South Beach is enjoying umbrella drinks at one o’clock in the afternoon. And two o’clock. And three o’clock, if you want.
It’s Ocean Drive, jam-packed with restaurants on one side and the beach on the other.
It’s pulsating beats, scantily-clad dancing girls (and boys).
It’s people working out on the sand. And making out on the sand.
It’s cruising in flashy cars—Jaguars, BMWs, Rolls Royces, Cadillacs—while valets try to get you to park in front of their restaurants because they know people will follow.
It’s cameras and cell phones everywhere, taking pictures of those cars and scantily-clad dancing girls (and boys).
It’s drummers randomly setting up on the beach, whipping up a soundtrack that somehow time your steps…and your hips.
South Beach is the sand and the sea, coral shards rushing ashore with the tide while sea gulls watch for goodies.
It’s beautiful Art Deco buildings with bars on the bottom and hotel rooms on top, with neon trim.
It’s noisy bars with spotlights and extra neon and loud music, beckoning you to come and dance.
South Beach is alive.