Phase two: The starting-to-feel-like-a-local phase
Where you’re living: Brickell. Or, if you just can’t bring yourself to end the fantasy of South Beach, somewhere around Flamingo Park.
Where you’re going out: South Beach happy hours, Brickell, or Wynwood on nights when you feel like going somewhere “interesting.” Nights end at this cool “dive” bar you just discovered called Better Days.
Your mantra: “Yeah, so, living here is a lot different than being on vacation.”
Go-to activity: Waiting for people to show up, and getting flaked on.
The novelty of living in Vacationland has worn off, but you still see the city through pastelito-colored glasses. Sure, the club promoter/model you dated turned out to be living with his parents (or was he an escort?), and you’re confused as to why people who say they’re 15 minutes away never show up. But the weather is still great and the beach is still RIGHT THERE. Although you haven’t gone in -- wait, when was the last time you went? -- you’re learning the traffic patterns, and can bitch about the causeways with the best of them. And you’ve even dipped your toes into mainland Miami, because you’re convinced Brickell is where the “real Miami” is.