Miami

I just left Miami Florida. And I'm just a tiny bit more wise.

I arrived there, earlier this morning. As usual, I rode in with style, proudly straddling the prow of the luxury cruise ship that is currently employing me to perform comedy (suckers!).

Okay...I wasn't exactly straddling the prow when we arrived. In truth I was fast asleep in my cabin. When I woke up and realized I wasn't being gently rocked back to sleep, I figured we had arrived in Miami. I got up, got out of bed, and dragged a comb across my head. Then I headed out into the moist Miami heat.

Today I had a mission. My friend, Darren, was also in Miami. Like me, he had been employed to perform comedy...on a different luxury cruise ship (not suckers, this time, though...Darren's pretty funny). ANYWAY, I whipped out my trusty cell phone, and gave him a call. We made plans to meet for lunch at...ugh...Hooters. I snapped my cell shut smartly, hailed a cab, and bid him ho to Hooters.

It was at this point that I realized that I didn't have any American Currency.

No problem, thought I. I will simply ask to be let off at the nearest ATM.

But Miami is a strange little city. It is not like Toronto, where ATM's abound, and shopkeeps stand outside their stores, begging you to spend valuable user fees at the machines that occupy their establishments. There are no towering bank buildings, seducing you into their fluorescent-lit alcoves to discretely slip in your card and frantically push in your number.

Miami is a ATM-less wasteland. There was nary a one to be seen on our journey to the restaurant.

Eventually we reached our destination...a giant mall that housed the Hooters in which my friend was waiting. I asked the cabby to wait while I enter the mall, find an ATM, get cash, and return.

He agreed with no fuss. There was no mention of keeping my wallet. He seemed quite willing to trust me...a total stranger...to return with his payment.

I will admit that, as I strolled through the shopping centre, searching for the elusive bank machine, that I harboured thoughts of double-crossing this man. It would have been a relatively simple little heist. In fact, all that would be required would be to not return to his car. I would save steps and money. I entertained the idea of committing this menial sin during my entire journey to the (finally!) ATM. I even stopped when I discovered the Hooters, and considered just going in and forgetting the driver all-together.

In the end, however, I chose to do the right thing, and I returned to the cab stand, cash in hand.

It seems that the driver suspected that I would do the same thing. He had left. For some reason, I decided to make an attempt to locate him and give him his payment. At this point it would have been easier just to shrug it off as a free cab-ride, and find my friend. But for some reason, I didn't. I found the cabby, too...at a stop sign at the end of the parking lot. I gave him his money and a healthy tip for his worry, and headed into the Hooters, feeling just a little bit like a weakling for my honesty.

I mean...really. What harm would there have been if I just took off on the guy?

At the...ugh...Hooters, Darren and I had a lovely little reunion, and a most amicable catching-up. After the meal, we made our way out of the restaurant. I decided to check the time, reaching into my pocket for my trusty cell phone...

...which wasn't there.

Yep...I had lost my cell phone. In a city that wasn't mine. In a country that wasn't mine either.

Shit.

Darren lent me his, and I made the phone call to Roger's Customer Service, where my phone was locked from making incoming calls. I then silently cursed myself for being so stupid and losing the only cell phone I had actually spent significant money purchasing...plus a reliable way to stay in touch with family and friends, while on my trip, plus all those phone numbers and personal info.

When I got back onto the ship, I went online to send an email to my family, to let them know of my predicament. There was a message from my sister in my inbox.

The cabby had found her number on my phone and called her. He was fed-exing my phone to her. She would send it to me ASAP.

There was a reason, after all, for not ducking out on a ten dollar cab fare.

And my honesty was not a giving in to any sort of weakness. It was a moment where I treated a fellow human fairly, and they did me the same service in return.

And so I'm a bit more wise as I proudly straddle to prow of my luxury cruise ship, heading out to sea.

Okay...I'm laying on my bunk in my cabin.

But I'm still a bit more wise.


Jim Out.