Insane City

by Dave Barry

  Under the relentless guidance of these professionals, Seth and Tina’s small informal wedding for close friends and family underwent wedding bloat, mutating into a large formal affair that would be attended by many people neither of them knew. Seth objected at first, but he backed down when he realized that Kevin had been right: Tina wanted a big wedding.

  “Just go along,” advised Kevin. “Here’s how you look at it. Tina has a disease. Bride’s Disease. They all get it. There’s no cure, except having a wedding. Until she has one, she’s going to be basically insane. She’s going to demand that you give a shit about silver patterns. Just hang in there until the wedding and then it’ll all go away and she’ll be basically normal again, except for sometimes making people watch the video.”

  Seth took Kevin’s advice: He went along. Over the past year, he’d spent countless hours looking with a frown of attempted interest at place settings and cakes and calligraphy samples (they finally settled on Bickham Copperplate, with swash capitals). He did his best to stay connected with what he thought of as Real Tina, who was trapped inside Bride Tina; he saw glimpses of her, and sometimes even got Real Tina to laugh at Bride Tina. But she hadn’t laughed much in recent months, and now that the wedding was at hand, she hardly laughed at all.

  She was definitely not laughing now. Seth couldn’t yet see her, as he trotted toward the baggage carousel: a crowd of onlookers was blocking his view. But he definitely could hear her. She was using her bullhorn voice.

  “ARE YOU FAMILIAR WITH THE FOURTH AMENDMENT?” she was asking somebody, evidently rhetorically. “CAN YOU MORONS EVEN COUNT TO FOUR?”

  Seth, trailing his carry-on suitcase and leaving the Groom Posse behind, started running toward his bride.

  4

  Laurette knew now that she and her children were going to die.

  The men had lied to her; the current was not taking the little boat to Miami. She saw nothing in any direction but the dark, tossing Atlantic. The little boat was taking on water; it was over her ankles now. From time to time she tried to splash it out with her hands, but it was difficult to do this while holding the baby and with Stephane clinging to her.

  The baby had finally stopped crying, too exhausted now even to whimper. Stephane was trying to be brave, but his eyes shone with fear. Laurette hoped he could not see her own terror. She dared not meet his eyes when he asked her, over and over, when it would end, when they would reach land. Soon, she told him, over and over. Soon.

  She prayed that, when death came to them, it would be swift.

  5

  Seth pushed his way through the crowd of onlookers and found a standoff at the baggage carousel. On one side stood Tina, in jeans and a scoop-necked white T-shirt, looking angry but, as always, spectacular. On the other side were two uniformed U.S. Customs officials, one of whom held a leash attached to a German shepherd. On the floor between the two sides was Tina’s $950 Tumi suitcase, which was open, revealing Tina’s wedding dress. This apparently was of great interest to the dog, whose sleek black snout was zeroed in on the suitcase at a range of about two inches. Watching from several feet away was Tina’s younger sister and maid of honor, Meghan, who would be considered beautiful if she weren’t always being held to the standard of Tina, a comparison that lowered Meghan’s status to merely very pretty.

  “Hey, babe,” said Seth, reaching Tina’s side. “What’s going on?”

  Tina looked at him for a second, registering his presence, then turned her attention back to the dog.

  “If that animal drools on my dress, I will sue for damages,” Tina said. “That is my wedding dress, and I am getting married Saturday. I am getting married in that dress. Do you understand?”

  “We understand that, ma’am,” said the Customs agent holding the leash, a stocky, balding, worried-looking man named Vincent Peppers. “You made that very clear. Several times.”

  “Six times,” said the other Customs agent, a dark-haired, muscular man named Roberto Alvarez.

  “But like I told you, ma’am,” continued Agent Peppers, “when we get an indication from the dog, we have to investigate it. And Sienna alerted on your luggage.”

  “Sienna?” said Tina.

  “Sienna is the dog,” said Peppers. “It’s a color. Like the crayon. Burnt sien—”

  “I know it’s a color,” snapped Tina.

  “Well, not everybody does,” said Peppers. “So what we’re going to do is, we’re going to take out the dress and . . .”

  “You’re not going to touch the dress,” said Tina. “I am getting married in that dress.”

  “Seven,” said Agent Alvarez.

  “It’s hemp,” said Seth.

  “What?” said Peppers.

  “The dress,” said Seth. “It’s made from hemp.”

  Tina wanted a green wedding and had insisted on using, wherever possible, sustainable fibers. The floral installations featured organic, locally grown flowers, herbs and grasses; the wedding rings were made from recycled gold. The band and the DJ had pledged to offset their electricity use with renewable energy certificates. And to compensate for all the air travel, a company in Guatemala was theoretically planting a shitload of trees.

  “Who’re you?” said Alvarez.

  “Her fiancé,” said Seth.

  Alvarez emitted a snort. Seth gave him a look, got one back.

  “It doesn’t look like hemp,” said Agent Peppers. “It’s white.”

  “It’s ivory,” said Tina. “That’s a color. Like sienna.”

  “You don’t need to patronize me, ma’am,” said Agent Peppers.

  “Is there a problem here?” said Marty, arriving on the scene.

  “Go away, Marty,” said Seth.

  “Who’re you?” said Alvarez.

  “I’m this woman’s attorney,” said Marty.

  “No, he’s not,” said Seth and Tina simultaneously.

  “Overruled,” said Marty. “Now, Officers, we can either do this the easy way or we can do it the . . . Hey!” Propelled by a shove from Seth, Marty stumbled back to Kevin and Big Steve.

  Seth turned back to Peppers. “Here’s the thing,” he said. “Hemp and marijuana are related, right? So maybe your dog smells the hemp and he thinks it’s marijuana, so he . . .”

  “She,” said Peppers. “Sienna’s a female.”

  “A bitch,” said Alvarez, looking at Tina.

  “An overly aggressive animal with a small brain,” said Tina, looking back. “And no ability to think for itself.”

  “Oh, Sienna’s pretty smart,” said Peppers.

  “I’m not talking about the dog,” said Tina.

  “My point,” Seth said hastily, “is that Sienna here has probably just picked up on the similarity between the hemp fibers and marijuana.”

  “Maybe so,” said Agent Peppers. “But we still have to examine the suitcase.”

  “You will not touch that suitcase,” said Tina.

  “I’m afraid we have to, ma’am,” said Peppers.

  “No you don’t,” said Tina, stepping in front of the suitcase.

  “Ma’am,” said Peppers, “if you don’t let us examine your suitcase, I’m going to have to bring the police into this.”

  “Go right ahead,” said Tina.

  Seth said, “Um, Tina, maybe that’s not a great idea.”

  She spun toward him, eyes blazing, and snapped, “Don’t you dare take their side.”

  “I’m not taking their side. I’m just saying if he calls the police . . .”

  “Let him,” said Tina. She added quietly, “I already called my father.”

  “Oh,” said Seth. Tina’s father was the only person Seth knew who owned two personal helicopters.

  As if on cue, Peppers’s phone rang. He removed it from its belt holster and said, “Hello? Yes, it is. That’s right. And who . . . Oh. Oh. Yes, sir.” He listened for about a minute, said “Yes, sir” a few more times, then reholstered the phone. His face was now the color of Hawaiian Punch.

 
; “OK,” he said to Tina. “You can go.”

  “What?” said Alvarez. “Who was that?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Alvarez. “She can’t just go.”

  Tina smiled sweetly at Alvarez.

  “Yes, she can,” said Peppers. “Come on, Sienna.” He led the dog away. Alvarez stayed a few more seconds, looking at the suitcase. Then he looked at Seth and said, “I bet you’ll look beautiful in the dress.”

  “Something for you to fantasize about,” said Seth.

  Alvarez started to say something, then turned and walked away.

  “Asshole,” said Tina, crouching to zip up the suitcase.

  Seth said, “I can’t believe the dog reacted to the dress.”

  Tina looked up. “It wasn’t the dress,” she said.

  “It wasn’t?”

  “It was Meghan’s pot. It’s under the dress.”

  “Jesus, Tina,” said Seth, looking at Meghan, who smiled sheepishly. “What the hell?”

  “She had it in her purse, but she got all paranoid that TSA would find it so she asked me to put it in my suitcase.”

  “And you did?”

  “She’s my sister, Seth. And I didn’t think there’d be drug dogs here.”

  “It’s Miami, Tina. There’s drug dogs in the preschools.”

  Tina stood. “Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

  “I guess not,” said Seth. “Thanks to your father.”

  She looked at him for a second, then said, “It’s a stupid law, OK?”

  “OK,” said Seth. In the distance he could see Alvarez looking back at him.

  The Groom Posse had drifted up; Kevin, Marty and Big Steve exchanged hugs with Tina and Meghan.

  “So,” said Tina. “You boys have big plans for Seth tonight?”

  “Big plans,” said Marty.

  “Huge plans,” said Kevin.

  “No stripper,” said Seth.

  “What?” said Kevin.

  “No stripper,” repeated Seth.

  “Then what’s the point of even getting married?” said Kevin.

  “If we’re not getting the stripper,” said Big Steve, “I want my forty dollars back.”

  “Wow,” said Meghan. “Forty whole dollars?”

  “Apiece,” said Marty.

  “Oh, forty apiece,” said Meghan. “So this will be, like, the Mercedes-Benz of strippers.”

  “Marty,” said Seth, “you swore on your mother there would be no stripper.”

  “Yes, but I hate my mother,” said Marty.

  “He has you there,” said Kevin.

  “OK!” said Tina. “Sounds like you boys have important matters to discuss. We’ve got a car waiting outside and lots to do at the hotel, and then we’ve got dinner with my parents. I’ll see you later, OK?”

  “Tina,” said Seth. “I’m not going to let them . . . I mean, it’s not gonna be . . .”

  She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Just have fun with your friends and don’t get any diseases,” she said. “And be ready for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night, OK?”

  “OK,” said Seth. She kissed him and left with her sister.

  “She’s really not threatened, is she?” said Kevin.

  “If you looked like that,” said Marty, “would you be threatened?”

  “If I looked like that,” said Kevin, “I would spend all day standing naked in front of a mirror.”

  “Hey,” said Seth.

  “OK, but I would.”

  “Let’s get the bags, grab a taxi to the hotel, start the party,” said Marty.

  “Maybe there’s a shuttle to the hotel,” said Big Steve.

  “Good point,” said Kevin. “Why don’t you look into that, weigh the pros and cons, text us your findings in the next day or so. We’ll be at the hotel.”

  “I do not want a stripper,” said Seth.

  “Absolutely not!” said Marty.

  They collected their bags and hailed a taxi van driven by a man in a bulging Rastafarian hat who radiated pot fumes and whose radio was playing a song that apparently consisted of a single extremely low note played over and over at the volume of artillery fire.

  “WE’RE GOING TO THE RITZ-CARLTON ON KEY BISCAYNE!” shouted Seth.

  The driver turned and looked at Seth, frowning.

  “DO YOU KNOW WHERE THAT IS?” shouted Seth.

  “WHAT IS?” shouted the driver.

  “THE RITZ-CARLTON HOTEL!” shouted Seth.

  “COCONUT GROVE?” shouted the driver.

  “NO, THE RITZ-CARLTON, ON KEY BISCAYNE!” shouted Seth.

  “RITZ-CARLTON HOTEL?” shouted the driver.

  “YES, ON KEY BISCAYNE!” shouted Seth. “DO YOU THINK YOU COULD TURN THE MUSIC DOWN?”

  The driver, not turning the music down, put the cab in gear and began driving.

  “Friendly chap,” said Kevin.

  “WHAT?” said Seth.

  “Never mind,” said Kevin.

  Since conversation was impossible, they all whipped out phones, put their heads down and commenced thumbing. After twenty minutes, the taxi pulled to a stop. A doorman opened the van door and said, “Welcome to the Ritz-Carlton.”

  They got out, unloaded their bags. Marty paid the driver, who pulled out of the hotel driveway, his taxi still throbbing. Seth looked around.

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “Where are we?”

  “The Ritz-Carlton,” said Kevin, pointing to a sign that said RITZ-CARLTON.

  “It looks wrong,” said Seth. He turned to the doorman and said, “Is this Key Biscayne?”

  “No,” said the doorman. “Coconut Grove.”

  “Shit,” said Seth.

  “We should’ve taken the shuttle,” said Big Steve.

  “Can you get us a cab?” Seth asked the doorman.

  “OK,” said the doorman. He stuck two fingers into his mouth and emitted a shrill whistle. From around the corner came the sound of booming bass. The same taxi rolled into the driveway, Rasta dude at the wheel.

  “I don’t believe this,” said Kevin. “Is this guy the entire Miami taxi fleet?”

  “Can we get another taxi?” Seth asked the doorman.

  The doorman whistled again, then again. No taxi appeared.

  “Not too many taxis around right now,” he said.

  Reluctantly, they got back into the taxi. The driver gave no indication that he recognized them.

  “WE WANT YOU TO TAKE US TO KEY BISCAYNE!” shouted Kevin. “OK? KEY BISCAYNE!”

  Without answering, the driver put the taxi in gear. He drove to Bayshore Drive and turned right.

  “NO!” said Seth, waving his arms. “I THINK IT’S THE OTHER WAY!” He pointed toward the back of the cab. “I THINK WE NEED TO GO THAT WAY! TO KEY BISCAYNE!”

  “I KNOW KEY BISCAYNE!” said the driver. “YOU KEEP TELLING ME KEY BISCAYNE KEY BISCAYNE KEY BISCAYNE! I KNOW THIS!”

  Seth fell back against the seat. “Fine,” he said.

  “I’ll handle this,” said Marty. “You’re the groom. Just relax, OK?”

  “OK,” said Seth.

  “DRIVER!” said Marty.

  “I KNOW,” said the driver, “KEY BISCAYNE!”

  Seth, who was developing a headache, closed his eyes and tried to relax. After about fifteen minutes, he felt the taxi slow. He opened his eyes. They were inching along in heavy traffic next to a row of hotels.

  “This is Ocean Drive,” he said.

  “I know!” said Marty. “Nice, huh?”

  “Marty, Ocean Drive on Miami Beach.”

  “Is that on the way to Key Biscayne?” said Marty.

  “No!” said Seth. He shouted to the driver, “WE WANT TO GO TO KEY BISCAYNE!”

  “I KNOW! KEY BISCAYNE! I KNOW THIS!” replied the driver, taking both hands off the wheel so he could make a gesture to indicate how irritated he was by this incessant jabber about the destination being Key Biscayne.

  Seth turned to his Posse and said
, “This guy doesn’t know how to get to Key Biscayne.”

  “But he’s a taxi driver,” said Kevin.

  “He’s a Miami taxi driver,” said Seth. He tapped the driver’s shoulder and shouted, “STOP HERE! LET US OUT!”

  “We’re getting out here?” said Big Steve. “With our suitcases?”

  “If we stay in this taxi,” said Seth, “we could wind up in Belize.”

  They got out and unloaded the luggage. They refused to pay the driver, who, after shouting something incomprehensible, slammed his door and thumped slowly away in the thick traffic.

  “OK,” said Seth. “We need to find another taxi.”

  “You think there’s more than one?” said Kevin.

  They looked down Ocean Drive, surveying the bumper-to-bumper line of tourist-driven rental cars crawling past sidewalk café tables filled with tourists drinking fruit-festooned rum drinks and watching the passing pedestrian parade of still more tourists. There were no taxis in sight. They started walking, luggage in tow, weaving their way through the maze of sidewalk tables.

  After a block and a half, they came to the Clevelander, a legendary South Beach bar bearing no resemblance to anything that has ever existed in Cleveland. On a small stage next to the packed bar a woman wearing a basically invisible bikini was writhing to inhumanly loud pounding music. Nearby, beneath a sign that said D.J. BOOGA WOOGA was a man wearing black lace-up boots and a purple thong held up by orange suspenders. He was shouting into a microphone: “LAST CALL FOR THE MISS HOT AMATEUR BOD CONTEST! LADIES, COME ON UP! FIRST PRIZE IS ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS! COME ON, LADIES! LET’S SEE WHAT YOU GOT!”

  Standing near the DJ were a dozen young women wearing garments that, if all of them were combined, might have provided enough fabric to make a sock.

  “We should stop here,” said Kevin.

  “No, we shouldn’t,” said Seth. “We need to get to the Ritz.”

  “We can’t get to the Ritz,” said Kevin. “Admit it. We tried and we failed.”