I finally turned the TV off and left the brown room. In daylight I was surprised to find the motel had a swimming pool. There was no one in it. I had no idea where I was, or where Miami Beach was in relation to anywhere else. The beach itself was a strip of sand ,nothing great, but full of women in bikinis cut high up the inside thigh. They were sunbathing even though it wasn't sunny just humid and hazy.
Perhaps the thing to do with to be would be to plan my next trip. That's what travelling is like, isn't it? You get to a place and then immediately start thinking about where you're going next. Wandering off the beach I found a travel agent with posters of Cuba in the windows, Cuba. Yes, that would be good. It was beginning to dawn on me that Miami was already too huge. It would be easier to get to Cuba than negotiate this place. I picked up a leaflet about Cuba and went back to the pool with it.
“Cuba? Forget it” announced a woman in high heels in the sarong who came tottering up. She was much older than me, blonde and drinking some primary coloured cocktail. “ Cuba. There's nothing there. Believe me. I know.” Marnie was her name. She was pretty enough. But a bit bloated looking.
“I used to go everywhere. Everywhere. I was an air hostess for American Airlines. The best, I tell you, the best. We had a ball until the jerks grounded me”
“What for?”
“Oh, I put on a little weight ,just a little , they gave me several warnings but you know, I couldn't shift it honey. It's glandular.”
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Letters from Suzanne to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.