Benvinedo a Miami

If Cleveland is the setting for the wholesome family film about commercial aviation, then Miami is the cheesy, b-rate beach version.

This afternoon we circled a few times and nearly diverted because of thunderstorms on the runway. After a long wait on the tarmac and an even longer drive we made it to the hotel.

Independently owned, built in 1947 and apparently still clinging to it's teenage glory years, the sprawling complex now caters exclusively to airline crews, which only adds to the surreal accumulation of kitsch here.

Anywhere among the mass produced oil paintings circa 1966, the resin statues of mermaids or the shaggy potted palms you'll spot clusters of a few ladies, one or two fabulous gay men and two gray-haired guys exchanging stories over drinks and chips.

At any given moment the lobby could swell with crews in exotic and colorful uniforms chattering away in a variety of languages, and, thanks to the time change, usually ready for a drink.

It may not be our most glamorous layover, but it certainly is the most bizarre.

In all fairness the accommodations aren't uncomfortable, the workout room is decent, we're right on the beach, and there is (if you are luckier than we, and don't have to check out before 5am) an expansive free breakfast. So I won't complain.

When we first got in it was too humid and gross to do anything other than nap. After the heat of the day had passed, I ventured out. Unfortunately, the promised hotel bikes were out of commission, so I took to the strip on foot.

For about a mile I wandered past a questionable assortment of souvenir shops, liquor stores, well-known franchises that still sported the dated version of their company logo and hit-or-miss dollar stores, all housed in shades of dirty pink and turquoise, embellished with neon signage.

In one of these I found an utterly irresistible deal on bagged Starbucks coffee and squashed specimens of my favorite protein bars (they'll be squashed in my suitcase by the time I need emergency sustenance anyway!) and splurged.

As is too often the case, my eyes were bigger than my suitcase, and I now dread lugging my additional cargo through security....and the imminent teasing from my crew.

As I hinted above, tomorrow is going start early and fly us hard. But if all goes well, we'll get in early enough for me to catch an evening flight to Washington or Baltimore, and I can start my four day weekend at home as soon as possible.