NO, LET’S NOT.
Years ago, when we were students, my friend Stephan and I decided to visit Miami Beach during our winter break. With our limited funds, the cost of fuel for the 3000-mile round trip would leave us with barely enough to feed ourselves if we stuck to bologna sandwiches and maybe ramen noodles, if we could find a place to boil water. We definitely lacked the funds to pay for any kind of shelter.
Sleeping on the beach at night would not be a suitable option. Public beaches were patrolled at night, and we would have wound up being treated to free room and board, if you know what I mean. We decided that if worse came to worse, we could put a blanket down on the beach and sleep for a few hours during the day when we could blend in with the lounging tourists and not be conspicuous.
We ended up having better fortune than we had anticipated when Stephan and I ran into some girls we knew from campus, and they invited us to sleep on the floor of their motel room. We had further good luck when the manager of the facility discovered our presence and didn’t object to the arrangement. He even suggested that we might want to sleep on some lounge chairs on the motel’s private beach.
Later, we encountered two of our buddies from our home campus, Howard and Ron, who were looking for someone with whom to hitch a ride home at the end of the vacation. They had money to contribute to the fuel funds, which allowed us to reallocate some of our own scarce resources from fuel to food. They too were invited to share the floor of the girls’ room.
It turned out that not all of us guys had to sleep on the floor. Apparently, one of the girls had an ulterior motive when she invited us to share the room. She invited Stephan to share her bed. The two of them were not deterred by the lack of privacy and I found that the sound of their activity was disturbing my sleep, so I chose to take advantage of the lounge chairs on the beach, while the rest seemed undisturbed and continued to sleep in the room.
On New Year’s Eve, as a revelrous atmosphere began to heat up, we all went separate ways. Stephan and his bedmate decided to spend the evening together. I have no idea what the other girls decided to do, nor do I know where Howard and Ron went. Myself, I decided to stroll down the main street, Collins Avenue (state route A1A), and see what might develop.
The area of Miami Beach where we were located is a long, narrow island just off the east coast of Miami. It consists of a main street, Collins Avenue (State Route A1A), running north and south, with hotels on either side. There are side streets that run east and west one block in each direction. Those on the east side of Collins end at the beach that fronts on the open Atlantic.
This is what it looks like:
Collins Avenue was jammed with bumper-to-bumper automobile traffic and was at a standstill. Motorists had their windows open, and they and their passengers were conversing with pedestrians. Everyone was in a revelrous mood. Miami Beach was one continuous New Year’s Eve party.
As I was wandering down the street, moving in a southward direction, I looked up to see a wall of humanity moving rapidly in my direction. The wall extended from the traffic on one side to the buildings on the other, leaving me no choice but to surf along with the human wave front.
I asked the fellow who happened to be surfing adjacent to me, “What is this? Where are we going?” He replied, “We’re storming this hotel to crash an Ike and Tina Turner concert inside.”
Inside the hotel’s front entrance, I found myself, with the rest of the mob, in a square-shaped lobby that rose two stories high. At ground level, there were storefronts located along the four sides of the square. There was a balcony at the second-story level protruding out from above the stores. At the back of the lobby, opposite the front entrance, was a staircase leading to the balcony. It started as two staircases and converged at the top.
To reach the concert, it was necessary to access the balcony level at the top of the stairs.
Here is a diagram showing the layout:
Standing at the top of the stairs were two large security guards blocking the way by holding two-by-four beams across the top of the staircase. The stairs were only wide enough to allow rows of three people each to ascend side-by-side. That meant that three people would have to lead the mob if they decided to rush the guards. It seemed that no one wanted to volunteer to be in the front position.
A manager was standing on the balcony to the left of the guards. The mob had momentarily become quiet and still. The manager took advantage of that moment to announce:
“Your way is blocked; you can’t get past us. The police have been called. You might as well turn around and go back where you came from.”
Slowly as the reality dawned on them, individual members of the mob began to move towards the exit. As this was happening, the man who I had spoken to earlier, when I was first caught in the human wave, was standing next to me; we were near one of the store windows. He noticed a wooden chair that happened to be on the floor within his reach. He lifted the chair over his head, poised to drive it into the window.
He raised his voice and shouted, “Let’s loot the place!”
As one, the mob turned toward him anticipating his next move. He swung the chair back in preparation to shatter the window. The mob faced him tensely, poised to surge forward the moment the window shattered.
Gently, I grasped his wrist. He looked towards me. I gazed directly into his eyes and said, “I have a better idea; let’s go outside and see if we can meet a couple of hot chicks.”
He hesitated for a moment and then replied, “Yeah, that’s a good idea, let’s do that.”
He lowered the chair to the floor, and we turned towards the exit. Members of the mob gradually relaxed and we all filed through the doorway and back out into the balmy Florida night.
To this day, many years later, it is hard to believe that I single handedly prevented an episode of looting. But that is exactly what I did that night.
I have no idea whether my friend ever met any “hot chicks.” After exiting the hotel, he and I immediately went our separate ways.
One might think that the story ends here, but one would be mistaken. The rest of the story will be told in Chapter Two, posted here:
{This story is dedicated to Alexandra Tsuneta who inspired me to write it.}
