fronds of miami

It's hard to tell much about Miami by driving around its freeways in the middle of the night in a vain search for your fucking hotel, except that this city is horribly horribly hot. Even at midnight, it's like New Orleans left its sauna door open. People here must live in the permanent chill of air conditioning. Tomorrow we go to talk to a woman about a plant that almost never blooms and smells like a human corpse. It's a tourist attraction. After that, an interview about a water lily that can support 150 pounds, or one of me, on its fronds. This plant gives rise to conversations like "Where'd you put the remote control?" "I left it on the fronds". I've probably mentioned this before, but any society with jobs like mine is sliding towards a pit of dissolution fast. Dig out a vault and store your cultural artifacts now for the 1000 year terror around the corner.