I’ve always admitted to being a procrastinator, but it was to a whole ‘nother level in the lead-up to Christmas Day.
I just could not make up my mind about whether we’d stay in Cayman over the holidays, or go overseas. One minute I was putting my foot down about home, sweet home; the next, I was Googling snowy climes in the US Northwest. Was it really wise to travel anywhere that required at least one airport stop? Had I learned nothing from multiple viewings of ‘Planes, Trains and Automobiles’?
Anyway, after checking flights on a daily basis, I finally went with a happy medium: Best friend Lynne and I would go to Miami for two days, returning on Christmas Eve, and we would spend Christmas Day at home. It might seem crackers to book such a short trip, but I could not resist that December gift from Premier Juliana O’Connor-Connolly – $1,000 duty-free allowance. For once, I wouldn’t be spending the one-hour return flight with a sweaty palmful of receipts in one hand, and the customs form with tightly spaced lines on the other, trying to figure out if spoons qualified as home goods or musical instruments.
Miami immigration was a breeze (honestly, if you can apply for Global Entry, do it – that should be at the top of your New Year’s Resolutions list), and we got our rental car pretty quickly, heading out on State Road 112 towards the I-95. This is a route I drive countless times each year, and yet suddenly I lost my mind and got into the I-95 express lanes before I realised that they were going north and I needed to go south. That’s the problem with express – it’s very useful when you want to bypass heavy traffic, but lousy when you’re heading the wrong way. There are bollards separating you from the main lanes, so unless you want to risk driving over them while hoping that they’ll bend as they’re supposed to, you’re stuck until an exit presents itself. We had to wait until around exit 10, where I got out of express; pulled across four lanes in rapid succession, giving myself whiplash in the process; and happily left the Interstate to perform a U-turn so we could make our way to exit 2C.
Once again, I descended into a brief madness, and went left at the fork in the road when I should have gone right. Immediately we ended up in a part of downtown Miami I didn’t recognise at all. We eventually got to our hotel, but it was only after a battle with a labyrinth of one-way streets and drivers unimpressed with my tentative turning decisions.
Thanks to all the navigation foibles, we pulled up at the JW Marriott Marquis at least 30 minutes late, but we had no big plans so now we could relax.
Over the two days we spent in Miami, I learned some valuable lessons. Most importantly, everyone likes the Dadeland Mall around Christmastime. As soon as we pulled off the 826 state road, we hit a long line of cars, and then it was dog-eat-dog in the tiered parking lots. Everyone was watching people walking towards vehicles and yelling at them to ask if they were leaving. On typical weekends, most are willing to drive around for quite a while to find the closest space to the shop they want. On days like this, ANY spot was a gift. I actually attempted to reverse our midsize SUV into a space only suitable for a Kia Picanto, but gave up when I thought about my insurance coverage and the fact that there was no sunroof for me to climb out of.
I had dropped Lynne off outside a shop a while back, as her ‘helping’ me drive was not putting me in the Christmas spirit, so I was able to make my way through the parking levels at leisure until I got lucky and found an empty spot.
We met up at Macy’s, made our purchases, stopped at a couple of other stores, then went back to the car. It was with some difficulty that we manoeuvred our way out to a road, but we got there in the end. We decided that the mall would mark the beginning and end of our shopping adventures, and focused on dining at our favourite restaurants instead.
The rest of the trip was without incident. Miami airport was pretty quiet on Christmas Eve, no security line for the F gates (sweet mercy), and the flight left on time. When we arrived at Owen Roberts airport, we grabbed our suitcases at baggage claim, and happily sailed down the lane of ‘Nothing to Declare’.
The agent stopped us. “You sure you’re under?” he asked, taking in the sight of two trolley carts with only heads visible over the mound of bags.
“Yes, definitely!” I gaily replied.
“How long were you away?”
“Two days,” we answered, in chorus.
“Okay, I need you to go to one of the agents to take a look at your luggage and verify… ”
Tartar sauce! The first time in ages I was within my limit, but we still had to go to the red zone. After 10 minutes of receipt- and bag-checking, it was indeed confirmed that we were under our total. The glee of exiting baggage claim quickly had somewhat lessened, but we focused on the positive. No duty to pay? Ho-ho-ho… Merry Christmas! I’d be playing those spoons up a storm when we got home.
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