I’ve lived in Miami my whole life.Not the Miami in the magazines and TV shows, the one with the expensive boatsand beautiful women in colorful bikinis, the real one. The one where my dad was
shot on his walk home from the bus stop by some gang members. They probably wanted some money for coke, it’s kind of the cool thing for kids my age, but my dad only had ten dollars and sixty-seven cents on him. We don’t carry hundred dollar bills in our pockets like those rich people on the TV shows. In fact, I’ve lived here 18 years and I’ve never seen an a-hundred dollar bill. Maybe that’s why those guys shot him they just wanted to be more like the rich people on TV. For them it probably wasn’t just killing some poor nobody on his way home from his job as a dishwasher at the neighborhood KFC, it was an episode of CSI: Miami. They were the badass criminals who escape the cops and get all the beautiful girls with their diamonds and thousand-dollar bills. I’ve actually never seen the show but all of my friends watch it. It’s the new show that everyone watches because it has drugs, tits, and Cuban criminals getting what they deserve. When we were younger we used to watch Hogan knows best which was great because in between episodes we would always go outside and pretend that we were the famous ones living in the big house on Miami Beach and driving the fancy cars.
My mom used to read to me and my younger sister from this free magazine called “Miami.” Every night before we went to sleep our minds were filled with vivid images of ostentatious penthouses overlooking the bay and stories about normal people living amongst celebrities and artists. Dreams of rolls-royces, lavishly decorated homes on star Island, and ornate restaurants overflowing with people in long dresses and Armani suits filled our heads: no one gets shot just for walking home in this Miami and the biggest worry of locals is which dress to wear to the cocktail party Friday night. For eight hours of the day we were able to be who we wanted to be, what all those people who had never been to Miami thought we were; and
then the next morning we would wake up, play rich people, watch TV shows about people partying and shopping on Miami Beach, and read more of a Miami magazine just in time to escape to our dreams once again.
shot on his walk home from the bus stop by some gang members. They probably wanted some money for coke, it’s kind of the cool thing for kids my age, but my dad only had ten dollars and sixty-seven cents on him. We don’t carry hundred dollar bills in our pockets like those rich people on the TV shows. In fact, I’ve lived here 18 years and I’ve never seen an a-hundred dollar bill. Maybe that’s why those guys shot him they just wanted to be more like the rich people on TV. For them it probably wasn’t just killing some poor nobody on his way home from his job as a dishwasher at the neighborhood KFC, it was an episode of CSI: Miami. They were the badass criminals who escape the cops and get all the beautiful girls with their diamonds and thousand-dollar bills. I’ve actually never seen the show but all of my friends watch it. It’s the new show that everyone watches because it has drugs, tits, and Cuban criminals getting what they deserve. When we were younger we used to watch Hogan knows best which was great because in between episodes we would always go outside and pretend that we were the famous ones living in the big house on Miami Beach and driving the fancy cars.
My mom used to read to me and my younger sister from this free magazine called “Miami.” Every night before we went to sleep our minds were filled with vivid images of ostentatious penthouses overlooking the bay and stories about normal people living amongst celebrities and artists. Dreams of rolls-royces, lavishly decorated homes on star Island, and ornate restaurants overflowing with people in long dresses and Armani suits filled our heads: no one gets shot just for walking home in this Miami and the biggest worry of locals is which dress to wear to the cocktail party Friday night. For eight hours of the day we were able to be who we wanted to be, what all those people who had never been to Miami thought we were; and
then the next morning we would wake up, play rich people, watch TV shows about people partying and shopping on Miami Beach, and read more of a Miami magazine just in time to escape to our dreams once again.
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