"Sand in my Shoes": Life in South Beach

Hi Folks! Will here. I am taking liberties with a popular song title for today's adventure. Although originally released in 1941, many covers of this romantic hit are out there. For me, it's just a throwback to the inevitable allure of beach life.

It's September of 1994. I was fresh to South Beach and freshly out of a home!! That didn't last long, as I scrambled to get the lay of the land and find a modest and affordable abode. I was working with no time cushion. My friend and travel partner from N.J. had just up and left. 

I lucked out in finding a nice simple motel with long-term rentals at the northern end of South Beach. Its layout was more like a studio apartment with plenty of room for all the stuff I had hauled down from the north. It was just a block or two from the ocean ... but, a long and healthy walk to the southern and popular end of South Beach.

A gym. This was my next box to check off of the list. We were in "Speedo Country," and nothing short of perfection would do on this beach. I was 44 and was pleased that I could still slip into my little black swimsuit without a hitch. With the help of my mile and a half walks to the gym, I really whittled off all remaining body fat. Although it was a very popular gym, I can't remember its name. What I do remember were all of the beautiful and buff members and its location at the top of Lincoln Road.

On this walk to the gym, I traversed numerous neighborhoods, most of which I assumed were gay. Frequently, curtains were drawn back and overt gestures to come on in happened on these walks. It was starting to dawn on me just how sex-crazed South Beach really was! I loved it and I fit right in making new friends straight away. The next box to be checked was finding a job.

I felt like "Lady Luck" had tapped me on the shoulder. A new resort hotel was opening just a few blocks from my motel. It was the second iteration of the famous Shore Club Hotel and Resort which originally opened in 1949. I really wasn't sure what position I was looking to fill. But, I decided to dress to the nines in a great Giorgio Armani double-breasted suit that I had acquired while working at Neiman Marcus in San Francisco.

As luck would have it, the first person to see me arrive was the food and beverage manager. Although I don't remember his name, I do remember that he bore a striking resemblance to Fred Astaire. He was also in a fashionable suit and took notice of mine. He asked me if I had any food service experience. I rattled off a litany of restaurants and mentioned that I was the head waiter at the Pines Boatel restaurant on Fire Island. He wanted to make sure that I had table side food prep experience including Caesar Salads, Crepe Suzettes and the like. I retorted back: "I just hope I don't have to wear ruffled cuff shirts with my tux, as I have been known to set them on fire!" He chuckled and said I had the job (as head waiter!).

This would have been my miracle job if the hotel's new owners hadn't overextended themselves in the redux process. The manager and I had lots of meetings to prep the waitstaff on dining room protocol. Just as things seemed to be moving along nicely, the owners ran out of money! On my third week there, I was paid in $5 bills. As my manager was counting off the fives, he told me that the owners were desperately fighting off bankruptcy. They were flat broke. My heart sank. The only bona fide shift I ever worked was slinging hamburgers, poolside, at a pre-opening party a week before the plug was pulled on the entire project. Oh well, I guess "Lady Luck's" tap on the shoulder turned into a kick in the pants! It was a good thing that I had come to town with a bit of a financial cushion. The job prospects were few and far between. So, for the time being, I decided to turn this into a long vacation and to return to New York in the Spring.

Meanwhile, here I was in an internationally famous beach resort with some of the most handsome men on the planet. You know what they say: "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade!" And, that I did. Within a week of arriving, I started seeing a very handsome and sexually crazed young man from South America. But, he made me feel old ... I just couldn't keep up with him. I soon found how transitory life in South Beach was. When I didn't fulfill his sex quota, he dropped me like a hot potato. "Next!" Yup, it was like a production line. And, not just with him. I found that to be the standard operating procedure with most of the guys I met there.

But, there were some really good times, too. Most of them were "random" sex encounters - two of which are still vividly burned into my memory 32 years later! The first went something like this ... I was walking south on the beach from my apartment toward the gay section, when a gorgeous hunk with long dark brown hair signaled me to come over to him. He was standing on the patio at the edge of his beachfront property clad in just a towel. (Sounds like the plot to a porno film, eh?) Anyway, the closer I got the more astonishing he looked. He reached out and clasped my hand with a very manly shake and invited me into his bedroom - just off this patio. It was one of the most fiery sexual encounters I have ever had. I was glad that we were both versatile, as no position was neglected in this afternoon delight!

The other over the top sexual encounter happened right on the beach! I am still trying to figure out how we got away with it! Muscular, lean and tall, I recognized this sexy, bald-headed Latino man from mags and videos. Once again, I was just "beach-combing" my way south to the gay section as he swerved from his path to cross with mine. For a second, I was spellbound. But, I came to my senses when he flashed his brilliant smile. I responded in kind. I don't remember how, but seconds later we were both naked and rolling around on his beach blanket under a palm tree. We were just yards away from the surf and definitely within view of anyone walking by. Again, it was quick and intense with no specific roles taken. We kissed and said goodbye without any intentions of a rematch. Ah ... this was life at the beach. 

Of course, club life at the beach was both famous and infamous. After all, how could you have this many gay men together and have it turn out any other way? This deserves its own review. So, stay tuned!