Clearing the sometimes chaotic US Immigration and Customs last night was, for once, amazingly swift. As the plane is 40 minutes early, I am in fact happily ensconced in my luxurious Aventura Limo (www.aventuralimo.com) before we are even due to have landed! I achieve this by leaving the aircraft first and then walking ahead of the hordes at a brisk trot. However, the people at the end of the queue off the Virgin flight from Heathrow would have a different tale to tell. Having waited an hour to get to immigration, they are understandably livid when the BA wheelchair cases and families with babies are given priority over them.
Having spent ages filling up the ESTA electronic visa waiver, it transpires that the technology is a bit ahead of the reality and pieces of paper still have to be completed. When I query this with the, actually very friendly, immigration officer, he tells me that he can see my electronic approval, but that the system is not yet fully implemented. God alone knows why then it's a British Airways requirement that passengers complete it in advance.
Neil Goodman of Aventura Limo has sent a rather splendid Lincoln Town car to pick me up. It certainly beats having to negotiate airport taxis and the horrors that can arise from them. I had half expected Neil to turn up in his Mini Cooper, but maybe he has had word of my accompanying baggage! My driver, Wolf, whose parents comes from Scandinavia, is not the chattiest of folk, but that may be more to do with my gathering travel weariness than him appearing to be somewhat monosyllabic.
My hotel on Miami Beach, www.theanglersresort.com, is rather splendid. But I have been allocated a room adjacent to a party being held by the general manager's wife, with an indeterminate end time. But they accept my view that a noisy party is not the best neighbour for an increasingly weary traveller and I am moved to a much quieter location. The Angler's does things in some style. My $300 room is much better equipped - and probably just as spacious, as my suite in the Grosvenor House. A very natty sound system even allows me to plug my iPod in and listen to 'From our own Correspondent' while I wash away the stresses and strains of a long journey. I have forgotten just how well Americans do showers. This is enormous, wide enough so that my fully-outstretched elbows don't even touch the walls. Mind you, I discover that mint shampoo can bring a tear to ones' eyes if allowed too close to sensitive bits!
I am invited to dinner, but the staff is, quite clearly, much more focussed on the GM's wife's party and I wait. And wait. And wait. So, I nip across the road to the Outback restaurant, have a very tasty burger that's almost up to the standard of Zak's in Norwich. By 10pm, I am in the land of nod.
At 3.30 am, I am fully awake, very bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Try as I might, jet lag has beaten me.
But there are benefits, I bring yesterday's blog up to date, sort out my luggage for the journey north and, am so ahead of myself, that able to join the joggers along Ocean Drive at 7am. I say join, but you know what I mean!
I am sure it's the very best time to see the art deco district, with the sun just coming up. I walk as far as the extraordinary house where Gianni Versace was so tragically gunned down on his own front doorstep. His killer then went on to kill the husband of Chicago socialite, Marilyn Miglin, whom I have met on a couple of occasions through my US Navy buddy, Ken Beachler.
The municipal parks' department is busy watering the flowers. Impressively, a man drives a lorry with a water tank on the back, then leaps up and points a hose pipe at the plants. Beats watering cans, for sure.
Back at the Angler's, breakfast takes an age to arrive, despite the fact I am the only early-riser waiting. When I question the delay, the girl tells me that she'll deliver my breakfast cereal at the same time as oven baked egg. Very odd. When my granola arrives, it's very tasty but the strawberries are still deep-frozen. The 'Eggs Barnard' with its creamy mushrooms and Virginia ham crisps is tasty, but, at $13 is rather a lot to pay for poached eggs in a bacon nest. Especially with potato wedges which seem to be left-overs from last night's party.
Clearly I haven't spent enough time in mid air, so another wonderful limo arrives at the hotel front door to whisk me, in rather more style than Neil's Mini Cooper, back to the airport! My driver this time is Guillermo, a Columbian. He's thrilled to bits that I can speak Spanish and we pass away the 20 minute transfer to the airport enjoying mixing our languages. He tells me that he can tell my accent is Spanish, rather than south American. I further impress him with my demonstration of Andaluz, which I describe as a Brummie version of English!
I am to have my first experience AirTran airways, an Orlando based operation that, in only 15 years, has grown to become one of the US's biggest low cost carriers, rivalling Air Berlin in size but mimicking an Easy Jet business plan. It clearly works. The Boeing 717 flight (the airline operates an all Boeing fleet) is completely full and a transiting crew member has to squeeze into the jump seat. It's nice to see that, while on the ground, passengers are welcome to visit the flight deck.
I tune into the satellite radio, which has a choice of some 200 channels. Here I am, half way between Miami and Atlanta, listening to the BBC World Service. How weird is that?
Air Tran differs from Easy Jet, in that it offers a small but real business class cabin. I have dressed appropriately, with smart shirt and trousers, but I am the only one. Jeans and trainers are the order of the day. Three passengers even wear baseball caps throughout the flight. I'd forgotten that Americans, and increasingly those people who follow that country's customs, don't remove their hats in spaces that are considered to be indoors. Complimentary alcoholic and soft drinks are served before take off and during the flight, while even passengers in the main cabin get free soft drinks. Eat your heart out Stelios!
I ask cabin crew member Kathy why my connecting flight to Pensacola appears to take only six minutes. I am amused to learn that 'you go back in time to the Panhandle', as Florida's north west is dubbed.
Kathy and I get into quite a chat when I learn that her husband was a naval aviator and was based at the US base at Rota, not far from where I live in Spain. The last time I was there was to visit a Spanish Navy friend and to see the aircraft carrier Principe de Asturias. Amazingly, she doesn't know that the King and Queen of Spain are to visit in only a few days, which may be something to do with security. I have a personal thought that President Obama might put in an appearance, with no substance whatsoever to that view. But it seems to me to be illogical that a foreign monarch whose country supported the Bush-inspired Iraqi war is visiting, and the newly elected President wouldn't pop by to say hello. Or maybe the link with Bush is one very good reason why he would NOT put in an appearance!
My new best friend, Kathy, brings me a cuppa. Fortnum and Mason tea with Walkers shortbread. Here I am at 33,000 feet, drinking English tea, nibbling Scottish shortbread and listening to the BBC. Only in America. Or , of course, in London.
Where Mrs. Manners would surely dictate that the tea should not be drunk while be-hatted?
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