Miami New Times 05-05-2016 : Page 6

miaminewtimes.com miaminewtimes.com | RIPTIDE | ▼ ANGER MANAGEMENT | music | cafe | film | art | stage | Night+Day | metro | Riptide | letters | coNteNts | MiaMi New TiMes | MUSIC | CAFE | FILM | ART | STAGE | NIGHT+DAY | METRO | RIPTIDE | LETTERS | CONTENTS | MIAMI NEW TIMES M BY KYLE MUNZENRIEDER iami is a town of deep emotions, but perhaps none runs stronger than anger. We can find almost anything to be angry about. But here are ten things that undoubtedly ire everyone. Traffic and other drivers: Does this one need an explanation? No. No, it does not. In fact, we could write a ten-point list just about the aspects of driving in Miami that make us all insane, but you’ve already made this list in your head. So, instead, here’s a small sampling of things we’ve muttered (or maybe yelled) about other drivers while behind the wheel: “Yeah, jerk, I know leasing that Beemer is ruining your credit, so joke’s on you.” “I’d tell you to keep driving to Boca if you’re gonna go that slowly, but, actually, you need to get off the road immediately. Just get off at the nearest exit and find the clos-est parking space. Never drive again. Stay there for the rest of your life. Die there. Die in that parking space. Preferably soon.” Everyone always running late: It’s well known that timekeeping devices in Miami do not work. Perhaps it’s the city’s proximity to the Bermuda Triangle. As a result, no one here is ever prompt for anything. Ever. Yet there will come a time when we’ll hope in vain that the person we’re waiting for will be the exception. Perhaps we’ve even done our best to plan ahead and even told him to arrive a full hour before we actually need him there. Somehow that person still shows up 45 minutes late for the preferred, actual time of the meeting. We will get angry. We’ll send passive-aggressive texts while wait-ing for him. However, we will pull the same stunt ourselves on another person next week. tomatically tip 20 percent to any waiter who bothers to at least make eye contact. That’s it. That’s all servers need to do. The cashier at the gas station who decides to close the regis-ter and count some cash even after we’ve al-ready been waiting in line is totally acceptable. The realization we don’t even know what good customer service is anymore: We’ll au-MAGIC CITY RAGE TEN THINGS THAT MAKE MIAMIANS MAD. Miami is a world-class tourist destination, and nightclubs are essentially tourist traps (world-class tourist traps, but still). They lure visitors because that’s just what out-of-towners do when they come here, and then they get hit with outrageous hid-den fees — in this case, in the form of drink prices. Really, if half of these places have anything resembling an actual menu, it certainly is well hidden. As locals, we all ostensibly know this fact. Yet we can’t help but occasion-ally find ourselves at one of these places shortly after it opens. Can’t let those tourists think they’re cooler than we are. After waiting 15 minutes to get the bartender’s attention, we will order a simple house vodka and soda and be asked to pay something like $18 for the privilege, and then we will be pissed. We knew it was coming, but we’ll still be pissed. Illu Paying too damn much for a simple vodka soda or Bud Light: Sitting 30 minutes in a McDonald’s drive-thru line that wasn’t actually backed up that far to begin with just seems normal at this point. We’re just worn down. At times, it seems like the portion of our brains with the ability to judge good customer ser-vice has been removed. That is, until that rare moment in which we encounter someone with good service and we respond by silently screaming inside, Why isn’t everyone like this? Why is this town so clueless when it comes to serving the people giving them money? haps flying a banner over the stadium). Tourists: Fuck you, tourists! Thanks for being the backbone of our en-tire economy, but fuck you nonethe-less! You know what you did! Summer weather: You’re wet one way or another — by a torrential downpour from the skies or from your armpits due to suffocat-ing humidity. Either way, it’s not pleasant. Whoa, buddy, you need to check yourself. At least our traffic isn’t as bad as it is in Los Angles, and we’ll have you know we’re aggressively mov-ing toward better public transit! And why you got to be so WASPy and puritanical about everything being on time? It’s a cultural thing you wouldn’t understand. Time isn’t even real anyway! And what’s this about your complaints about our customer service? What? Do you think people are your slaves? Whoa, whoa, Mr. Out of Towner just walked in! Let’s all get down on our hands and knees and cater to his every whim! You want a shoeshine too, asshole? And of course the drinks in our bars are expensive, because it is a privilege to even drink here! Our nightlife is exceptional! And at least we appreci-ate real dance music in this town! We’ll have you know that our neighbors have one of the best MP3 collections we’ve ever heard blaring through our walls at 3:30 a.m. on a Tuesday! It’s surely better than whatever crap a wedding DJ performs at your sad hometown’s hottest club. Oh, and, hey, do we need to remind you again of which team has the only perfect season in NFL history? We will! The ’72 Dolphins! Perfectville: population 1. The lines here are bad only because everything here is worth waiting for, our tourists are great and have amazing taste in destinations, and the summer weather is a small trade-off for the wonderful weather the rest of the year. You’d have to be stupid to live somewhere with snow. So why don’t you just go back to what-ever boring little town you came from and keep your opinions to yourself? Kyle.Munzenrieder@MiamiNewTimes.com Any outsider who talks shit about Miami: ra st tio y M n b ar k P ou n te is GET MORE NEWS & COMMENTARY AT MIAMINEWTIMES.COM/NEWS apartments long enough has had the bad luck to live adjacent to someone who is an amateur DJ — emphasis on the “amateur.” If not, perhaps you’ve been awoken by the blaring samba soundtrack of your down-the-street neighbor’s 5-year-old’s birthday party (complete with bounce house) or your other neighbor driving in after the club with his car’s subwoofer blaring. Lines: Clubs. The Walgreens checkout. The Pollo Tropical drive-thru whenever we’re really craving a Tropichop. It just seems like we’re asked to line up and wait Your neighbor blasting that tiki-tiki mu-sic: Everyone in Miami who has lived in for anything worthwhile in this city, which, frankly, we do not have time for. We hate lines so much that we constantly conspire to cut them, which in turn sends everyone wait-ing in that line into a rage cycle of their own. The Dolphins: When the Heat performs poorly, we are disappointed. When the Marlins suck, we’re not even paying at-tention. When the Dolphins enter a rough patch, not only are fans angry, but also we’ve already filled in the blank on the next #Fire______ hashtag that will be trending on local Twitter (and are per-M ay 5-M ay 11, 2016 M ONTH XX–M ONTH XX, 2008 6 6

Riptide

Kyle Munzenrieder

▼ ANGER MANAGEMENT

MAGIC CITY RAGE

TEN THINGS THAT MAKE MIAMIANS MAD.

Miami is a town of deep emotions, but perhaps none runs stronger than anger. We can find almost anything to be angry about. But here are ten things that undoubtedly ire everyone.

Traffic and other drivers: Does this one need an explanation? No. No, it does not. In fact, we could write a ten-point list just about the aspects of driving in Miami that make us all insane, but you’ve already made this list in your head. So, instead, here’s a small sampling of things we’ve muttered (or maybe yelled) about other drivers while behind the wheel:

“Yeah, jerk, I know leasing that Beemer is ruining your credit, so joke’s on you.”

“I’d tell you to keep driving to Boca if you’re gonna go that slowly, but, actually, you need to get off the road immediately. Just get off at the nearest exit and find the closest parking space. Never drive again. Stay there for the rest of your life. Die there. Die in that parking space. Preferably soon.”

Everyone always running late: It’s well known that timekeeping devices in Miami do not work. Perhaps it’s the city’s proximity to the Bermuda Triangle. As a result, no one here is ever prompt for anything. Ever. Yet there will come a time when we’ll hope in vain that the person we’re waiting for will be the exception. Perhaps we’ve even done our best to plan ahead and even told him to arrive a full hour before we actually need him there. Somehow that person still shows up 45 minutes late for the preferred, actual time of the meeting. We will get angry. We’ll send passive-aggressive texts while waiting for him. However, we will pull the same stunt ourselves on another person next week.

The realization we don’t even know what good customer service is anymore: We’ll automatically tip 20 percent to any waiter who bothers to at least make eye contact. That’s it. That’s all servers need to do. The cashier at the gas station who decides to close the register and count some cash even after we’ve already been waiting in line is totally acceptable. Sitting 30 minutes in a McDonald’s drive-thru line that wasn’t actually backed up that far to begin with just seems normal at this point.

We’re just worn down. At times, it seems like the portion of our brains with the ability to judge good customer service has been removed. That is, until that rare moment in which we encounter someone with good service and we respond by silently screaming inside, Why isn’t everyone like this? Why is this town so clueless when it comes to serving the people giving them money?

Paying too damn much for a simple vodka soda or Bud Light: Miami is a world-class tourist destination, and nightclubs are essentially tourist traps (world-class tourist traps, but still). They lure visitors because that’s just what out-of-towners do when they come here, and then they get hit with outrageous hidden fees — in this case, in the form of drink prices. Really, if half of these places have anything resembling an actual menu, it certainly is well hidden.

As locals, we all ostensibly know this fact. Yet we can’t help but occasionally find ourselves at one of these places shortly after it opens. Can’t let those tourists think they’re cooler than we are. After waiting 15 minutes to get the bartender’s attention, we will order a simple house vodka and soda and be asked to pay something like $18 for the privilege, and then we will be pissed. We knew it was coming, but we’ll still be pissed.

Your neighbor blasting that tiki-tiki music: Everyone in Miami who has lived in apartments long enough has had the bad luck to live adjacent to someone who is an amateur DJ — emphasis on the “amateur.”

If not, perhaps you’ve been awoken by the blaring samba soundtrack of your down-the- street neighbor’s 5-year-old’s birthday party (complete with bounce house) or your other neighbor driving in after the club with his car’s subwoofer blaring.

Lines: Clubs. The Walgreens checkout. The Pollo Tropical drive-thru whenever we’re really craving a Tropichop. It just seems like we’re asked to line up and wait for anything worthwhile in this city, which, frankly, we do not have time for. We hate lines so much that we constantly conspire to cut them, which in turn sends everyone waiting in that line into a rage cycle of their own.

The Dolphins: When the Heat performs poorly, we are disappointed. When the Marlins suck, we’re not even paying attention. When the Dolphins enter a rough patch, not only are fans angry, but also we’ve already filled in the blank on the next #Fire__ hashtag that will be trending on local Twitter (and are perhaps flying a banner over the stadium).

Tourists: Fuck you, tourists! Thanks for being the backbone of our entire economy, but fuck you nonetheless! You know what you did!

Summer weather: You’re wet one way or another — by a torrential downpour from the skies or from your armpits due to suffocating humidity. Either way, it’s not pleasant.

Any outsider who talks shit about Miami: Whoa, buddy, you need to check yourself.

At least our traffic isn’t as bad as it is in Los Angles, and we’ll have you know we’re aggressively moving toward better public transit!

And why you got to be so WASPy and puritanical about everything being on time? It’s a cultural thing you wouldn’t understand. Time isn’t even real anyway! And what’s this about your complaints about our customer service? What? Do you think people are your slaves? Whoa, whoa, Mr. Out of Towner just walked in! Let’s all get down on our hands and knees and cater to his every whim! You want a shoeshine too, asshole?

And of course the drinks in our bars are expensive, because it is a privilege to even drink here! Our nightlife is exceptional! And at least we appreciate real dance music in this town! We’ll have you know that our neighbors have one of the best MP3 collections we’ve ever heard blaring through our walls at 3:30 a.m. on a Tuesday! It’s surely better than whatever crap a wedding DJ performs at your sad hometown’s hottest club.

Oh, and, hey, do we need to remind you again of which team has the only perfect season in NFL history? We will! The ’72 Dolphins! Perfectville: population 1.

The lines here are bad only because everything here is worth waiting for, our tourists are great and have amazing taste in destinations, and the summer weather is a small trade-off for the wonderful weather the rest of the year. You’d have to be stupid to live somewhere with snow.

So why don’t you just go back to whatever boring little town you came from and keep your opinions to yourself?

Kyle.Munzenrieder@MiamiNewTimes.com

Read the full article at http://digitalissue.miaminewtimes.com/article/Riptide/2475758/301098/article.html.

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