Miami to Montreal

I am a stranger to Miami.

Though I have visited on many occasions I don't seem to find my way around nor I am familiar with the city districts. When I drive I get lost. This wouldn't happen in Los Angeles, where I can go, say, from Glendale to Santa Monica with relative ease and almost without any maps.

Miami has a strong appeal over other destinations, probably because of its beaches, its nightlife and probably because television series and movies of the eighties played a part in idealizing its laid-back atmosphere and 'Latino' culture.

That may be the reason why, when thinking of Miami, one is likely to picture roller skating cops, roller skating women and mojito-serving lounges. (My co-workers tended to get jealous every time they learnt I was being dispatched to Miami).

I remember taking a stroll around a Miami neighborhood. It was early March, or mid-October (it couldn't have been May or June because the weather wasn't scorching as it usually is). I walked about an hour (or two) and saw rows and rows of art-deco apartment buildings.

Once I came to Miami --Miami International Airport to be more precise. I flew from Montréal to meet my father.

This meeting that I had forgotten just came to my memory yesterday. I remember my father was happy of seeing me. At the time I was living in far away Québec province, so we hadn't seen each other for months. He was on a business trip to the US, his first stop being Miami. During most (if not all) of his life my father was a salesman, and in 2003 (when the meeting most likely took place) music sales were good (they were not booming as they had done in the mid-nineties but they weren't bad either. At least no one anticipated the global slump of 2008).

A year after this meeting my father passed away. I think that the next time I see him won't be much different from this airport meeting: I would be disembarking from a plane, arriving from a distant, cold city after a long trip. My father would already be waiting, sat in a deserted airport lounge, sunlight coming in through vast windows.

We would hug. He'd be happy to see me, but this time I'd be happier to see him than that day in Miami.