Miami Vices

I went down to Miami Beach this past weekend with a friend. It was my first big trip since leaving practice (unless Myrtle Beach counts as a ‘big’ trip—see previous posting) so I was ready for a change of scenery. I also enjoy placing myself among the genetically blessed as a little sociological experiment, and Miami is chock full of them. I have never seen as many beautiful human beings in one locale as I have in South Beach. The men and women there, regardless of age and race, are flawless physical specimens. Not only are they physically attractive, they are well maintained. It’s a sea of pedicures, cheekbones, sculpted hair and exfoliated skin. The women look great too.

For me the challenge is not to be intimidated by this exotic species of human being. Even with my doctorate degree, I find myself insecure and eager for their approval. When I get it, I turn into Sally Field at the Academy Awards—“the pretty man laughed at my joke! He likes me! He really likes me!” I feel like a goat who’s wandered into a herd of gazelles, so I usually rely on my sense of humor to gain me entry into the collective.

I think some people were trying other methods, with varying degrees of success. One of the more popular t-shirts I spied around town was screen printed with what looked like an illustration from a tarot card deck. An emaciated man was being plagued by demons, and above the illustration in Gothic print was the word “Affliction”. On the right man, it was a magnificent look. Saturday afternoon, however, while we were strolling along Ocean Drive I spied a morbidly obese man wearing the same shirt. While part of me admired his chutzpah for wearing designer duds despite not having a designer bod, the other part of me had to question his choice. There are certainly clothes that flatter every body type, but this particular shirt was not among them. He had to cut a slit in the collar of the t-shirt to get it around his neck without choking him, and even then the fabric was straining. More obvious than that, though, was the sight of this unhealthy creature wearing a shirt with that particular message. I think if you are going to successfully wear a shirt that has “Affliction” written upon it, you cannot appear to be afflicted.

Seeing this man, though, did bring me back to reality. I realized I wasn’t the only one who wanted a piece of the glamorous life, and I think it’s only human to feel that way. It looks like the beautiful people are having a lot of fun. But in the end, they are only people too, and you can’t build a meaningful life on fun. A meaningful life comes from accomplishments—and I have to wonder what some of these beautiful people have really accomplished.

So by the time we hit the cocktail parties, I was over my insecurities. I won’t say I didn’t still get a little thrill whenever I got one of the gazelles to smile at me, but I felt like I was one hell of an accomplished goat whether they liked me or not. I still wasn’t secure enough to wear one of the “Affliction” shirts, however. I needed to know the beautiful people were laughing with me, not at me.