I came to South Florida to ride a train. Two trains, actually. It wasn't for fun. I'm not wild about the sun, heat, or urban sprawl. I hadn't been to Florida since I was a teenager, felt no need to check the box. But they built a fancy train - which I am very much enjoying at the moment - so here I am.
I've got biases. We've all got biases. I don't think it's any secret that I'm not wild about current day Republican politics. This is a very red state, so I had my guard up. I spend a lot of time in red states, but Florida - Florida's a little different. The Florida Man stereotype is probably more driven by strong public records laws that give reporters access to all kinds of insane stories. I know that. But my lizard brain was still primed for weirdness.
I'm pretty chatty when I travel stateside - Americans, contrary to Canadian tropes, are very friendly. I expected to meet some…interesting characters. Maybe not Florida Man, but at very least his annoying cousin.
Things started off as expected. I summoned an Uber to the airport and, of course, it was an SUV. The driver - a very tall blonde man - looked like he was going to launch into a sermon about some vast left-wing conspiracy. I can deal with this. I'll just stare at my phone intently and we'll sit here silently for the next 20 minutes. Nope.
The man was indeed primed for a conversation. He had that zeal in his eyes. Only, he didn't want to inform me about the woke liberal plot to destroy America. He just wanted to convince me that South Florida is the best place on earth. That's fine, I guess. I can listen to a Ron DeSantis informercial if I have to.
Then the conversation turned. Did he just say his husband? What's that accent? He's Serbian. Just adopted a kid last year after moving south from New York. This was not Florida Man. This was a very nice man, in fact. You don't know people.
So far, so good I thought. Florida Man's weird cousin has yet to emerge. But I'm Ubering around Miami. Then, it happened. Sort of. I'd just polished off a cubano sandwich in Little Havana. Very good (though not as good as I've had in San Francisco). A militarized looking Chevy Suburban pulled up, adorned with thin read line flags. Here we go.
Only, I don't think the man spoke any English. If he did, it wasn't obvious. South Florida is heavily hispanic, so this isn't unusual. Not only did he not betray any political leanings, but we didn't talk at all. I subsequently learned that the thin *red* flag is different from the blue one, which denotes support for law enforcement (often support for law enforcement acting unlawfully). It's for first responders. Maybe his brother is fire fighter. Maybe he just thinks first responders deserve more respect. Who know? I don't know the guy.
Day 3. Still not a single conversation about politics. I usually rope people in to talking politics, even if I tell myself I don't want to hear about American politics. Hadn't happened yet. Until I saw the hat. No, not the bad one. The good one. Reagan/Bush ‘84. Look, you can criticize both of those men. But people wear this hat for a very specific reason. It's an anti-MAGA statement. I knew this guy! Well, sort of. I told him I liked the hat and he gave me a welcome to the team smile. That was the extent of our political conversation, other than his older friend (or father?) chiming in when my friend and I were loudly arguing about some MAGA nonsense. He laughed it off in a gallows humour kind of way. What do you do? I don't know him, I don't know them.
Maybe we'll just laugh about all of this nonsense in a few years. I sure hope so. It's hard not to take politics personally when a third of the most powerful country in human history seems to want to burn it all down. Of course, they probably don't actually want to. But it feels that way, and for good reason. The guy they're going to vote for does want to burn it all down. At the same time, politics isn't central to most people's identity. We shouldn't make assumptions. I shouldn't make assumptions.
This is mostly just a reminder to myself. I see other people's biases at work all the time. I need to recogize my own. I don't know people - not before I meet them, anyways.
The train is lovely, by the way. More on that later.
Totally unrelated, sorry, but I like the art deco Henrosa. Did you stay there? How was it?