Miami by Bus and Boat

I'm not as jaded as I thought. The tour was well worth it. I got to see parts of Miami I probably wouldn't have ventured out to see.
I particularly enjoyed the short time in "Pequeno Habana". The rollers had not started in the Padilla Cigar Factory, but the place was a genuine cigar factory, gussied up a bit, but cigars were made. And good ones too. I had a Padilla 52-ring Torpedo that rated a 90 in "Cigar Aficionado" that cost under six bucks! The finish of the cigar, and the draw were superb. I'm not one of the smokers with a literary palette. I can't describe the flavors in wine-tasters terms very well, but the taste of chocolate and a little pepper along with a medium body or strength worked well. And it smoked well in the wind. One of the problems with cigars is that they are normally smoked outside in our "nanny" society. I actually agree with that dicta. The stench of bad plastic-tipped "blunts" and cigarettes is truly disgusting. The Padilla Factory was surprising light in aroma. More like old leather chairs, than a smoking lounge. I've visited some shops with lounges that were absolute health hazards since they refuse to properly ventilate them. You should have a slight aroma on your clothes after a smoke, but not be tempted to throw them away!
And I love Cuban coffee. Hot, sweet and strong enough to make "Red Bull" a sedative! If you don't sweat after a cup, your cardio-doc should turn up your pacemaker! I'd love to sit in Padilla's front room, drink Cafe Bustelo and smoke another Torpedo while listening to the machine-gun rhythms of a native Cuban political harangue. "Para Libertad! Para Cuba!"
It's really hard to explain such a richly destructive craving in practical terms. The end result of such indulgence would be death or debilitation. But the end result of everything else is also death and debilitation. So moderation is needed, damnit!
The boat tour was the artificial, in every possible way, islands of Biscayne Bay. Except for the camouflage of "Fisher Island", these retreats of the over-paid are given real-estate agent floral names like "Palm" and "Hibiscus". Dredged literally from the bottom of the bay, they are the gaudy public display pieces of the super-rich. Elizabeth Taylor, the doctor who invented Viagra, "P Diddy" Combs, and even "Vanilla Ice" have followed the stylistic lead of Al Capone. I guess I'm just too egalitarian to approve of such true excess. But it all becomes a tribute to the American dream when you start to realize the vast scope of it all. Take miles of millionaires homes, thousands of luxury cars and boats, and then multiply that by the hundreds of such enclaves in this country from Kennebunkport to Palm Springs and you realize that something is really right here. Other countries may have a few at the top, we have cities of them! And the satellite dishes are out even in the poorer neighborhoods. And unless you are addicted to your own delusions and refuse help ,only then, are you truly homeless. In Miami Beach even the Haitians are smuggled in aboard luxury yachts. (See the reports in the news from two days about a group that beached the boat at speed on Haulover Beach!)