The local beaches have been teasing me lately to jump in, but the weather and water temperature is still a few months away for them to be in swimming conditions. Not wanting to wait any longer for summer, I decided to hop on an Amtrak down to Florida and pay a visit to Miami Beach. I made a similar trip last year around the same time and the conditions down there were nearly perfect, so I went with a sure bet that everything should be the same again. As rain and cold weather were about to embark onto New York, I picked the ideal time to skip town.
A good piece of news to start my journey was that the person sitting next to me wasn't spilling over into my seat, so I could at least look forward to a semi-decent night's sleep. She had one of those bracelets with the gay & lesbian flag colors on it and dressed manly. Listening in to her phone conversations next to me; it appears she dropped out of school a couple of years ago, and this was her first time taking an Amtrak. She was a smoker and was excited each time we reached a stop that was a designated rest stop for the smokers to get off and puff away. In fact, she yelled out in glee when we reached the Washington D.C station in which I had to tell her, "probably nobody was ever that happy to see Washington". By the time we reached the outskirts of Florida there was an interesting man who got on board. He was the classic drifter type with long hair, a mustache, a cowboy hat, and a real southern accent. It was like one of those guys you would see on that TV show "Swamp People". While in the snack car he was talking to one lady a few booths away, but it was more as if he was talking to anyone within an ear's distance. For absolutely no reason he told us his youngest of three sons is actually in prison after getting set-up by a known informant. He pronounced his dissatisfaction with the justice system of Clay County and let everyone know he's a fisherman and a hunter, who can hit anything within 300 yards. It seems like he is waiting for open season on informants to begin.
After about twenty seven hours on the train we had finally reached Miami and from there it's about a twenty-minute cab ride to the Miami Beach area. My hotel was located in the South Beach section, which was the same hotel I stayed at last year. It used to be part of the Days Inn franchise, but a couple of years ago it became the Seagull Hotel. It's probably the cheapest rate available of any of the South Beach hotels, and is positioned right on the beachfront, the only set back is the place is sort of dumpy. With the sun starting to set for the night and the fact I had been cooped up on a train for the past day or so, I made my way to the beach immediately for a quick dip before it got dark. The weather and the water itself was a tad bit chillier than I was anticipating, but was certainly good enough to swim in. After relying on Amtrak food and snacks, I could wait to get some real food. Once it got dark I headed on over to Lincoln Road and the art section there which contains walking-only streets lined up with tons of restaurants and stores. I had to walk it up and down a few times to choose which place I wanted to eat in. Then finally my eyes settled on one on a corner called Van Dyke Cafe with it's neon sign promoting live music.
Once I got inside it took my eyes a few minutes to adjust to the fact people were smoking, something that's outlawed in New York bars and restaurants. They were even selling cigarettes behind the bar, which is something I hadn't seen in quite some time. The place has two floors with a bar and restaurant downstairs, and upstairs is more of a lounge spot with a stage for the live music. I went upstairs to have a peek and it looked like there was some Spanish group playing. My main concern at that point was food and I selected the baby-back ribs with seasoned fries and a glass of white wine. While I was there this other guy at the bar was actually working backwards in his eating order. When I arrived he had an espresso, then took a shot of Jameson while smoked on a cigar. After another shot of whiskey he had the bartender set him up two plates for him and a friend who was going arrive soon. Once the friend arrived he switched to beers for the rest of the way. Unlike that guy, I ate in the proper order and after my meal, I went with a coffee (served in a glass) and a crepe loaded with diced caramelized apples. The crepe was okay, but wasn't as sweet as I wanted it to be. I asked for the check and as I was about to add the tip, I noticed the tip was already added into the bill. It's something not seen much at all in New York, so the concept was a little foreign to me. After leaving the cafe and a mediocre crepe, I needed a little more dessert. There was a gelato place a few doors down and I went with a little dixie cup of mint chip that cost six dollars.
The following morning started out with a trip to Jerry's Deli, although the name could be misleading since its actually more of a diner/restaurant. They too seemed to be a little different with the check procedure as they had a sign saying they don't separate or split checks, but at least here they didn't automatically add the gratuity. I had the corn beef hash with two sunny-side up eggs and home fries. The style in which they made the corn beef hash was different than the usual diced way I've always seen it. At Jerry's Deli they make a pancake or patty structure out of it and you have to cut the meat with a knife. I wanted a vanilla egg cream with it, but they gave me the unfortunate news they were all out of the syrup, I had to settle for an iced tea. I sat outside at one of the sidewalk tables (it can be inside or outside at Jerry's) and planned out what I wanted to do with the rest of my day. First of my schedule was going to be a bike ride. There's automated public bike rentals available, just like the ones I saw in Montreal, in which you use a credit card to rent a bike right off the streets and return it when you're done. I cruised around the South Beach area as well as a public park and the jogging trail alongside the beachfront. There weren't that many designated bike lanes around the streets, so I had to be careful as I maneuvered in and out of traffic. The weather was perfect for riding with clear blue skies and a bright sun bouncing off the palm trees.
Soon enough I started to get thirsty and was happy to run into a couple of street vendors who were selling coconuts out of a shopping cart. The prices were three dollars for a small and five dollars for a large, I went with the bigger one and handed him a twenty-dollar bill. The vendor didn't have enough change for me, so he actually had to send his partner on bike to a nearby Starbucks to get more singles. I waited (and hoped for) the partner to return as I drank my coconut by the shopping cart and about ten minutes later he did show up with the change. Soon after I brought the bike back to the rack and got set for my first full beach afternoon. The water was a little warmer than what I experienced the night before, and the sun was certainly present, but in no way scorching. Either way, I still made sure I covered as much of myself in sunscreen as possible. I positioned my blanket down in a cabana area which is really supposed to be for hotel guests from some of the more ritzier hotels nearby, but as long as you don't try to use any of the lounge chairs, its alright to be there. I took turns from swimming, sunning, to reading my book during my time there. I was beginning to get sleepy, so instead of heading back to my room, I decided to just lay on my beach blanket since the sun wasn't all that bad, or so I thought.
I periodically kept putting new sunscreen on myself, but despite that, while I was laying down all of a sudden I could actually feel my skin cooking. Once that would happen I would just apply some more sunscreen and just change positions. I looked around and saw other people sunning with no issue, so I figured it was just a case I needed more sunscreen. I would catch a few minutes of sleep here and there, but overall I would keep feeling that cooking sensation on my skin. Realizing parts of my body were turning red, I selected to head back to my room and stay in the air conditioner for a while. I didn't have any lunch that afternoon, so after a quick shower and a change of clothes I walked over to Ocean Drive which contain blocks upon blocks of outdoor lounges and restaurants. Some of the places had classic cars parked out front as a way to draw in the foot traffic as each host/hostess competed with eachother to bring in those wandering tourists looking for food. Of all the places, the Clevelander seemed the most attractive since it contained several large outside bars. It's actually also a hotel itself with a prime location across the street from the beach, but I was there for a snack and went with cheeseburger sliders and a pina colada. There was a cigarette girl walking around the bar, something also not common in New York, and reminded me of someone you would see in those old 1940's movies. On the side of the register I noticed a sign that said 18% gratuity is automatically added to the bill. It would seem the Clevelander follows suit with most of the other establishments in South Beach.
Last year when I was in the area I wanted to try a Haitian restaurant on 5th St. called Tap Tap, but wasn't able to make the time. While I was at the Clevelander I made sure to leave room in my stomach as I planned to head over to Tap Tap for dinner. The inside was colorfully decorated with the walls brightly painted with all sorts of Haitian art images. It looked as close to being in Haiti without being in Haiti, although the bartender was Cuban. I went with the stewed goat with mixed rice and a bottle of prestige. Afterwards for dessert I had a cup of passion fruit sorbet, but the place was getting so busy and the bartender had her hands full, she didn't bother charging me for it. The place seems to get alot of regulars because everyone at the bar already knew eachother. As I made my way back to the hotel I passed by a steakhouse that looked like it recently opened. I put it in my mind that tomorrow night, I'll have a nice steak. My body was quite sore from all the sun I soaked in at the beach and had no trouble falling asleep.
The next morning started out at Maxine's Bistro & Bar on Collins Ave. where I was seated outside and watched various birds fight over a piece of bread on the floor. I wanted to try something I never tried before so I optioned for the breakfast tacos that are loaded with eggs, black beans, and peppers. I also had my first cup of Cuban coffee ever, which is alot like an espresso, except much sweeter. Wanting to give my skin a break, I did the unthinkable for a place like South Beach and made my way over to a museum. I was delighted to find a James Ave., plus noticed a street and a theater named after actor/comedian Jackie Gleason. The museum I went to is called the Bass Museum, and since it didn't open till 12:00pm on Wednesdays, I had to wait twenty minutes. The entrance fee was only eight dollars, but due to renovations on the building, only the first floor exhibits were available to look at. With that in mind I pretty much breezed my way through and was done with the museum in a half hour. There was a number of interesting pieces, but their best (on the first floor at least) was their Egyptian room with several ancient artifacts and mummies. I was probably the only person in the place and the security guard was also probably bored of his mind, he kept following me to each place I went. After a while it started to get awkward which made me speed up my museum viewing. I must have had the look of someone who had 'stuffing a mummy into their pocket' on their mind.
Always a sucker for more beach, and not considering my sunburns from the day before, I made my way back over again, but this time applied the sunscreen more frequently. I told myself I wouldn't try to fall asleep again on the sand and did my best from cooking my skin two days in a row. Afterwards I stopped by Jerry's Deli for a chili dog, and got the vanilla egg cream I wasn't able to get the morning before. As I was eating I started to smell a strong pungent odor of urine, then turned to my right to see a homeless lady getting ready to ask me for change. I only had big bills on me so wasn't able to give her anything. Instead she just took a few packages of sugar from one of the other tables and walked off. As she was going away I noticed she had issues keeping her pants up and they fell down on her a few times. This lady, as do most of the other homeless people in South Beach, at least have a nice tan going for themselves. It wasn't quite dinner time yet, so I headed back on over to Ocean Drive for drinks to kill time before going to that steakhouse I spotted the night before. I didn't want to go to the Clevelander again, so I first entered this other place which was playing live music. The only problem was the bar was overcrowded and the area I was in smelled like dog poop. I checked my shoes to make sure it wasn't me, and luckily it wasn't. The smell was getting bad, so I just walked out and found a quieter place that served extra large mojitos. Once the sun went down and my dinner bell began to ring, I went over to that steakhouse. The only snafu I found out once I was seated at the bar area was that they had no steaks.
The place was so new that they were on a very limited menu; burgers, tacos, mozzarella sticks, etc. Basically it was a steakhouse without steaks. The inside was nice and extravagant, but quite empty which could help explain the newness. I was carded before ordering a glass of red wine (which I thought I would be having a steak with) and the bartender saw I was from New York. She asked me where in NY I lived and told me she's from Washington Heights (of Manhattan). She came down to Miami for school in which she's studying physics (for whatever reason). Since I couldn't get a steak, I went with the mozzarella sticks and she quickly told me it's their best food option currently, and she recalled the days she would get them at Sammie's on City Island. Once I was done with the sticks, I said goodbye and started a search for a steak which my mind had been focused on the entire day. I came upon a diner a few blocks later, and not wanting to walk around all night, I just went with it. They did have a 12oz. steak on the menu, served up with rice and beans, plus corn on the cob. The steak was rather decent, but it was certainly the steak you would find in a diner, not a steakhouse. Before getting back to the hotel to pack for going back to New York the next morning, I stopped by Jerry's one last time for a slice of red velvet cake and a coffee. I had the red velvet at Jerry's last year and I remember good things, this time around it was perhaps the flattest tasting red velvet I ever had. What made it worse was the coffee was terrible as well. Perhaps the steak from the diner killed my taste buds or something. When I went upstairs to use the bathroom I saw another homage to Jackie Gleason up on their wall. Miami Beach must really love Jackie Gleason for whatever reason.
The times I had taken the cab to and from the Amtrak station, the drivers had no issues getting there. The morning I'm set to leave I hop in a cab in which the driver doesn't know where it is. I told him its not too far from the airport, so he headed in that direction while calling the dispatch for a specific address. Once he zeroed in on where we had to go, we ran into traffic due to road work, and then another round of traffic from a drawbridge that was about to open. The driver was beginning to get impatient so he said he wanted to try something and started to take all these weird back roads alongside shipping docks and junkyards. He told me he hasn't taken those streets in the past twenty-five years, which gave me doubts I would make my train on time, but we made it eventually. My seating partner for the ride back up to New York was about my age more or less and he was glued to his iPhone. He was also about my size, so just like my travel down there, I was able to enjoy a decent enough sleep at night without fear of someone rolling onto my area. For dinner I was seated with an old gentleman, seventy-one years of age according to him, but he actually looked ten years younger than that. He had the 'American Dream' story as he was from a Dominican father and a Haitian mother. He was a cab driver in New York for many years and went to night school to get his Masters Degree. One of his daughters is a doctor and another is a Broadway actress who appeared in widely known shows such as "Hair" and "The Color Purple". He's more fluent in Spanish so he struggled with his English from time to time, but he told me so much stuff in an hour it was as if I've known him for five years already.
There was also a vibe going on in the train as it seemed alot of single people were introducing themselves to eachother and speed dating. In fact, one guy even moved his seat and spent the night with to a woman who had an empty next to her. Plus in the snack car during the daylight hours, I noticed some guys and girls were getting friendly with one another. As for the "sleeping couple", the woman was heading back to New York's Penn Station, but the guy had to get off in Baltimore. He kept asking her to get off with him, but she couldn't as she needed to get to Providence, RI. I'm not sure if that was the end of their romantic adventure or not. When we were at Washington, DC, a designated smoking break stop, I went outside to get some fresh air. In addition to the regular cigarette smokers, there were two thuggish looking characters towards the end of the station emitting smoke that smelt more like marijuana. It was also by this time the guy next to me made some new drinking buddies on board and they had been pounding down beer, wine, and vodka mini-bottles since Florida. They switched train crews at DC, and also as protocol, they closed off the snack car while at the break stop. This way no bandit passengers can sneak on board and hide in the snack car as a method to get a free ride. One Mexican fellow who looked like he never took the Amtrak before, actually unlocked the snack car door himself and received a tongue-lashing from the new conductor.
I was greeted with chilly 47-degree weather once I was back in New York, which was quite a change of pace from the high 80's I had in Miami. Since I was in the city and was bummed out I didn't get a real steak two nights ago, I planned to make a little visit to Clyde Frazier's Wine and Dine restaurant which was only a few blocks away from Penn Station/Madison Square Garden. I had been there a month before when the place was about to open its doors for business, so in addition to my steak needs, I was curious on how the place was getting along. The inside was much more crowded this time as I was barely able to find a seat at the bar. The only disappointing news was that they officially removed the duck liver from their appetizer option, which was a steal at only nine dollars. Perhaps not enough people were ordering it; amateur restaurant-goers. Instead I had to go with the calamari for starters, then ordered up a nice rib eye steak and mash potatoes. All were quite tasty and went well with a few glasses of red wine. For an extra surprise, Malibu Red was running a promotion in the place that night and had girls giving out free shots. They asked for email information, probably to send a bunch of spam from Malibu Red, but free shots were worth it. They even took a promotional picture of each person taking the shot that puts you next to an image of hip-hop star Ne-Yo, and emailed it to you. In addition to Ne-Yo, perhaps recognizing me from the ZEIsSIT World blog was also motivation to get me on board as well with the promotions. All in all it was a great way to end a great trip; wine, calamari, steak, and two free shots.
I knew things were back to normal when check didn't automatically add the gratuity....
A good piece of news to start my journey was that the person sitting next to me wasn't spilling over into my seat, so I could at least look forward to a semi-decent night's sleep. She had one of those bracelets with the gay & lesbian flag colors on it and dressed manly. Listening in to her phone conversations next to me; it appears she dropped out of school a couple of years ago, and this was her first time taking an Amtrak. She was a smoker and was excited each time we reached a stop that was a designated rest stop for the smokers to get off and puff away. In fact, she yelled out in glee when we reached the Washington D.C station in which I had to tell her, "probably nobody was ever that happy to see Washington". By the time we reached the outskirts of Florida there was an interesting man who got on board. He was the classic drifter type with long hair, a mustache, a cowboy hat, and a real southern accent. It was like one of those guys you would see on that TV show "Swamp People". While in the snack car he was talking to one lady a few booths away, but it was more as if he was talking to anyone within an ear's distance. For absolutely no reason he told us his youngest of three sons is actually in prison after getting set-up by a known informant. He pronounced his dissatisfaction with the justice system of Clay County and let everyone know he's a fisherman and a hunter, who can hit anything within 300 yards. It seems like he is waiting for open season on informants to begin.
After about twenty seven hours on the train we had finally reached Miami and from there it's about a twenty-minute cab ride to the Miami Beach area. My hotel was located in the South Beach section, which was the same hotel I stayed at last year. It used to be part of the Days Inn franchise, but a couple of years ago it became the Seagull Hotel. It's probably the cheapest rate available of any of the South Beach hotels, and is positioned right on the beachfront, the only set back is the place is sort of dumpy. With the sun starting to set for the night and the fact I had been cooped up on a train for the past day or so, I made my way to the beach immediately for a quick dip before it got dark. The weather and the water itself was a tad bit chillier than I was anticipating, but was certainly good enough to swim in. After relying on Amtrak food and snacks, I could wait to get some real food. Once it got dark I headed on over to Lincoln Road and the art section there which contains walking-only streets lined up with tons of restaurants and stores. I had to walk it up and down a few times to choose which place I wanted to eat in. Then finally my eyes settled on one on a corner called Van Dyke Cafe with it's neon sign promoting live music.
Once I got inside it took my eyes a few minutes to adjust to the fact people were smoking, something that's outlawed in New York bars and restaurants. They were even selling cigarettes behind the bar, which is something I hadn't seen in quite some time. The place has two floors with a bar and restaurant downstairs, and upstairs is more of a lounge spot with a stage for the live music. I went upstairs to have a peek and it looked like there was some Spanish group playing. My main concern at that point was food and I selected the baby-back ribs with seasoned fries and a glass of white wine. While I was there this other guy at the bar was actually working backwards in his eating order. When I arrived he had an espresso, then took a shot of Jameson while smoked on a cigar. After another shot of whiskey he had the bartender set him up two plates for him and a friend who was going arrive soon. Once the friend arrived he switched to beers for the rest of the way. Unlike that guy, I ate in the proper order and after my meal, I went with a coffee (served in a glass) and a crepe loaded with diced caramelized apples. The crepe was okay, but wasn't as sweet as I wanted it to be. I asked for the check and as I was about to add the tip, I noticed the tip was already added into the bill. It's something not seen much at all in New York, so the concept was a little foreign to me. After leaving the cafe and a mediocre crepe, I needed a little more dessert. There was a gelato place a few doors down and I went with a little dixie cup of mint chip that cost six dollars.
The following morning started out with a trip to Jerry's Deli, although the name could be misleading since its actually more of a diner/restaurant. They too seemed to be a little different with the check procedure as they had a sign saying they don't separate or split checks, but at least here they didn't automatically add the gratuity. I had the corn beef hash with two sunny-side up eggs and home fries. The style in which they made the corn beef hash was different than the usual diced way I've always seen it. At Jerry's Deli they make a pancake or patty structure out of it and you have to cut the meat with a knife. I wanted a vanilla egg cream with it, but they gave me the unfortunate news they were all out of the syrup, I had to settle for an iced tea. I sat outside at one of the sidewalk tables (it can be inside or outside at Jerry's) and planned out what I wanted to do with the rest of my day. First of my schedule was going to be a bike ride. There's automated public bike rentals available, just like the ones I saw in Montreal, in which you use a credit card to rent a bike right off the streets and return it when you're done. I cruised around the South Beach area as well as a public park and the jogging trail alongside the beachfront. There weren't that many designated bike lanes around the streets, so I had to be careful as I maneuvered in and out of traffic. The weather was perfect for riding with clear blue skies and a bright sun bouncing off the palm trees.
Soon enough I started to get thirsty and was happy to run into a couple of street vendors who were selling coconuts out of a shopping cart. The prices were three dollars for a small and five dollars for a large, I went with the bigger one and handed him a twenty-dollar bill. The vendor didn't have enough change for me, so he actually had to send his partner on bike to a nearby Starbucks to get more singles. I waited (and hoped for) the partner to return as I drank my coconut by the shopping cart and about ten minutes later he did show up with the change. Soon after I brought the bike back to the rack and got set for my first full beach afternoon. The water was a little warmer than what I experienced the night before, and the sun was certainly present, but in no way scorching. Either way, I still made sure I covered as much of myself in sunscreen as possible. I positioned my blanket down in a cabana area which is really supposed to be for hotel guests from some of the more ritzier hotels nearby, but as long as you don't try to use any of the lounge chairs, its alright to be there. I took turns from swimming, sunning, to reading my book during my time there. I was beginning to get sleepy, so instead of heading back to my room, I decided to just lay on my beach blanket since the sun wasn't all that bad, or so I thought.
I periodically kept putting new sunscreen on myself, but despite that, while I was laying down all of a sudden I could actually feel my skin cooking. Once that would happen I would just apply some more sunscreen and just change positions. I looked around and saw other people sunning with no issue, so I figured it was just a case I needed more sunscreen. I would catch a few minutes of sleep here and there, but overall I would keep feeling that cooking sensation on my skin. Realizing parts of my body were turning red, I selected to head back to my room and stay in the air conditioner for a while. I didn't have any lunch that afternoon, so after a quick shower and a change of clothes I walked over to Ocean Drive which contain blocks upon blocks of outdoor lounges and restaurants. Some of the places had classic cars parked out front as a way to draw in the foot traffic as each host/hostess competed with eachother to bring in those wandering tourists looking for food. Of all the places, the Clevelander seemed the most attractive since it contained several large outside bars. It's actually also a hotel itself with a prime location across the street from the beach, but I was there for a snack and went with cheeseburger sliders and a pina colada. There was a cigarette girl walking around the bar, something also not common in New York, and reminded me of someone you would see in those old 1940's movies. On the side of the register I noticed a sign that said 18% gratuity is automatically added to the bill. It would seem the Clevelander follows suit with most of the other establishments in South Beach.
Last year when I was in the area I wanted to try a Haitian restaurant on 5th St. called Tap Tap, but wasn't able to make the time. While I was at the Clevelander I made sure to leave room in my stomach as I planned to head over to Tap Tap for dinner. The inside was colorfully decorated with the walls brightly painted with all sorts of Haitian art images. It looked as close to being in Haiti without being in Haiti, although the bartender was Cuban. I went with the stewed goat with mixed rice and a bottle of prestige. Afterwards for dessert I had a cup of passion fruit sorbet, but the place was getting so busy and the bartender had her hands full, she didn't bother charging me for it. The place seems to get alot of regulars because everyone at the bar already knew eachother. As I made my way back to the hotel I passed by a steakhouse that looked like it recently opened. I put it in my mind that tomorrow night, I'll have a nice steak. My body was quite sore from all the sun I soaked in at the beach and had no trouble falling asleep.
The next morning started out at Maxine's Bistro & Bar on Collins Ave. where I was seated outside and watched various birds fight over a piece of bread on the floor. I wanted to try something I never tried before so I optioned for the breakfast tacos that are loaded with eggs, black beans, and peppers. I also had my first cup of Cuban coffee ever, which is alot like an espresso, except much sweeter. Wanting to give my skin a break, I did the unthinkable for a place like South Beach and made my way over to a museum. I was delighted to find a James Ave., plus noticed a street and a theater named after actor/comedian Jackie Gleason. The museum I went to is called the Bass Museum, and since it didn't open till 12:00pm on Wednesdays, I had to wait twenty minutes. The entrance fee was only eight dollars, but due to renovations on the building, only the first floor exhibits were available to look at. With that in mind I pretty much breezed my way through and was done with the museum in a half hour. There was a number of interesting pieces, but their best (on the first floor at least) was their Egyptian room with several ancient artifacts and mummies. I was probably the only person in the place and the security guard was also probably bored of his mind, he kept following me to each place I went. After a while it started to get awkward which made me speed up my museum viewing. I must have had the look of someone who had 'stuffing a mummy into their pocket' on their mind.
Always a sucker for more beach, and not considering my sunburns from the day before, I made my way back over again, but this time applied the sunscreen more frequently. I told myself I wouldn't try to fall asleep again on the sand and did my best from cooking my skin two days in a row. Afterwards I stopped by Jerry's Deli for a chili dog, and got the vanilla egg cream I wasn't able to get the morning before. As I was eating I started to smell a strong pungent odor of urine, then turned to my right to see a homeless lady getting ready to ask me for change. I only had big bills on me so wasn't able to give her anything. Instead she just took a few packages of sugar from one of the other tables and walked off. As she was going away I noticed she had issues keeping her pants up and they fell down on her a few times. This lady, as do most of the other homeless people in South Beach, at least have a nice tan going for themselves. It wasn't quite dinner time yet, so I headed back on over to Ocean Drive for drinks to kill time before going to that steakhouse I spotted the night before. I didn't want to go to the Clevelander again, so I first entered this other place which was playing live music. The only problem was the bar was overcrowded and the area I was in smelled like dog poop. I checked my shoes to make sure it wasn't me, and luckily it wasn't. The smell was getting bad, so I just walked out and found a quieter place that served extra large mojitos. Once the sun went down and my dinner bell began to ring, I went over to that steakhouse. The only snafu I found out once I was seated at the bar area was that they had no steaks.
The place was so new that they were on a very limited menu; burgers, tacos, mozzarella sticks, etc. Basically it was a steakhouse without steaks. The inside was nice and extravagant, but quite empty which could help explain the newness. I was carded before ordering a glass of red wine (which I thought I would be having a steak with) and the bartender saw I was from New York. She asked me where in NY I lived and told me she's from Washington Heights (of Manhattan). She came down to Miami for school in which she's studying physics (for whatever reason). Since I couldn't get a steak, I went with the mozzarella sticks and she quickly told me it's their best food option currently, and she recalled the days she would get them at Sammie's on City Island. Once I was done with the sticks, I said goodbye and started a search for a steak which my mind had been focused on the entire day. I came upon a diner a few blocks later, and not wanting to walk around all night, I just went with it. They did have a 12oz. steak on the menu, served up with rice and beans, plus corn on the cob. The steak was rather decent, but it was certainly the steak you would find in a diner, not a steakhouse. Before getting back to the hotel to pack for going back to New York the next morning, I stopped by Jerry's one last time for a slice of red velvet cake and a coffee. I had the red velvet at Jerry's last year and I remember good things, this time around it was perhaps the flattest tasting red velvet I ever had. What made it worse was the coffee was terrible as well. Perhaps the steak from the diner killed my taste buds or something. When I went upstairs to use the bathroom I saw another homage to Jackie Gleason up on their wall. Miami Beach must really love Jackie Gleason for whatever reason.
The times I had taken the cab to and from the Amtrak station, the drivers had no issues getting there. The morning I'm set to leave I hop in a cab in which the driver doesn't know where it is. I told him its not too far from the airport, so he headed in that direction while calling the dispatch for a specific address. Once he zeroed in on where we had to go, we ran into traffic due to road work, and then another round of traffic from a drawbridge that was about to open. The driver was beginning to get impatient so he said he wanted to try something and started to take all these weird back roads alongside shipping docks and junkyards. He told me he hasn't taken those streets in the past twenty-five years, which gave me doubts I would make my train on time, but we made it eventually. My seating partner for the ride back up to New York was about my age more or less and he was glued to his iPhone. He was also about my size, so just like my travel down there, I was able to enjoy a decent enough sleep at night without fear of someone rolling onto my area. For dinner I was seated with an old gentleman, seventy-one years of age according to him, but he actually looked ten years younger than that. He had the 'American Dream' story as he was from a Dominican father and a Haitian mother. He was a cab driver in New York for many years and went to night school to get his Masters Degree. One of his daughters is a doctor and another is a Broadway actress who appeared in widely known shows such as "Hair" and "The Color Purple". He's more fluent in Spanish so he struggled with his English from time to time, but he told me so much stuff in an hour it was as if I've known him for five years already.
There was also a vibe going on in the train as it seemed alot of single people were introducing themselves to eachother and speed dating. In fact, one guy even moved his seat and spent the night with to a woman who had an empty next to her. Plus in the snack car during the daylight hours, I noticed some guys and girls were getting friendly with one another. As for the "sleeping couple", the woman was heading back to New York's Penn Station, but the guy had to get off in Baltimore. He kept asking her to get off with him, but she couldn't as she needed to get to Providence, RI. I'm not sure if that was the end of their romantic adventure or not. When we were at Washington, DC, a designated smoking break stop, I went outside to get some fresh air. In addition to the regular cigarette smokers, there were two thuggish looking characters towards the end of the station emitting smoke that smelt more like marijuana. It was also by this time the guy next to me made some new drinking buddies on board and they had been pounding down beer, wine, and vodka mini-bottles since Florida. They switched train crews at DC, and also as protocol, they closed off the snack car while at the break stop. This way no bandit passengers can sneak on board and hide in the snack car as a method to get a free ride. One Mexican fellow who looked like he never took the Amtrak before, actually unlocked the snack car door himself and received a tongue-lashing from the new conductor.
I was greeted with chilly 47-degree weather once I was back in New York, which was quite a change of pace from the high 80's I had in Miami. Since I was in the city and was bummed out I didn't get a real steak two nights ago, I planned to make a little visit to Clyde Frazier's Wine and Dine restaurant which was only a few blocks away from Penn Station/Madison Square Garden. I had been there a month before when the place was about to open its doors for business, so in addition to my steak needs, I was curious on how the place was getting along. The inside was much more crowded this time as I was barely able to find a seat at the bar. The only disappointing news was that they officially removed the duck liver from their appetizer option, which was a steal at only nine dollars. Perhaps not enough people were ordering it; amateur restaurant-goers. Instead I had to go with the calamari for starters, then ordered up a nice rib eye steak and mash potatoes. All were quite tasty and went well with a few glasses of red wine. For an extra surprise, Malibu Red was running a promotion in the place that night and had girls giving out free shots. They asked for email information, probably to send a bunch of spam from Malibu Red, but free shots were worth it. They even took a promotional picture of each person taking the shot that puts you next to an image of hip-hop star Ne-Yo, and emailed it to you. In addition to Ne-Yo, perhaps recognizing me from the ZEIsSIT World blog was also motivation to get me on board as well with the promotions. All in all it was a great way to end a great trip; wine, calamari, steak, and two free shots.
I knew things were back to normal when check didn't automatically add the gratuity....
