I have a terrible sense of direction, so I was already nervous about trying to find Neal's office. See, Cirque Du Soleil was close to where he works, so the plan was for me to drive up from the Keys, meet him at his office, then we'd grab a bite and run for the Big Top.

But I couldn't find my cell phone. Then Neal realized there wouldn't be parking where he wanted me to end up, so he was a bit unsure of where to direct me.

Then I was late leaving the station, and late running around and changing and not finding my cell phone and scribbling down vague directions from Neal. We pretty much ended our conversation with, "Good Luck. I hope we find one another again before the end of our days on this Earth."

And off I went.

I popped in a mix tape from my buddy Shannon, and jammed out to everythind from Phish to Sinatra to the theme from The Greatest American Hero during my journey to Miami. (Jamie: "I never thought I could feel so free-EE-EEEE!")

This was my first time driving around Miami. I LOVE MIAMI.

Remeber, Neal and I moved here from close to Columbus, Ohio.

Here's what happens when you turn onto the wrong street in Miami.

You realize you just turned onto Almera instead of Ahlchua. You mutter "Crap," and hit the steering wheel with the heel of your hand. You make a left turn. You make another left turn. You go straight, until you're facing the street where you started. You turn onto it and are back on your merry way.

Here's what happens when you turn onto the wrong street in Columbus:

Step One
You realize you've just turned into Fourth Street instead of Fourth Avenue. You mutter "Crap," and hit the steering wheel with the heel of your hand. You see a road on your left you can use to turn around. Shit, it's one-way, the wrong way. You see another one. Nope, that's one-way, too. Fine. Next road, right? Sonofabitch. Wrong way. Repeat this 9 times, except one time it was a right-way road, but some asshole with a UPS truck is blocking your turn, so you can only stare at the road sadly as you cruise on by. By the time you find a street headed in the direction you need to go to be 1/3 the way through your required turn-around, you are 9 miles away from the road you originally turned off of, incorrectly.

Step Two
You are now driving parrallel to that road, 9 miles away. You need to turn so that you are facing the road. The first street you come to is going the wrong way. You don't start to cry yet, but utter a quiet, "Shit." The second street is the one you should have turned onto in the first place, and it, too, is running the wrong way. You start to cry, but just a little. The third street runs the right way, but your vision is impaired by tears of frustration, and you miss it. The next three are running the wrong way. The next one is the right way, and you begin a strange little ritual where you alternate between blowing your nose and shrieking for joy. You hope none of the frat boys sitting in the kiddy pool with a keg in that yard over there can see you.

Step Three
Now you have to travel 9 miles back to your orignal street. You don't remember that it's one way the wrong way till you get there. You pound on the steering wheel and silently scream curses at the Columbus city planners until the people behind you lay on the horn. You cross the original street and start looking for a way to turn back.

Repeat Steps One, Two, and Three, until you are coated in tears and snot, you've shredded three maps, your horn is broken from pounding it in frustration, and you're several years closer to retirement. Give up. Park illegally and call where you are going, begging them to find you and pick you up and pour beer into you until you're all better.

So like I said, I LOVE MIAMI.

I went up and looked around Neal's office. The view is unbelievable.

Me: "I'll bet you can see a lot of crime from up here."

Neal: "Yup."

We got some sandwiches, and while splitting a dessert, realized we were very behind and needed to get moving if we were going to make it to the circus on time. First, we go back up to his office to get the directions that Neal asked me to bring but I forgot.

Then, it was time to go.

To be continued...