Social Drinking

Good behavior is not rewarded on South Beach; indeed; it is frowned upon. It carries a lot of baggage such as the notion that the perpetrator of good behavior is out to embarrass others. Good behavior is at best forgettable and most certainly boring, the greatest crime that can be committed in the shallow waters of The Beach.

Bad behavior, on the other hand, is lauded and applauded. It is as likely to assure you entry into the stratosphere of society here as it is to bar you from the lowest dive. It is difficult to differentiate between The Gutter here and The Penthouse; both are immeasurably fun and—worked with a clever hand—are a nice compliment to each other.

Drinking is the common denominator of South Beach society. “It IS The South” is one phrase heard over and over, but it is a far cry, or sip. from The Deep South. The three southern, “Blue” counties here, Palm, Broward, and Dade have enough transplanted New Yorkers and New Englanders to be known as The Sixth Borough (of New York City). The phrase that rings closest to the truth in Miami is “The further north you go, the further south you get”.

Everyone likes a good cocktail here; the only determining factor is “when” the first one is consumed. I, for one, am firmly in the bleaches of Good Society which dictates that there is no redeeming social value to drinking before 1:00PM. True, we all hear about the occasional shot of Rumplemintz in the morning cup of peppermint tea (with toast), but we don’t talk about it. That would be rude. Rather, you can set a watch to the gentle stampede to the bar at 1; the rapid click-click of squashed-heeled shoes is pure music.

If you do gather before 1:00PM you talk about the previous day’s escapade. Last Sunday Dr. Lynne and Mattie May were reminiscing about the previous day; Dr. Lynne qualified her statement by saying, “Well, what do you expect? We started drinking at 1 and didn’t stop until 11.” Mattie astoundingly replied, “At least I didn’t start until 2.” I gently smiled at his restraint as I sipped my peppermint tea.

Mondays are Biblical in the recounting of how Sunday ended. I have heard just about everything. Who did what with whom, or how this or that was lost, what was destroyed, how certain death was cheated. It’s not that all of this is important or even listened to as 1:00PM is always just around the corner. The society horses parade around Ditmar’s bar, line up at the gate, and wait for the bell. Jeremy won the Friday derby when he got out of his doctor’s appointment quickly and took up position at 11:00AM; there was no doubt he was in the race to win and win he did. By 5:00PM a First Place ribbon was being pinned on my beloved captain; no other horse even came close and Jeremy’s favorite line, “I’m not drinking anymore, but I’m not drinking any less” echoed throughout the room..

The breakfast bell just chimed; if I don’t hurry all the peppermint tea will be gone.