Living the Bubble Life in Miami

The “great” American signer Jimmy Buffett wrote and sang of Margaritaville, a place where oblivion was the default position. Why Mr. Buffett is often referred to as “great” defeats me, but as he has a recording contract and I do not, I’d better leave this question alone. Indeed, I'll consider his oblivion.

Some nights ago, I was sitting at Sundowners, a bar/restaurant in Key Largo in Florida. I was the designated driver, hence no margaritas for me, but the setting was perfect, the food ambrosia, and even the plain iced water was nirvana. I watched, mesmerized, as the sun dipped into the ocean. It was good to know that, at my venerable age, I could still see a distance of 93 million miles.

My wife and I had been visiting our eldest daughter, who works for the Miami City Ballet. She was raised to think independently, but she has taken the idea too far: we did not tell her to have such thoughts 5,000 miles away from us. Nor did we expect that she would embrace a “bubble existence” in this city.

Still, her decision meant we could attend a performance at the interestingly named and fabulously comfortable Arsht Centre. I have witnessed my fair share of ballets over the years but would make no claim to being a connoisseur. However, my wife is. In her view, MCB can rival any ballet company in the world.

What astonished me was the audience. Maybe they weren’t as sophisticated as those attending Covent Garden or La Scala. Maybe there was spontaneous applause after an extraordinary solo or duet, when the piece had not ended. But the Miami audience dressed to kill. Men in jackets and ties, women in beautiful cocktail gowns, children dressed so smartly. I felt a little embarrassed as I was in slacks and a (very smart) T shirt. In my 30 years of visits to Miam, the dress code has always been casual or ‘down’. What has happened here?

Our visit coincided with Spring Week, which now seems to last a month. Coming back to the hotel on our first night, four young ladies sat in the Lounge, each one more beautiful than the other. I asked my wife whether I might have a chance of getting a date with one of them if I was forty years younger, fifty pounds lighter, and sixty times as funny. It took her no time to reply, “Not so much.”

At this time, Miami Beach is more replete with pulchritude than normal. Pretty girls and good-looking boys abound. The attraction is sunshine, the beach, and each other but, perhaps, subliminally, they seek the bubble existence after the rigours of college.

So there has been little conversation about the economy or Obama’s European trip. However, the decision by the Iowa state legislature to lift the ban on same-sex marriage attracted much attention. Not to be outdone in publicity, the Vermont Governor vetoed a bill to legalize same-sex marriage, setting the stage for an override vote in the legislature. Thus, these two states will be the centre of attraction for Miami Beach’s substantial gay community, gearing up for the Gay Pride Parade.

CNN, too, seem to have caught the bubble mood. After the Obamas’ tour of Europe, I expected some close analysis, but last night, a deadly serious Wolf Blitzer introduced a section on Michelle Obama. Was this related to her duties as First Lady, or FLOTUS, as they like to call her here? Not really. The piece was devoted to Mrs Obama’s wardrobe and the way she covered her upper arms.

Before I am accused of mockery or cynicism, I happen to think that a society that is willing to take on awkward topics like same sex marriage, abortion and even creationism has to be applauded. As Aaron Sorkin wrote, “America is an experiment in advanced citizenship.” The political debates in UK seem sterile and passive by comparison. Nevertheless, I am relieved the talking heads on Newsnight are not getting involved in Mrs. Obama's wardrobe.

Miami Beach may lack realism but it certainly has life. I regret that my daughter has chosen to live here, rather than stay in UK. For the sake of an extra hour or so in an aircraft, I might have preferred that she had moved to Portland or San Francisco. However, when one is young and the world still resembles an oyster, when total reality has yet to hit, when annual sunshine --- give or take a hurricane or two --- is the staple diet, maybe the bubble that is Miami Beach is not so bad.