Miami 2012
I rented an apartment for a few months on South Beach, it was nice to be on the top floor overlooking the bay, and a much needed break from my studio in Bali where I’d been for the past year.
I found a sublet for 6 months and broke out my old Harley Sportster from my sister’s garage, dusted it off, and had transportation. It wasn’t a sleek chrome horse; more like a clunky old jeep, gutsy not too loud but reliable transportation.
After a few days reconnecting with family and friends I set to work on an upcoming exhibition at a gallery in Winwood. The building I was living in had a lot of young people living there and the atmosphere of a college dorm. The elevator often smelled like weed, and the neighbours were always smiling. Miami with no helmet laws is a very motorcycle friendly town, Rite across the street from the building there was even special parking for motorcycles.
One night around 3 AM a siren started to blare from speakers that I never noticed in my apartment and in the hallways. An ear piercing Woop! Woop! seemed to be coming from every corner. What the hell could it be? From the hallway the loud slamming of doors could be heard, I poked my head out of the apartment door and asked someone who was rushing by what was going on, “Fire” he shouted and ran off down the hallway to the stairs.
I got on a pair of jeans, a tea shirt, leather jacket grabbed my passport, tickets, cell phone, bank books, credit cards and cash, stuffed them into a small day pack, and locked the door.
By now the hallway was empty and the deafening siren was still blaring, it was surrealistic; an ear shattering wooop wooop ! was coming out from every direction in the deserted hallway..
Standing alone by the elevator was a girl, sobbing, she was wearing just an oversized tea shirt, and was obviously frightened. She was banging frantically on the elevator button, and getting no response. In her hand she had only her keys with a tiny stuffed teddy bear on the keychain. I told her that the elevators were stopped in the event of a fire and we needed to run down the 24 flights of stairs to get out of there.
She said still sobbing over the blaring fire alarm, “I’m afraid to go down that stairwell alone.” I told her not to worry, I lived right there and pointed to my apartment door, “We can go together.” I put out my hand, she took it and squeezed tightly.
By now the stairwell was also empty and the sirens still blared loudly from everywhere echoing throughout the stairwell. She was barefoot, but we ran down flight after flight taking the steps 3 at a time with 911 in my mind. When we reached the lobby out of breath, there were firemen and cops rushing around, and fire trucks out front, an a tangle of fire hoses all around; the whole scene was chaotic. There must have been a dozen police cars, cherry tops flashing blue and red, the bright lights blinded us.
Out front the police were herding the building’s occupants across the street behind a police barricade. There must have been at least one hundred people, most of them trying not to panic, obviously just shaken and out of their sleep, some in pajamas and bathrobes.
It was raining, she grabbed on to my arm, and I held her a little closer, we stood at the back of the crowd, An older woman in a bathrobe and soggy bunny slippers with rollers in her hair, , spoke loudly with a Yiddish accent to a cop “Fiya? Are you kiddin? I live here 5 years!”
Nobody seemed to know where the fire was, and we were getting pushed around in the surging crowd. The rain had a great effect on my companion’s tea shirt; she was small thin and well proportioned, I guessed maybe South American, or Cuban American. She had short black hair, dripping in thick shiny locks. She caught me staring, I offered my jacket, and she draped it over her shoulders. We moved to the back of the crowd, and stood in the lite rain for about 15 minutes, she gripped my arm with two hands and shivered.
The Harley was parked there and pointed it out, “Hey that’s my bike, let’s go have a cup of coffee till things cool down”. She agreed. I knew a dive bar in the neighbourhood that was open late, and we rode over there, and was soaked by the time we sat in a booth. The place was empty except for a couple of guys playing pool.
I ordered a double scotch, she said, “Ill have the same.” She excused herself and went to the ladies room. I pictured her standing naked drying her tea shirt under a hand dryer, and found myself actually hoping the building had burnt down and we would never have to go back to our separate apartments.
When she came back I got my first good look at her, she was beautiful, her short black hair now dry was flying in every direction, and as she approached the booth I could see right through that tea shirt still a little damp. She slid into the booth next to me, not across the table… I took that as a good sign.
She saw me staring into space and must have thought I was worried and joked in a yiddish accent, “Feyeya? Are you kiddin? I live here 5 yeerz” she mocked.
A sickening sweet country song played, the TVs were showing ski jumping probably the winter Olympics somewhere, I could have lived that moment forever.
She switched into a fake Texan accent, “Hey cowboy, ya saved mah life, willya at least tell me ya name?”. I told her my nickname; Pablo, she giggled,, “Pablo?, really? “ and stuck out her hand, “I’m Paola” we laughed and bumped shoulders. Pablo and Paola, OK.
I tried making small talk, she said she was studying to be a chiropractor. I told her my back was starting to really hurt. She giggled, ” That’s what they all say.”
We raised our glasses, and to my surprise she knocked back the double and didn’t even blink. I tried making small talk and she asked me about the string of coral beads around my neck, I asked, her if she ever been to Bali, “No”, she said, “but I heard of it, its like Hawaii, right? I’m not interested in travelling, I love it everywhere, except maybe Cancun, and if you love it everywhere who needs to travel anywhere else?”
In that nonchalant tossed off remark she managed to negate the last 20 years of my globe trotting…
“I once went to Cancun for a few days,” she went on, ”it sucked. Why do I have to go all the way someplace to see overweight people in loud shirts drinking technicolor cocktails with little paper umbrellas? Anyway we have enough paper umbrellas here in Miami.
I don’t like traveling. I have a cat. The cat lives in my apartment and has never left it, his name is Gato. Gato is completely happy in his world and doesn’t need to go anywhere else. I’m a lot like Gato.” She toyed with a tiny gold crucifix on a gold chain that dangled around her neck. I started to tell her that one day Gato would discover the real world and never comeback, but decided against it.
I was starting to like this girl.
The bartender shouted “last call”, the music stopped, but the pool balls still rattled. I ordered coffee and another round of whiskey.
We sat there in silence, the coffee tasted like cardboard a week old, the plastic milk cups didn’t help. We could still hear horns and sirens in the distance, and I was wondering if we had a home to even go back to. When we stepped outside; it had stopped raining, I went back in the bar and grabbed a couple of napkins to wipe the seat down for her.
When I came back she was already balanced on top of the seat like she owned it.
We slowly made our way down the early morning empty wet shiny black streets in the direction of the building, neither of us really wanting to go back. The scotch must have been starting to do its job; she squeezed me and whispered loudly in my ear, “So, how fast can this thing really go?” I laughed, “You want to see?” “I thought you’d never ask!” she shouted. I swung around and headed for Alton Road and the Tuttle bridge, the streets were deserted; I figured every cop in the neighborhood was probably at the fire.
We stopped at a gas station and I asked her if she wanted anything, thinking some clothes, “No, Im OK”. She started trying on sunglasses, put on a dark pair of cheap imitation Ray Bans, I said “those are not you”, she said “I know, Im trying on sunglasses for you.” It was a good idea to keep the wind and rain out of my eyes, but it was still dark and I needed the ones least tinted and settled for a cheap pair of yellow aviators; they’d help.
I bought her the largest jersey they had, it said “Hurricanes” on it, which seemed appropriate for what we had in mind. The sleeves came down to her knees. She asked the storekeeper in Spanish if she could use a pair of scissors, and cut the arms off with a razor he gave her. With the ribbing around the sweatshirt wrists on the top slid one over each of her bare thighs, I snuck a peek and it confirmed that she was in fact naked under her tea shirt. I threw the leather jacket over it, She looked like either a ragtag street waif, or a Vivian Westwood creation. At any rate that would do.
We rounded the entrance loop to the bridge and stopped, there was not a car in sight in either direction. I took off my belt and tied it around the leather jacket she was wearing to keep it from flapping around in the wind, took off my backpack and tightened it over my chest, “Hang on” I said , “and keep your head down”
“Aye Aye Captin”, she bowed her head turned her eyes up at the sky and kissed the crucifix around her neck.
“So really, what’s the fastest you’ve ever gone on this thing?” she shouted in my ear. “Around 110”, I lied, “but that was without a passenger.” “Ha!” She giggled with mischief.
The Julia Tuttle Causeway bridge is a six-lane section of I95, which connects downtown Miami, Florida to South Beach, via Biscayne Bay. It rises to a height of 68 ft in its centre, 2.5 miles across Biscayne Bay. Its actually two separate bridges one heading from west to east, one east to west, the eastern one is 982 ft shorter, which means with the wind at your back you are traveling faster across a shorter distance and have less room to slow down, the rider doesn’t have a lot of space to travel flat out to take the exit ramp at a sane speed.
The wet tarmac glistened rising up on the empty bridge invitingly before us; daring us. The skyline sparkled over the bay; the clouds were breaking up and stars were starting to shine through.
I proceeded to slowly wind out all five gears, in no time lampposts were blurring by and the seams in between the concrete slabs the bridge is made of, clacked and thunked faster and faster as we gained speed, like a chugging of an old locomotive, the road chugged by faster slurring together building to a roaring crescendo of tire to tarmac.
I hugged the gas tank resting on my backpack and she squeezed tighter with a strength that surprised me. The wind in our faces blew tears into my eyes making it hard to read the speedometer, I could feel her heaving and breathing heavily, when we reached the crest of the bridge and started down the other side she let out a scream that gave me the chills, in no time at all I could see the exit coming to Biscayne blvd on our right and slowed down to get off and turn back around.
At the light, still a little rattled from the speed, she sat up bit my ear and a little out of breath said, with a challenge “Ha ! Is that all you’ve got?”
At this point I was in love with this girl.
“Ok, the wind was in our face it should be a lot quicker on the way back. Hang on tight now we’re heading into hyperspace.” She bear hugged me, slipped her arms between the backpack and my tee shirt, and ran her nails down my chest.
This time with the wind at our backs we were well over 90 when we hit the crest of the bridge; it felt like we might have been airborne for a second, she let out a bloodcurdling scream of ecstasy and dug her nails into my chest. Not another car in sight heading east I could just make out the first sliver of a pink and purple Miami sunrise on the horizon.
In seconds we were slowing down for the Alton road exit ramp, I pulled over to catch my breath, and stopped along the side of the road. I smiled, “fast enough for you?” ..
“Yaeeeeow! at the top of the bridge I think we left the ground ! “ I had an orgasm ! did you feel it?!! She giggled and shouted in a loud whisper in my ear. “Hyperspace!” she shrieked, “You are my captain Kirk” she shouted breathlessly, “That was really hyperspace!” I hugged her, “and you are my princess Leyla.”
I was always completely conscious of the fact that she was only wearing a tee shirt; the jersey tucked under her, and my leather jacket, I slipped my hand under her and felt the wet seat, brought it to my nose sniffed loudly and smiled.
“That’s what they all say. “ I said laughing, repeating her words of earlier.
She got off the bike and plopped down on her back in the wet grass and broke into a fit of little yelps and giggles.” I leaned on the parked bike, we both sat there for a few minutes, just laughing, flushed with whiskey and adrenaline. I fished around my pack and came up with a cigarette, she said, “You smoke? … EEEwww !”
I laughed,” Baby, we just hit 120 and went into intergalactic overdrive — hyperspace — with no helmet and a naked stranger on my back, at 4am after 4 shots of a good single malt, while our house is probably burning down. Do I look like a guy who’s worried about dying by a cigarette?” She thought about that for a second and said still lying on her back, “Yeah, better give me one too.”
At that moment a car slowed by and stopped on the ramp beside us. He rolled down his window and looked us over. A cop. A young guy, probably Cuban as a lot of the Miami cops seem to be, in an unmarked police car.
He motioned to the girl, “Is she alright?” he asked. Hearing that she sat up and said in her most polite voice, “Thank you for your concern, but actually I’m not alright, I’m supergreat alright ! I have never felt this happy in my whole entire life!” the cop smiled, “I saw a broken pair of sunglasses on the bridge, You know anything about them?, he asked.
“Well, ah, they must have blown off, I didn’t think it would be safe to stop on the bridge for them.” He picked up his radar gun, “I clocked you at 112 at the top of the bridge.” She screamed, “112 !! WWWooo!! We broke your record !! That was nothing”, she went on not realizing this guy was a cop, “You should have seen us on the way back down the other side of the hill! we must of been doon….” cutting herself off mid sentence.
“Going nowhere fast, huh?” The cop asked seriously.
I told him where we lived and about the fire and we just decided to go for a little ride. Hoping he didn’t smell the booze on my breath. He never left his car or asked for my license.
“What’s your name ?” he asked, I figured I better tell him my real name, the one on my license, I said in a low voice, “Anthony Paul Gentile,” She exploded with a loud Pffffft! An-tony!? Really?? HAHAHA!, the cop asked her her name, she replied meekly, “Karmen sir, Karmen, Benedicta, Juan Maria, Ramírez, your honor,” I tried not to snicker.
He said, “OK, I’m letting you go”, but motioning to her, “Get her home she’s gonna catch pneumonia. “ our eyes met smiling. I figured he was on his way home after a long night and didn’t want to be bothered. Nice guy! I thanked him.
“Anthony! Really? Hahaha!” I said “Benedicta??!! Is that even a name?” She confessed, “My friends call me Kay”. “Rite, Kay, I see, K for Karmen, rite? or like Que Pasa or maybe Que Sera?” I joked. She quietly said “No, it’s really more like Que lastima”..
We kept well below the speed limit of 30 just easing down the glistening deserted streets on the way back. She confided, “I have never broken the law in my life, I never even got a parking ticket. This little crucifix; it was my mother’s grandmother’s. I never take it off and Jesus protects me.
I said, “Never?” she said,” Never. .. Ok, well sometimes, if I think maybe I might do something He might not like to see, I have a little box I put Him in. You, you probably break all the laws all the time, rite?”
“No, there are laws of God and nature and then there are the laws of man. Sometimes breaking a law of man can be good for the soul and doesn’t hurt anyone. Like crossing a bridge at the speed of light in the middle of the night with a beautiful stranger, and the road is completely deserted and your house might be burning down.
I think that cop, when he saw you and you told him you have never been as happy in your life, he knew it. You touched him. The other laws, of nature and God, I’m still learning, and try not to ever break them.”
“I think we all crossed a big bridge tonight”
She pondered that, “You know sometimes you say some nice stuff, I like the way your mind works, where do you learn that stuff, Bali?” “No, I probably picked “that stuff” up growing up in New York City.” She bit me lightly on the back of my neck and whispered, “Thanks”
We slid into the very same parking spot we came out of less than 90 minutes ago. She got off the bike and said, “I don’t want to go back to my little compartment.” I looked at the little backpack, and nodded towards the bike, ”Hey, we could be in Mexico day after tomorrow.” She nervously twisted her crucifix around its little gold chain and quickly turned and crossed the deserted street.
When we got back to the building, there was no sign of a fire at all. The building was quiet and there was no indication of the pandemonium of about an hour and a half ago. The doorman looked us over while he explained that someone cooking had caught the curtains, set off a smoke alarm, and the fire was out before the engines even got there!
We stood silently on opposite sides of the elevator, just looking at each other. Finally, she broke the silence, “Wow! Did that even really happen? I guess you want your jacket back.” she said, slipped it off and handed it to me. I said, “Look, that’s my apartment and pointed to my door, “ “I know. Im just down the hall.” I walked her to her door and tried to kiss her, she turned her cheek away and said, “Thanks for the ride, see ya again sometime Captain” and closed her door.
I headed back thinking, “How the fuck did she slip away??!… Fuck!” I returned to my apartment tossed my jacket on the couch in frustration, tossed the bag across the room, poured a shot of scotch and set down to roll a j.
I lit up and drew deeply,, there was a gentle knock on the door; I flew across the room to open it, thought a second, and waited a minute until she knocked again.
She had changed into a loose fitting dress, it was opened a few buttons and showed her smooth neck, there was a thin white line where the sun never shined, and her gold chain usually covered. Emphasizing the fact that it was not around her neck!
She had a bottle of body lotion in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “I was worried about your back problem” she smiled.
Later We filled up the bathtub, she ran back to her apartment for bath oils and salts, we finished the wine in the bathtub, slept most of the day. The thought that I would soon have to be traveling again saddened me. I was beginning “to love it, everywhere.”