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Burnett's Urban Etiquette

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

It Was a Good Day

Just wakin' up in the morning, gotta thank God. I don't know but today seems kind of odd. No barkin' from the (neighbor's) dog. No smog...

Sound familiar? It's the first verse from Ice Cube's 1992 classic It Was a Good Day, with my minor addition (the "neighbor's" part).

Sorry about the late posting, folks. Not a lot of time to write about my adventures today, 'cause I've been busy showing my folks around Greater Miami. It's their first time visiting Florida. And being a relative newbie myself, playing tour guide took some work.

And I gotta say it's been a pleasant vacation. I ain't Ice Cube. I actually didn't see "the lights of the Goodyear Blimp (My disclaimer: It Was a Good Day contains potty mouth lyrics and describes some adult activities and one instance of what I'm sure would qualify as illegal weapons possession. But if you know the song from back in the day, then you understand the spirit in which it was delivered - to demonstrate that even in the most chaotic of settings, sometimes things just go your way)."

But it's all good anyway. Let's recount: So far my folks are digging South Florida, though they agree with me that driving is a death sport down here. My pond fish survived two days in a "shelter" in the form of a big plastic tub and are now sucking clean water in their renovated home. When the wife and I were taking the 'rents to dinner earlier this evening in downtown Hollywood, a passing car stopped behind us before I could plug the parking meter. The driver rolled down his window, smiled big, waved me over and handed me his parking meter stub, explaining it had 90 minutes left on it and he didn't want it to go to waste. A guy riding by blasting a lame tune from the guts of his hoopty, while we ate dinner outside, seemed perplexed when his music stopped suddenly. From the puzzled look on his face, I'd guess the stereo-worth-more-than-the-car conked out. Thank you divine intervention.

I was feeling so good by the time we got home, I even let my wife talk me into watching Blowout with her. And I didn't even mind Jonathan Antin yammering incessantly about how a little dab of mud'll do wonders to your hair, and babes, and "Baberaham Lincoln," and hair so bangin' it's "Bangladesh," and just having "bangin' hair, dude." Normally, I might volunteer to run into traffic before subjecting myself to that. But it was all good.

Today was like one of those fly dreams...


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