Everything you know is a lie [10/90]

<p>&lt;p&gt;I've been in Miami for the past few days. Without stable Internet connection. I'm actually writing this on my phone. &lt;/p&gt;<br>
&lt;p&gt;Anyway, all that great stuff they tell you about Miami is a lie. A bold face lie. A lying out your ass, making everything up lie. A dirty lying lie from the mouth of a liar. </p>
<p>Miami is full of old people. </p>
<p>Little old people. Big old people. White heads and dyed heads. All sorts of old people. So many old people that they're all starting to blur together. I can't tell one from another. </p>
<p>Old people who talk about old things. Old. People who don't know how to work a remote or turn on a computer. Old people who are innately attracted to casinos. </p>
<p>Which is where I find myself now. Lost in a sea of neon lights and white hair, baseball caps, and balding old men.</p>
<p>Now, I admit I'm biased. I don't gamble. I don't particularly like gambling, don't see the point. Since I was old enough to pick up a controller, I've been able to play electronic poker and gamble away fake money to my hearts content. And even then I was wary. I always cashed out before I could loose my meager winnings. The thought of loosing money like that, even fake money never sat well with me.

So now I'm trapped in a casino with a bunch of indistinguishable old people stating at flashing lights. Flashing lights and loosing money. No appeal. None.

Where are the beaches and babes, and boys with muscles. The jetskis and speed boats. The sun and sand. The random celebrity encounters.

All I've seen is old people, rain, and traffic.

Though I suppose I should have known better when I came to Miami with my grandparents.