderland the next morning: a breakfast in an American Deli, where everything looked like in a movie. Only that it was real. As real as the palm leaves that moved in the warm wind, as real as the turquoise blue of the Atlantic ocean, as real as the white sand in our shoes.

Picture Page: Skies

next: The Key to the Keys

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