For breakfast, we sample the various exotic fruit we’d picked up at Robert Is Here. Papaya, ugly fruit, some weird thing that looks rotten and tastes vaguely like cheap chocolate pudding, another thing that tastes like cream custard, and good ol’ fashioned blueberries.
We make one last thrift store cruise then head downtown to meet my father for lunch. He gives us a short tour of buildings in the area, including a beautiful deco building with a former bank, now empty, on the second floor. Painted ceiling beams, decorative iron work, elevator doors featuring flamingos in bas relief – the works.
We swing by the cathedral downtown, sporting a vast room with no columns to block the view, guilt touches and domed roof over the altar and such – very pretty.
But there’s no saving our souls. Miami is too much fun!
Instead, we grudgingly pack our luggage and board the flight home.
Back in Atlanta, the pollen is so thick you can see it blowing in the air. A few days later, winter’s cold breath is in my ears, a last whisper, “I’ll be back.”
“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass,” I say with a smile. “Besides, I can always run off to Miami…”
