Miami is the city you fuck. That was what I used to say anyway. A place that’s great for a good time, but way too crazy to ever take seriously.
But 15 years and an entire career built on complaining about the place later, I’m still fucking here.
And every day, as I sit in the ever-worsening traffic, watch my friends move away, and get aneurysms every time I try to get anything resembling service, I ask myself why.
This is not some rah-rah Miami piece, about how we’re some emerging city with stunning diversity, and high culture, and blue skies, and how we're becoming the next great global destination. A) Because I don’t believe any of that and B) this piece wasn’t written by the CVB or Movoto.
And I wish the reason I'm still here was as simple as “the weather” or “the parties” or “the absolute abundance of cafecitos.” But after trying twice to leave, I know it’s none of that at all.
It's because I don't know how to live anywhere else, and whether Miami reflects me or I'm a person who reflects Miami, there's just not another city where I would fit in and thrive. And in that way, I'm kind of trapped.