Miami. It’s practically a byword recently. It’s the place everyone loves to hate. Or mock. If all else fails, they feign wide-eyed shock.
Yeah, it’s the place where a drug-addled nut might just chew your face off. Everyone else can bask in the horror. Miamians just shrug. It happens. So it happens here.
It’s a place where appetites are definitive. A news anchor calls the Philadelphia 76ers the 69ers. Everyone tee-hees. They must think about sex a lot down there. No shit.
Everyone wants to root against Miami. They’re plasticky and artificial. Just like the city. As rest of the country is drowns in sincerity.
I wish I had a nickel for every reality show about police in the Miami area. COPS, The First 48, Unleashed: K-9 Broward County, SWAT: Miami-Dade, Police Women of Broward County, Miami Drug Cartel. Hell, even Animal Cops: Miami.
When the allure of CSI: Miami and Nip/Tuck wears off, people are still fascinated. Can’t look away. When I moved away from Miami, the righteous New Englanders just wanted know one thing: “Why’d you come here?” They’d all go there if they had the chance.
Everyone wants superficial beauty and sex and bizarre gratification. They pretend they don’t. Pretend Miami has what they want. Then hate it. Except most Miamians don’t live lives of endless indulgence. They have endless weariness instead.
So keep watching your shows. Watch the bizarre shit that goes down in a poor, violent city. Shake your head. Pat yourself on the back. Drool a little. Jack off when no one’s watching. We just shrug.
Because the bizarre will happen. And it’ll happen in Miami. And everyone else will be transfixed. But in Miami, it won’t be the zombie apocalypse. It won’t be entertainment. It’ll just be the news.