Sunday, March 23, 2008

No Planes or Trains- Just Automobiles

As a New Yorker I must say I am disappointed in the public transportation Miami has to offer. Since trains and buses aren't really an option South Floridians take to the highways by the thousands each day to move at a snails pace and burn $3.40 per gallon for the privilege. Suffice to say, something must be done. I remember sitting in rush hour traffic for well over an hour to get from North Miami to the airport and longing for the easy, accessible, cheap, no-brainer transit system back home. No, it's not the cleanest in the world but it gets the job done. I would rather deal with an unpleasant smell every now and then, rather than sit in traffic for hours at a time with nothing but a dwindling gas tank to keep me company.

Speaking of which, why are there so many construction projects spread all over Miami? They only serve to make the traffic situation worse. Biscayne Blvd. becomes a nightmare after 96th Street. If you try cutting down any of those side streets you will run into construction site after construction site after construction site. Why would the City of Miami plan projects all around the same time in the same area, thus voiding Biscayne (AKA US-1, I-95s predecessor) as an alternative to the parking lot known as I-95? It bears mentioning that I have driven down I-95 in almost every state on the Eastern Seaboard and NO STRETCH of this interstate is as bad as it is in South Florida. Why is that?

I wonder if the meeting Miami-Dade Transit is having on Tuesday will make a difference.
I can't go because I have a Hands On Miami meeting that I must attend. But I wish I could be there to voice my frustrations about the situation. If the trains ran up here in North Miami I would park and ride every day. Here's hoping something happens soon because this whole traffic thing makes me want to leave Miami on the first thing smoking. Obviously it would have to be Amtrak since who knows where the Miami trains are?

Please read the press release about the meeting below, and attend if you can. Let your voices be heard!


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On Tuesday, March 25, 2008 Miami-Dade County Transit will hold will hold a public meeting to present the current status of the Orange Line – Phase 1: Miami Intermodal Center (MIC)/Earlington Heights Connector Metrorail extension project and to discuss activities projected for the next phase.

The public meeting will be held on Tuesday, March 25, 2008 with an Open House at 6 p.m. and a Presentation at 7 p.m. at Miami-Dade Transit’s Sheila Winitzer Central Administration Building Auditorium, 3300 NW 32nd Avenue, Miami, FL 33142.

The 2.4-mile MIC/Earlington Heights Connector Metrorail extension will run from the existing Earlington Heights Metrorail station to the Miami Intermodal Center (MIC) adjacent to Miami International Airport (MIA) and includes a new Metrorail station and bus terminal plaza. Direct access between the MIC Metrorail station and the airport will be provided by an automated people mover operated by MIA.

For additional information on Metrorail’s Airport Extension, please call 786-469-5550 or email mdtoutreach@miamidade.gov.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Yes. We. Can.

True Grit

I know I'm super late on this topic but like my grandma always says "Better late than never". As more news floods the national airwaves I find that I can do nothing but shake my damn head at the shenanigans and goings on in New York State.

Elliot Spitzer. Where do I begin? You made your career on the backs of others failures and shortcomings- perceived or otherwise. You attacked the hip hop industry with a fervor and vengeance that gave even the brashest, loudest mouthed in the black and brown music community pause.

In a nutshell, you acted like your crap didn't stink. But something else my wise old grandma always says is that "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones." Well you threw bricks and they turned to boomerangs and came back to shatter your house into nothingness.

How can a man call himself ethical, just, and fair when he can't even keep his commitment to those who mean the most to him in this world? And if he can so easily cast his family to the side how quickly would he have tossed the best interest of the good people of New York State to the wayside?

I hope every second of pleasure you garnered from your seedy romps were worth the money spent. Because if you add up the price tag of your rendezvous that is what your family and the people you swore and oath to were worth to you. Was it half a million? A million solid? Whatever the price I can guarantee your face and place as a lecherous, immoral, unethical two faced hypocrite is printed on page 4080 in the history books.

New York has been through enough turmoil to outlast all of our lifetimes combined. Thanks for giving outsiders yet another reason to examine us under a microscope to look for grime and grit.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Great Escape #2: MRI's & Nerve Conduction Exams

Thursday had to be singularly the worst day of my life.

Ok, I'm exaggerating. But you all get the point. Out of the 100 worst days of my life that I have had in my 30+ years Thursday March 13, 2008 ranks in the top 25. Yes, it was that bad.

I was in a car accident late last October that resulted in the total loss of my brand new car with less than 5000 miles on it, and of course, injuries to my body. The other guy went through his windshield but lived. It was one of those accidents that could have ended in death but thankfully all lives were spared. There was just a ton of money lost on my end since the guy was uninsured and I didn't have uninsured motorists insurance. Anything not covered by my basic insurance came out of my pocket.

So after going through the ringer with my former auto insurance company for months on who would pay for the MRIs I finally just went through my health insurance to have them foot the bill. I had been in pain needlessly for months. It was time for me to get some answers and treatment so that
I wouldn't be hurting in my joints and muscles every time the temperature dropped past 60 degrees.

Yesterday I had MRIs of my neck and shoulder.

I am claustrophobic.

The machine was very narrow.

Because they had to get accurate pictures of my neck they locked me into a face brace type of contraption that severely limited my range of movement.

I felt like I was in a coffin.

I had to be blindfolded in order to tolerate the suffocating feeling of being buried alive.

But the fun didn't stop there.

After at least an hour in that tomb-like, loud, beeping, grinding contraption the technician rolled me out, stuck a needle with dye into my arm and pushed me back in for another 15 minutes of torture.

It was one of the most horrific feelings I have ever felt in my life.

I do not know how I got through it.

But now that it's over, I know that I will never put myself through it again.

Never.

Later that day I had nerve conduction tests at my neurologists office to see how my nerves respond to stimulus.


I was marked with pens, measured, taped down and shocked with volts of electricity through various points across my body.

After it was all over

I went to do my taxes.

Yes, my taxes.

Federal and State since I lived in NY for half of 2007.

Simply put

Worst day EVER.

Saturday, March 8, 2008

My Day At The Historic Re-Opening of Virginia Key Beach (Part 3)

Without further adieu here is the third and final part to my story about the day I volunteered at the re-opening of VKBP. You can read parts 1 and 2 in the archives.

My girls and I walked across the park. I was amazed at how big the park really is. It's huge and in my humble opinion it is going to take a lot of man hours on upkeep. That is probably why the VKBP Trust is asking for volunteers to make a commitment to help out for at least five hours
on a monthly basis. If you live in the South Florida area and would like to be a part of something historic and truly rewarding please click the link that will follow this post in order to be taken to the VKBP website. You may sign up or request more information there.

Where was I? Oh yes. We walked across the huge park, being stopped every few minutes by park patrons who thought volunteer meant hauling trash cans over to their picnic area. We kindly told them that we were actually headed for an assignment but that they could head back over to the Trust building and make a request. We finally made it over to the V.I.P. tent. It was decked out beautifully and looked very chic. My two girls were quickly brisked away to the back of the tent to help out with the food. I, along with a young man whose name escapes me were stationed at the front of the tent to make sure that anyone trying to gain access to the V.I.P. area had a yellow wristband. And here is where the story goes south.

I come from N.Y., as you all should know by now. Maybe the meaning of V.I.P. is lost on some South Floridians. But in every state in the union V.I.P. stands for Very Important Person. Which means that you have done something, or paid some sum of money, or know someone and because of that you are in an area that is designated as nicer with more perks. It does not mean that you can stroll by, peek in and see wine and delicacy consumption, couches, lighting, etc and think, you can just mosey right on in.

To make a very long story short there was a serious misunderstanding between performers and those running the V.I.P tent. Every performer and member of the performers entourage were told they could come over to the tent after getting off the stage to eat, drink and mingle. That was not communicated to the people in charge of the tent. So when performers including singers, rappers, local djs etc would come to the tent and try to gain access we would tell them they couldn't come in because they didn't have the yellow wristband that must adorn the wrist of every V.I.P member. The people of course threw fits with the expected "Do you know who I am?" spiel. To which we had to call for two of the women who were vouching for people who could bypass us "bouncers" without the wristband.

I try to always exude class and behave like a lady in social settings. But once in a while people can push you to the limit. For the most part everyone was cool, respectful and friendly. But of course you always have the one or two who get what I like to call "extra". It's at those moments where you have to check a man/woman who thinks that a uniform, or in this case a yellow t-shirt means you are there to be talked down to, walked on and/or humiliated.


A few people found themselves on the receiving end of a breakdown. One of which was a member of a performer's entourage who will remain nameless. He was told by organizers that after the performer he was with exited the stage they could all come and eat. They had an entire clique with them including family. Said entourage member came directly up to me though there were two volunteers working the front of the tent at this point. He was full of bravado and bluster, but basically attempted to flip on me because one of his relatives was turned away at the door. I guess he is used to speaking to women in that manner in his usual interactions with them. Unfortunately for him I am not one of those women. I quickly nipped the situation in the bud and let him know a few things. One, that I wasn't the one who turned his relative away. He replied that he wasn't coming off on me, but he was frustrated. I told him to direct his frustrations elsewhere, and to take it down a volume. He rolled his eyes and asked me if I knew who he was. He stated he was in the entourage of a local rapper who again, will remain nameless.

South Floridians reading this blog will think I'm elitist and arrogant. They will take this as validation that all New Yorkers are this way. And maybe we are. But you all must understand. We are just used to moving through life faster and we have little time for b.s. After I told old boy that I was from New York where the real rappers are from and that unless he was exiting the stage with Biggie, Jay Z or Nas he really should come back to the world, he humbled out. He apologized for the disrespect. I guess he realized that wilin' out over a misunderstanding when you are a nobody in the clique of a still a nobody was very uncalled for. I saw him chilling in the tent throughout the night and he was very cool and down to earth after our disagreement. Sometimes it just takes a reality check for people to get their wits about them.

Needless to say this whole wristband thing caused a lot of unnecessary confusion. I think that performers at these types of events need to state how many people they are bringing so that organizers know in advance. Or they need their very own tent. It's that simple. I hate disorganization and the whole V.I.P. situation was all over the place. They definitely need to clean that up before the next big event.

The great thing that came out of working the tent that night was that I met one of the coolest sistas in Miami. She actually works in the same industry as I do and she's very well known in South Florida. We've been e-mailing each other back and forth since the event and have planned to hang out in the future. In fact we're meeting up tomorrow at a function in Coral Gables. I hope that as I come out of my shell I link up with many more accomplished women here. I really want to start building a network here that rivals the one I had back home.

One last tidbit- Jeffrey Osborne was the headlining performer and I didn't get to see one second of his performance because I was working. But I heard the performance and that man still has a set of pipes on him! I'm going to pick up one of his compilation cd's after hearing the great show that he put on.

Well that about sums up how my day went at VKBP. I'll be volunteering there again soon for beach clean up. I'll put up some pictures in my photobucket account for you guys to check out. Here is the VKBP link for the website if you guys want to sign up. Maybe I'll see you at the next event...

http://www.virginiakeybeachpark.net/volunteers.asp

Friday, March 7, 2008

Great Escape #1: Whipping Post In Paradise

Welcome to your first Taste of a Great Escape! These quick blurbs will let my readers know something about my life experience that I hope will shed a little light on the enigma that is moi.

I don't I have a lot of readers yet (I hope to change that soon, so please pass the word along to your friends, enemies, friendemies, relatives, co-workers, loved ones, neighbors, hairdressers, nail techs, gardeners, dermatologists, personal trainers etc). But the few readers I do have so far (thank you!!!) have asked me about the red pole that is in my profile picture.


The "pole" is actually a whipping post. It is located at the Fort in Christiansted, which is in Saint Croix, which is in the United States Virgin Islands. One of my best friends in the whole wide world is from the beautiful island of Saint Croix. During one of my two trips to STX I was mesmerized by the beauty, lush vegetation, white sandy beaches and cornflower blue skies that are the islands main attractions. On the flip side I was horrified by the Fort. The evidence of the inhumane treatment of the slaves at the Fort was a stark contrast to the clear waters breaking against the perfect shore and the cotton candy clouds floating overhead on balmy tropical breezes. One thought kept pulsing through my mind- TERRIBLE BEAUTY.

Slavery wasn't just an American thing. Anywhere there were black and brown people in the "free world" there was also oppression and enslavement. I still feel claustrophobia when I think about the hot cinder box square that was used as a jail cell for hundreds of slaves. I am only 5 feet 5 inches tall and I had trouble standing up straight in the cell.


Even against a backdrop of an island dream horrific events can take place. That is why the whipping post is my profile picture. It is a reminder to me, and those who read my blog that all that glitters aint gold.

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

My Day At The Historic Re-Opening of Virginia Key Beach (Part 2)

Part 1 to this story is here: http://escapeconcretejungles.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-day-at-historic-re-opening-of.html

I'm not a morning person. I will never be "chipper" with or without coffee. Monday-Friday I have to be at the office by 8 a.m. sharp. So it goes without saying that on Saturday's I like to sleep in- the later the better.

So when I signed up my two girls and I to volunteer at the re-opening of VKBP I took solace in the fact that I wouldn't have to get there until 11:30 a.m. That would mean at least three extra hours of sleep for me. Unfortunately I stayed up until 4 or 5 a.m. that morning so when my alarm rang out I kept hitting the snooze. Somewhere deep down in dreamland I knew I had to get up- I just couldn't bring myself to get out of bed. After one of the kids dragged me kicking and screaming into the bathroom to get ready I finally became coherent enough to pull myself together and get on the road.

The directions provided to us by Quentin, the volunteer coordinator were great. One of the things that annoys me to no end are people who give bad directions and get you lost in the source, burning gas and precious minutes/hours that you can never get back. But I digress. After a long journey down to the end of I-95 and across a long bridge we arrived to our destination unscathed at 11:40 a.m. Parking was a breeze at this point because the "official" kick-off wasn't until around 1 p.m.

The one thing that kind of rattled me at first was how hot it was that Saturday. It had been cold all throughout the week so I didn't expect the heat to come back full throttle so soon. Worse, the t-shirts they gave us to wear were bright yellow. I could see huge bumble bees and wasps buzzing around the park and I was concerned one of us would get stung at some point during the day. I'm allergic to stings, but decided to play it by ear and hope for the best.


After a somewhat disorganized sign-in process (they should really print out a roster beforehand to avoid confusion on the day of events) the girls and I went inside the
VKBP Trust building and changed into our t-shirts. Quentin asked for five volunteers to run a table for the kids. My girls and I, along with two other volunteers named Luz and Victoria were put in charge of "promotions" for the historical exhibits displayed around the park. We strategically placed the table off to the side of the children's playground, stocked up with coloring books, crayons, and paper to make oragami creations and got to work. We quickly designed some oragami boats, paper fortune tellers and drawings of our own and decorated our table with them to spark the children's interest.

We used a hook, line and sinker approach. The decorations were the hook. The line was the opportunity for them to draw and design things of their own. The sinker was that we had a paper called a passport to give to them that listed all the historical exhibits. If the kid's visited each exhibit and got the passport stamped as proof of their visit they could return the passport to us and win a prize. It was a good way to get the children to learn while having fun and enjoying the beautifully renovated park.

The experience was so incredible. My girls, especially my 14 year old loves small children so she was thrilled to help them draw and color all day. When things got slow around our area she would go into the playground and talk to parents to coax them into bringing their children over to our table to draw for us. The parent's and kid's were great for the most part. Of course there was an occasional parent who would make comments like "Saturday is for fun, not for learnin. They learnt all week. No learnin today." But hey. You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink.


At about 3:30 Quentin came over and scooped up Luz and Victoria because he needed help out in the parking lot directing cars. The kids and I held down the fort until our first shift ended at 4:30. Of course when a day is so blazing hot like that Saturday was the atmosphere must cool itself off. Right before we were scheduled to turn the table over to the next shift the skies opened and started pouring rain. We scrambled to pack everything up in the boxes and ran for shelter in the VKBP Trust building. Once inside we freshened up, cooled down, had a few drinks and just took a breather. I loved working with the kids but I could see the day out in the sun had drained them. I was nursing a major migraine headache myself and considered just going home. But the girls insisted they wanted to stick around for the second shift so I conceded.

Our next assignment would be to work the V.I.P. tent way across the park, over by the soundstage. All throughout the day we had been oblivious to the adult population. We heard the performances and local djs broadcasting from the soundstage but didn't focus on what was being said or what was going down. Anyone who works with children knows they command your full attention. So when we were directed to the V.I.P. section I had no idea what to expect. Let's just say I should have expected the unexpected...

Sunday, March 2, 2008

From Stepford Wife to Super Woman...

As you guys may or may not know I am a Miami transplant. I’ve been here for about a year. I moved here for a new job opportunity and to get my family out of the craziness that, more often that not is New York City.

At first I moved through life here almost as if in a fog. I had on my perfect Stepford Wife smile. My clothes were flawless. The pools were aqua blue. There was no fear of being pricked by a hypodermic needle on the gorgeous Florida Beaches. Oh my gosh! My neighborhood is even more convenient than the ones in New York. You mean to tell me I have a mall complete with movie theater, tons of nail salons, every restaurant known to man, a Wal-mart AND a K-mart, my dentist/primary care/eye/gyno doctor all within a three mile radius? I was hooked. Or so I thought.

It took me a few months to realize what I was missing. Friends! Back in New York my homegirls were but a phone call, train or cab ride away. But here I had not one road dog. Not for lack of trying. I just didn’t know where to meet people. I work in a company that is 99% Hispanic/Latino. I noticed a huge difference between the Nuyoricans and Dominicans I knew from back home and the first generation, recently immigrated Columbians, Argentineans and Cubans that I work with. For starters, the Hispanics here are exclusively family oriented. Their main concern is to come in to the office, crank out the work, and see the parking lot in their rearview mirror at 5:02 p.m. because their priority is to get home to the fam.

I’m not used to that. Though I have a family at home I sometimes like to wind down before heading home. A drink after work. Perhaps a stroll down 8th Avenue from times square. Instead of jumping on the train at 42nd street why not walk down to 14th street so you can have time to chat with your homeboy about the new independent flick that’s showing in the Village? Scratch that. Let’s run to Starbucks. We can get two Iced Latte’s with a shot of hazel nut flavor, cream, sugar, make it sweet. Don’t forget to add the whipped cream with a splash of caramel on top. We’ll sit by the window and ignore the people that walk by while we unload about the latest drama that’s been taking place at the office.

My co-manager told me, almost with a complacent, dead eyed look that she just grew accustomed to the fact that she will never have friends here. Her husband is all she needs. “You’ll get used to it,” she told me, and shrugged her shoulders as if to say “Accept it or go back from whence you came.”

For many months I did just that. Accepted it. My routine was:

M-F 6:00a rise from bed

M-F 7:00a leave my house to start my long, arduous commute

M-F 8:00a arrive at the office

M-F 5:00p leave the office

M-F 6:00p arrive home

M-F 6:01p get online/watch tv/talk on the phone

M-F 12:00a go to bed

Sa-Su Repeat above steps, just replace work with Clean House/Get Nails Done/Grocery Shop.

By December 2007, I had had enough. I decided to come out of the fog of discontentment an depression. I would take charge of the situation. I would get up, get out and do something. I would start volunteering. I would go online and make connections with people in the Miami area. I would strike up conversations with people out in public. Something, ANYTHING! Whatever had to be done to make the best of the situation instead of putting my tail between my legs, packing up my house and family and heading back home.

I joined Hands On Miami, (http://handsonmiami.org/) a very well organized volunteer group that mobilizes volunteers to help out in local community activities. My first volunteer function: The Grand Re-Opening of Virginia Key Beach Park. In my last post I gave you a little background information about VKBP. In my next post I’ll tell you about my day and how I FINALLY connected with a positive sista here in Miami. Stay tuned…