In Tandem

Doublemint Twins

Just back from an extremely restorative week in Miami with one of my all-time favourite companions, my daughter Sophie.

Sophie is in her third year at King’s College in Halifax and as a result, we don’t get much girl time. I was honoured when she was keen to spend her reading week with me, even though my invitation to spend a few days together at the Standard, Miami, probably clinched the deal.

The Standard Miami is a special place for us–Soph’s last year in high school, the two of us had a brilliant time there, hanging out together, covering ourselves with colored mud, playing iguana in the warm marble of the hammam, and watching the pretty people at the lovely warm pool (a sort of conceptual beach) on the blue water of Biscayne Bay.

This time, it was different: the Standard, which is brilliant re-do of the old Lido motel, a Miami fat farm from the 50s, was beginning to show a few cracks (Andre Balasz might want to take a closer look at the maintenance and upkeep of the building, and the service….well, let’s just say everyone there is way too cool to actually bring you anything), Florida was in the grip of a cool front (or as our Haitian cabbie called it, “a little chilly-chilly”) and we two were at a different stage in our Mom/daughter relationship.

 But it was still sheer bliss. We read and laughed, and went for tapas and cava in the Design District and had a massage every single afternoon to warm us up.

One day it was just too windy and cool to sit by the pool, so we hunted down a protected sunny spot in a crazy wicker pod in the Standard gardens where we could at least sit in the warm sun and read. Unfortunately it was already discovered by an older guy with a beard who looked like a boomer business guy, perhaps in the music industry, with his wife and daughter. As we peeked in the pod the guy, reading our disappointment actually said, “yes, we have the best spot in the place.”

So we decided to borrow some bikes and ride over to Ocean Drive instead.

I walked over to the front desk to ask if they had any bikes we could borrow, and Alex, the jovial concierge assured us that it would be no problem. So we got changed out of our suits and walked up to fetch our bikes. Unfortunately the same trio, three steps ahead of us, had the same brilliant idea.  They had taken the last three bikes while we were busy working out our outfits. The only thing left was a tandem, which looked ridiculous, and weighed approximately a thousand pounds.

Not to be deterred any longer, we hopped on and wobbled our way through the traffic, laughing our heads off at the stupid and impossible bike the entire way.

Amazingly we survived the traffic without incident, as we had barely the slightest control.

On the boardwalk along Ocean Drive, which was bright and sunny and packed with people, an old black guy yelled out “Hey, doublemint Twins!”, which we found hilarious. “Where you goin’, white lightning?”

Wobbling our way thrpugh the deco district, we stopped for lunch at the News cafe and sat outdoors in the clear sunshine.

A little doggie came by with a pail.

The Begging Dog

He had been trained by his owner, who rode alongside him on the street on a beat-up bicycle, to pick up bills thrown for him and put them in the pail.

Of course we had to throw money at the begging dog.

Then we laughed and wobbled our way home. Or at least, our home in Miami.

That night, too blissed out from our adventure, followed by massage and hammam time to get dressed and go anywhere, we shared a bottle of wine and a pizza and watched Garden State–two Doublemint Twins– in our matching Standard robes, in bed.