This is the delivery truck. Ah, who forgot that on Valentine’s Day, I deliver flowers in downtown Miami? Using this rig, I doubled the number of deliveries in fewer hours than last year. (I managed fourteen in six hours today.) This will likely change the way Joe (JP’s brother) does business. Warning, don’t try this job if you only ride your wheels every other week or something.
You’ll notice the blue plastic box on my carrier. The flowers are inside, in a glass vase with a greeting card, which you can see. These are expensive arrangements and if one gets broken, there is nothing to replace it. I’m surprised Joe agreed right off to let me use the bike. The largest delivery was three dozen roses, with orchids, to a law office on Biscayne Boulevard. The package was so heavy (around 45 pounds) that we had to drive it over in a truck. Provided she doesn’t get a hernia lugging the thing home, some guy is gonna get lucky tonight.It was a nice visit to Miami. It isn’t so bad provided you don’t have to go there every day. The city center population is growing now that it has become nearly impossible to commute. There is a traffic jam every day in both directions, more due to bad drivers than numbers of vehicles. Face it, American driving customs have been permanently lost in this part of the country. Condos have dropped to the $120,000 range for anyone who wants to live in a cubicle smaller than the one you work in. With comparable amenities.
Why is it so hard to find a good cup of coffee downtown? One disquieting aspect of deliveries was the government offices. You have to show ID. My old license doesn’t have the magnetic strip but it will later this year. They swipe your license through the card-reader. I had two deliveries to the busiest office, the Ministry of Child Support. The scary part is that it was clear this card system was being used for a lot more than just tracking who entered the building. All governments have shown they are poor custodians of public information. That is, with the possible exception of Hong Kong, where they don’t even allow politicians to measure the Gross National Product. Civil servants can’t be trusted with such data.
Downtown Miami is a bizarre place. Hourly parking is more than minimum wage. The economy is built around pawn shops and law offices. There are two or three department stores and fifty over-priced sandwich shops with 1980s Los Angeles type names, like “The Eatery”. The thing about tourists is that there aren’t any. Yet there are people galore, lead by a surplus of paunchy twenty-something men with that distinctive vacuum cleaner salesman look. And smell. (The one you get when you wear the same outfit your father graduated in.)
Overall, the flower business was slow, and the tips were gone this year. The stuffing has been yanked out of the economy. My single tip today was one dollar. By three [o’clock] I had done all deliveries scheduled. I dropped by Jimbo’s on the way home to check the Karaoke show. It was late arriving, so Will, Jackie and I went over to the Wayside, them for habit, me to stare in casual disbelief at the waitress. Don’t get me wrong, she is completely unapproachable to non-millionaires, but it is nice just to see a babe hereabouts. Tight buns.
Who is the mystery musician? Some “short stocky guy with curly gray hair” has been in Jimbo’s asking about the Friday show. I can’t place him, which means nothing. He apparently has a print-out with some information about my music. These lists are available on the Internet. He’s told people he will be in Friday “to play”. None of this has been cleared with me. Florida musicians never have gray hair (ahem) so let’s see who shows up. I’ve invited enough people over time.
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