In my ongoing quest to speak at a seminar in every city that scores a spot on the colored weather map in USA Today, I am boarding another jet Thursday.
Next stop: Miami. Our own little third-world enclave, yet you don’t need a passport!
I’ve spent a lot of time in Florida over the years. Halbert moved to the Keys, then to Miami during the time I was working with him, and I racked up impressive air-miles going back and forth. See, I am a west coast boy through and through, and dislike humidity. So I always returned as soon as I could.
The nudity on South Beach was fun, of course.
But the humidity kills me. I live in the high desert, where we maybe get up to 20% moisture in the summer (and you get a static shock every time you touch the car door), on purpose. I like dry.
Not many icky bugs in the high desert, either. Fleas can’t live here. The crawly things you do come across are not slimy, and bloodsuckers are rare. Rattlers mostly keep their distance.
In Florida, you’re assigned a mosquito nest when you arrive. (“Here, this is yours — enjoy the swelling!”) And I don’t even wanna know what those wet, finger-sized monsters were that crawled into my shoe the last time I forgot to never leave anything on the floor overnight.
Plus, the sun is supposed to SET over the ocean, not rise over it. They got it completely backwards on the east coast. And those “waves”. Gimme a break.
Still, heading back to Miami is always good for a few laughs. Halbert’s holding a semiar — also good for more stories (and potentially an entire Rant). We will see what happens this time. The word “unpredictable” does not even begin to describe a typical Halbert event.
Wish me luck.
I’m gone until Sunday, and then turn around and fly down to Sin City for another seminar — this time, one of Carl Galletti’s big shindigs. That, too, should be eventful and fun.
So I’m gonna get a well-rounded look — again — at a section of American life few people ever see in the heartland.
Miami, where last visit I couldn’t buy a bagel in the airport because I didn’t speak the language. (What’s “bagel” in Spanish, anyway?)
And Las Vegas, where last visit the taxi driver did a forty minute hard sell on a hooker he was “representing”. I passed, but thoroughly enjoyed the earthy sales pitch.
Anyway, I’ll be out for the next 10 days or so. Be sure to check in after that, to get your fix.
Don’t have any wild parties while I’m gone, and make sure you let the cat in at night.
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