Meridian Crossing
Thursday, 03.02., Miami

"You got the map?" Ronnie asked as we climbed into our car.
"I don't have a plan, but I have the map," I answered, and off we drove, crossing the Meridian to the beats of Snoop Dogg's 'Let's get Blown'. Next to Meridian was Jefferson Avenue, then there came Michigan, and after that - the MacArthurCauseway. You know this one, it's the palm framed road Don Johnson is cruising forevermore in the intro of Miami Vice. Star Island to the right, villas and yachts. To the left, the Port of Miami, huge cranes and countless containers.

After that, Parrot Island. And then, Downtown.
"Now to the left, following Highway 1, that should take us to the Biscayne Boulevard," I navigated. "We are right when we are driving along some kind of park."
"And some kind of stadium?", Ronnie said, all smiles. Without searching for it, we had found the American Airlines Arena. "That's where Miami Heat is playing their Basketball Games," Ronnie explained to me. And with that, the place is also the origin of this journey. As it was some snapshots of Miami, broadcasted in Eurosport in the pause of one of said games in December, that brought upon the idea of escaping the German winter and taking a plane to the States.

"We should take a picture", we decided. Parked at the ticket booth. And to our surprise saw that the booth was open.
"Is there a game on?" we asked, feeling a bit silly about this typical tourist question.
"Yes, this evening, Miami Heat versus Cleveland Cavaliers" we were told, all serious.
"And are there any tickets left?"
We were not all naive. We expected a sorry smile, or a 200$ answer. But no. 10$ standing space. So we got the first baseball tickets of our lives. And with them, the plan for the evening: going to an official NBA baseball game, popcorn and all.

Grinning like the Heat mascot, we got back into the car, and rolled down the Biscayne Boulevard, ready for the next encounter of the enchanting kind: Key Biscayne.
"I still can't believe it is here, in Florida, right next to Miami. I always thought it was somewhere else, maybe in the Carribean. Not an island, but more like Monaco. An own miniature state somewhere in the ocean," I thought aloud.
But no. There it was, a bridge away, bringing back the Key feeling.
"Had it really been only yesterday that we were driving over all those Key brigdes?", Ronnie wondered.
"Over and over," Nelly answered through the radio.

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