Upon entering the train heading to Fort Lauderdale, the conductor seated me
beside an older fellow who had apparently been enjoying quite a few beers on his
ride (didn't the train just start only a station away in downtown D.C.?) and he was
not an enjoyable person to be sitting next to in his condition. So I bothered the
conductor to re-seat me. He brought me to the next car and sat me next to Rob,
a handsome college student with short Chestnut colored hair from upper state
New York. He was headed to Fort Lauderdale as well to get away from Winter
and to visit his cousin for spring break. I spoke with him a bit about my trip
around the world and my upcoming bike tour around Jamaica. I also mentioned
my plans to stay in Miami for a few days at a youth hostel until I bought a
mountain bike for my 4-month long tour of Jamaica.
Miami was the first place I planned to stay in a hostel. I showed Rob my hostel
book that listed the location of hostels in the Miami area. Upon noticing one
located in Fort Lauderdale he politely informed me it would be safer to stay in
Fort Lauderdale than Miami. Fort Lauderdale was where he was planning to stay
with his cousin. So, heeding his advice, I decided I would stay in Fort Lauderdale
if I could work it out. We also agreed to get together to go to the beach one day
this weekend or to go canoing in the everglades. He didn’t have his cousin's
phone number or address handy but her last name was the same as his. Since
his last name was peculiarly unique he said I could easily find his cousin's
number in the phone book (in the old days before the internet & cell phones we
had these huge white telephone books with most everyone's name in it who had
a phone line).
Shortly after noon on Friday he de-trained in Fort Lauderdale and I continued on
to Miami with my checked bags. I would have gladly de-trained in Fort
Lauderdale with Rob but I put into effect my first rule of travel I had learned from
my previous mistake in Nova Scotia: always depart the train at the same
station at which your checked bags are scheduled to de-train.
In Miami I retrieved my luggage and I found out it cost only two dollars to return
by commuter train service back to Fort Lauderdale. So, I called the Fort
Lauderdale youth hostel to make certain they would have a bed available. I only
reached a recording however, telling me I needed to be at the hostel by 5 p.m. to
stand in line to get a bed for the night.
Since it was only 2 p.m. I decided I had plenty of time to get back to Fort
Lauderdale by 5 p.m. I separated the contents of my luggage, taking to Fort
Lauderdale only the items I would need for the few days I planned to stay. I left
the unnecessary items in my suitcase in a train locker, changed into shorts and a
T-shirt, and headed to Fort Lauderdale.
Once in Fort Lauderdale I hopped on a city bus which delivered me within a few
blocks of the youth hostel which was only a couple of blocks from the beach. I
arrived early at the hostel, so I left my travel bag and sleeping bag in a fellow’s
room and I headed off to the beach.
At the beach I whipped out my video camera and began to tape the scenery.
Even though the sky looked threatening it was warm enough for some college
students to lay out on the beach clothed in their summer swim suits catching the
spring sun between the black rain clouds.
Although on my travels across Canada and along the Eastern Seaboard I never
ran into a blizzard or snowstorm, it was very cold up there. Having lived the past
10 years of my life in Southern California, I was accustomed to warm weather. So
I was elated to be back in a warm weather climate wearing my favorite attire:
shorts and a T-shirt. I too laid out on the beach for a while and caught some rays
of sun between the black rain clouds.
After sun bathing, I headed for something to eat. I found a beach side pizzeria,
the Pizza Shack, and stopped in for a slice of pizza to enjoy on the walk back to
the hostel.
Back at the hostel I checked in and I was assigned a lower bunk in a room with
three sets of bunk beds. Next, I asked for directions to the nearest bike shop.
Apparently the nearest shop was only a few blocks from the hostel. I also found
out the directions to a nightclub, which had advertised free food on a banner
pulled behind an airplane puttering above the beach. Luckily, the bike shop was
on the way to the bus line I needed to take to the nightclub. I decided I would find
the bike shop tonight so I could easily locate it tomorrow morning when I would
comparison shop for bikes. So at about 6 p.m. I headed out to the night club and
bike shop.
With the help of some locals I found the bike shop, International Bikes, right on
the corners of Sunrise Boulevard and Federal Highway. What surprised me was
that on a Friday night after six o’clock the shop was still open. I walked into the
shop and a young Latino fellow with a rich accent quickly helped me out. I
explained to him that I was looking to buy a mountain bike for a tour of Jamaica
for a few months. I said that I was just pricing bikes at the moment and I would be
checking out a few other places for their prices. He kindly led me into the shop
and showed me a few different bike models and he gave me their prices. He
asked if I would need any accessories. My response was “Yes.”
He then told me that if I bought the bike from his shop he would offer me a ten
percent discount on the accessories. I thought to myself, "That could be very
helpful."
As I was leaving, he gave me a shop business card and he wrote his name
“Carlos” on the back of the card. I headed out on Federal Highway a block or so
to catch the bus to the nightclub.
At the bus stop I encountered a young man in his early twenties. As we got on
the bus, he began to tell me about a movie he had just seen and he seemed
exited by and needed to talk. It was titled “The Doors”, the name of a popular
rock and roll band from the sixties and the seventies (some will say the eighties
as well). He informed me he had seen “The Doors” live in concert many times
before.
I thought to myself, “I don’t think so," because I knew 'The Doors' broke up in the
early seventies when Jim Morrison, the lead vocalist, died.
He went on to explain that when he was a kid his parents took him to many
concerts and that is why he was familiar with 'The Doors'. He quickly quipped, “I
even was at Woodstock!”
I looked at him - thinking, “That’s pretty amazing. He must have been a baby...”
just as he offers me the little fact that he was the baby Janis Joplin held and sang
to sleep at Woodstock.
“That’s pretty neat “, I replied. “How did that happen?”
He told me his family was close friends of the Joplin family and so they were at
Woodstock to support Janis. We talked a bit more before he came to his stop,
said good-bye, and left. I continued my bus trip to the nightclub.
I arrived at the nightclub three quarters of an hour early for the opening at eight o’
clock. So I waited outside on the curb. When the doors opened I got into the line
of clubbers waiting to enter and I saw they were paying to get in the door. I
asked a young lady in front of me how much it costs to get in. She told me it was
eight dollars. I thought to myself, "So much for free food. This was not going to
help my budget out." So I left the line and caught the bus back to the hostel.
I made my way back to the hostel by about 9:30 p.m. and entered my room only
to find someone else's belongings on my bed. I went to the office and asked the
hostel manager about the situation. He checked the reservation book and said
that I was the person assigned to that bed. He figured the person from the
previous night who had checked out still thought it was his bed. The manager
said "just move his belongings to another bed and put your belongings on your
bed. This way the guy will know your bed is no longer his bed."
I felt bad about moving the guys belongings but listening to the manager I went
ahead and moved them anyway. I rested a bit, then headed back out at about 10
p.m. for a beer and something to eat that would cost less than the "eight dollars
free food" deal. As I walked along the beach looking for a bar, I passed the Pizza
Shack, the pizzeria where I had eaten earlier. I decided to stop in and order a
whole pizza this time as I enjoyed the slice earlier. I ordered the pizza to be
ready 5 minutes before their closing time and headed to a nearby bar called "The
Parrot Club". The place was really hummin’ with spring break college students
celebrating their achievements (or achievements to come). While enjoying my
beer a fellow out of the blue asked me to rate him on the scale of one to ten,
where ten was best looking I assume. I really didn’t wish to, so he rated himself.
He said, "Well, I think I am an eight."
I quickly retorted with a smile, “No, I think you are a ten”.
He got a big smile and then turned to his girlfriend who was beside us listening to
the conversation and he then asked her to rate him. She said, "I think you're an
eleven."
Well, she one up me on that one. But we continued to talk, with me telling him
about my travel plans and him telling me about Fort Lauderdale. He gave me a
couple of dollars and his address so I could send him a few post cards from some
of the strange places I would be visiting on my trip around the world.
After finishing my one large schooner of beer, I headed back to the Pizza Shack.
My pizza was ready at 11 p.m. as ordered. I sat and ate it as I talked to the
waitress. I have eaten a lot of pizza in my time and this pizza tasted delicious.
But I may have been slightly slanted only because the sauce tasted very much
like my own. The cook was cleaning up for the night and as he passed me I told
him how much I loved his pizza. I even told him it tasted like mine. He then
proceeded to list his ingredients and compared them to mine. He asked me if I
owned a pizza shop somewhere too but I told him I just make pizza at home. After
eating over half of my pizza I headed back to the hostel for the night with the
remaining pizza packed to go.
Upon arrival at the hostel I headed to my room and low and behold, there was
someone asleep in my bed! Now it's true that ever since birth I have been
endowed with golden locks but I really wasn't expecting this. At least there wasn't
a bear in MY bed like poor Goldilocks. Instead, my sleeping bag and belongings
were moved to the bed on which I had moved someone else’s belongings earlier
in the evening. Deciding this was not a big deal I cleared my stuff off of the bed
and hopped in hoping that no one else would come in later in the night wanting
this bed. I went to sleep listening to the music of Bob Marley on my Walkman CD
player. Bob's playful melodies brought to a close a very long but enjoyable day.
| 1.6-1 Washington, D.C. to Fort Lauderdale, Florida |
World Turned Upside Down
