Kick Ass: Selected Columns of Carl Hiaasen

by Carl Hiaasen

  • Meanwhile, a new group of international narco-assassins—these from Jamaica—has relocated its headquarters in Dade and Broward counties, where it's easy to get parts and servicing for their MAC- ids.

  • To ensure that our Dodge City reputation never ebbs, many South Florida legislators backed a new state gun law that enables practically any glassy-eyed psychopath to arm himself on a whim.

  • And, oh yes, the state attorney general recently was asked to give an opinion on whether animal sacrifices were permissible in Hialeah.

  Image problem? What image problem? How could the Times suggest such a thing?

  Face it, things get bizarre in these latitudes. Consequently, every magazine that strives for hipness has taken a crack at Miami—Esquire, Vogue, the Village Voice, the New York Review of Books, the New Yorker, and there will be more. Writers come down here because it's interesting, in the best and worst sense.

  By now you'd think the Civic Pillars would have the brains to shrug it off, but no. The county manager, who had not yet read the Times article, boldly announced that "we're going to take a public stand." (Quick—call the networks. A public stand!)

  Then, two days before the magazine actually appeared, an emergency meeting was convened at the Grand Bay Hotel to plot counterpublicity.

  The session was closed to the public, so God only knows what was dreamed up. Perhaps it was a list of alternative headlines for submission to the Times corrections department: "Miami—We're Doing Our Best, So Lay Off!" Or: "A City Beset By Snotty Press Articles." Something mature like that.

  In critiquing the Times' presentation, it should be noted that the magazine used a photograph of a mock drug bust staged by U.S. Customs. This was undeniably sloppy, but would a picture of the real thing have made the Chamber of Commerce any happier? Probably not.

  The publicized summit at the Grand Bay Hotel accomplished at least one thing: It sold a heap of Sunday newspapers for the New York Times. If I were Publisher Sulzberger, I'd send citrus-scented thank-you notes to the whole Beacon Council.

  For the record, Bob Sherrill's article does not portray Dade County as the sludge pit of the universe, so take your medicine and calm down. There's nothing wrong with civic pride, but civic panic is embarrassing.

  Newsweek story glitz-wraps same old city

  January 20, 1988

  You probably noticed the restraint with which this paper greeted the current Newsweek cover story, bannering it across the front page like a new Soviet arms treaty. The reason is simple: Anytime anyone anywhere says anything nice about Dade County, it's front-page news.

  Still shell-shocked from last summer's New York Times profile, local tourism honchos had huddled heavily sedated in underground bunkers to await the Newsweek piece, predictably titled: "Miami—America's Casablanca."

  After a quick review, the boosters proclaimed the portrait to be darned near positive, and called off plans to mewl, sulk and fly to New York in protest.

  The fact is, the content of the Newsweek story is not much different from what stirred up a storm last July in the Times. The real difference is the tropical caption and the pretty pictures.

  Let's begin with the cover: There's the glorious new skyline (photographed at such a distance where you can't see all the vacant office space), set behind a tranquil Miami River (photographed at such an angle that the water somehow appears blue) .

  And no wonder everybody's celebrating! In three years this is the first nationally published picture of the Miami River that did not feature dead drug dealers on the end of a coroner's gaff.

  Most of the other Newsweek photography is equally flattering—more skyline, a sunset, the Fontainebleau Hilton, a parade through Little Havana. As for dramatic photos of cocaine busts, there's just one teensy-weensy shot of a crack arrest. Big deal.

  By contrast, the text itself mentions the C word no less than 12 times, including this passage: "You cannot understand Miami without under-standing cocaine, either. Miami is supersaturated with cocaine and cocaine money."

  Whoa there, Beacon Council, no need to panic. The very next sentence puts an upbeat spin on the drug climate: "The point many tourists over-look, however, is that the core of Miami's cocaine problem is on the wholesale, not retail level."

  So bring the kiddies on down!

  Any national story about Dade County must also be rated by the PAN factor—the ratio of positive to negative adjectives. My friend Tom Morganthau, who wrote the main Newsweek story, obviously plundered Roget's in search of superlatives.

  At one point he calls Miami an "almost lunatic concatenation of ethnicity, glitz and restless energy." Since Tom is one of only three persons in the whole universe who know what "concatenation" means, he might be forced to defend himself solely on the "lunatic" issue.

  A sample of the positive adjectives used to depict Dade County include "unique," "bustling," "prosperous," "newfangled," "proud," "jazzy," "cocky," "mellow," "multicultural," "exciting," "exotic" and "sensuous."

  The only thoroughly negative adjective: "dangerous."

  Unfortunately, according to the South Florida PAN factor, one lousy "dangerous" in a big magazine article wipes out "unique" and "bustling" and even "exciting"—but that still leaves "exotic" and "sensuous."

  Which brings up this Casablanca business.

  Miami is everything Newsweek says it is, but if I read one more story calling it America's Casablanca, I'm going to start a petition drive.

  In fact, Miami is not at all like Casablanca. For one thing, the handgun laws are much tougher there.

  Despite the glow, Newsweek did not overlook our poverty, discrimination, culture clashes or crime. While noting a decline in the homicide rate, the magazine observed that "no sane Dade County resident leaves his door unlocked."

  Though true, this comment will not inspire cartwheels among our local image shepherds, nor will the sub-headline characterizing Miami as a "city of wheelers, dealers and refugees."

  That's the bad news.

  The good news is, they put in a map.

  Super Bowl boosters in taxi tizzy

  November 21, 1988

  Pre-Super Bowl panic has already set in among the custodians of Miami's national image. The first targets of reform are taxi drivers, who are being coached, cajoled and strong-armed into a show of manners.

  The dread of tourism officials is that a vulnerable visitor (and we all know how sensitive football fans can be) might encounter a gruff or opportunistic cabbie.

  In truth, the odds of this happening are no greater than that of being gouged for a hotel room, gouged for game tickets, gouged for lousy food and, finally, gouged for dopey souvenirs such as official Super Bowl ashtrays and official Super Bowl kazoos.

  Which is to say that the prime mission of Super Bowl Week is to separate the tourist from as much of his money as can be pried from his pale little paws.

  It is demonstrably easier to accomplish this gentle larceny if one is courteous to the victim during the act. Thus, the urgency of the Miami Nice campaign.

  If you wondered why no special courtesy classes for taxi drivers are held in the off-season, the answer is simple: There's no reason to impress the locals.

  If you live here and have to call a cab, it's probably because your car was stolen, the bus broke down, you're miles from the Metrorail and you desperately need to get away from some place (say, the scene of a major felony). At this point, you don't really care whether the taxi driver is nice or not, as long as he knows the accelerator from the brake.

  As any airport traveler can attest, Dade County has some excellent cabbies, and it also has some cretinous loons. With the Super Bowl blitz bearing down on us, the Metro Commission is considering a schedule of fines to penalize taxi drivers for sins against tourists.

  These are absolutely real:

  • $50 for failure to maintain neat appearance!

  • $200 for smoking without the customer's permission.

  • $200 for soliciting tips.

&n
bsp; • $200 for abusive language.

  • $50 if the cab has a broken air conditioner.

  • $50 for a dirty trunk.

  • $200 for taking the longest route in order to hike up the fare.

  • (my personal favorite) $200 if the driver is carrying a deadly weapon.

  Currently, taxi industry officials are negotiating the amounts of these fines with the Metro staff. The preliminary plan is all right, as far as it goes. However, the commission needs to expand the list of fines to include other possible taxi-tourist confrontations:

  • $200 for charging passengers "per kilo" of luggage.

  • $150 for having a body in the trunk.

  • $75 for soliciting tips with a deadly weapon.

  • $200 for abusing customers in two or more languages.

  • $100 for taking the "Homestead By-Pass" to Miami Beach.

  • $50 for cleaning livestock on the dashboard without the passenger's permission.

  • $75 for asking the customer to give you a back rub and a quick pedicure.

  • $50 for hanging more than one soiled undershirt from the antenna.

  • $100 for forcing riders to stand up in the back seat so you can "play Popemobile" along Biscayne Boulevard.

  • $ 150 for bragging to passengers about the results of your latest urinalysis.

  • $75 for failure to scrape slow-footed windshield washers off your grille.

  The civil penalties suggested by Metro sound tough, but they won't make our streets any nicer. No sane tourist is going to hang around South Florida long enough (or return at a later date) to testify against a rude cabbie—especially a rude cabbie who carries a gun.

  Besides, smart taxi drivers know that they don't have to fleece out-of-town passengers or hustle big tips to make a fortune during Super Bowl Week.

  All they've got to do is pick up their customer on game day and head out to Joe Robbie Stadium. It's a gold mine, stuck in that wretched quagmire of traffic, watching the meter run and run and run.

  Sometimes, dolphins get wrong idea

  February 9, 1990

  Add this to the list of bizarre things that South Florida tourists can worry about: getting goosed by Flipper.

  Strange but true. It has happened at Florida Keys attractions where customers are allowed to get into the water with captive bottlenose dolphins. Usually the dolphins are well-behaved, but occasionally adult males become sexually aroused and make their intentions known.

  This is one reason that Florida's Department of Natural Resources has recommended banning swim-with-the-dolphin programs. In a controversial report to the National Marine Fisheries Service, the DNR says that closing the swim shows will prevent injuries to humans, protect the dolphins from catching human diseases and discourage the taking of the marine mammals from the wild.

  Operators of Florida's three attractions—Dolphin Plus in Key Largo, Theater of the Sea in Islamorada and the Dolphin Research Center on Grassy Key—say the swim programs are educational and harmless.

  They are also profitable. Theater of the Sea charges $50 to swim with the dolphins. For another $50 you can buy a videotape of your dolphin encounter.

  If you're not careful, that video could be rated X.

  Alan Huff of the state marine lab in St. Petersburg says there are no reliable statistics about "negative incidents" at the dolphin parks, but adds: "We do know that older male dolphins become less trainable and exhibit behavior that is undesirable for a swim program." This includes physical aggression as well as sexual overtures.

  A Miami legal secretary who was recently accosted said trainers had warned her of the possibility. In the dolphin mating ritual, it's known as an "erection roll." The male flips the female over and … well, you can guess the rest.

  Soon after entering the water, the secretary noticed that one of the dolphins was rubbing against her in an unmistakably amorous way. "He liked me a lot," she recalled. Suddenly the animal spun her in the water and swam across her back.

  "The guy's yelling, 'Roll with it! Roll with it!' I'm going, 'What the hell's going on? Get him away from me!' I was really scared." It's not easy to say no to 700 pounds of tumescent porpoise.

  The swim shows in the Keys forbid customers from grabbing or bothering the dolphins, but sometimes the animals get ideas of their own. They can be aloof, or extremely sociable.

  Some animal rights advocates say the mammals are being exploited, which is nothing new. Porpoise shows have been a staple of Florida tourism for decades. Is swimming with a tourist any worse than jumping through a Hula Hoop for a hunk of dead mullet? Probably not.

  What's more, doctors have reported great progress among disabled and retarded children who've been allowed to interact with the Keys porpoises.

  Getting in the water with these magnificent animals is a thrill, but usually more for the humans than the dolphins. If you were to jump into Biscayne Bay near a wild school, it would most likely head for Bimini. Porpoises remain far less fascinated by us than we are by them.

  While there are only four dolphin swim attractions in the country, some experts fear they will proliferate because of the money. Imagine the disaster if every tacky oceanside motel decided to buy a Flipper and invite tourists in for $50 a dip. Fortunately, regulations on the capture and display of marine mammals are fairly strict.

  Within a few weeks, the U.S. government will decide what to do about the swim programs. Many feel the DNR's position is too harsh.

  For example, Dr. Gregory Bossart, a veterinary pathologist at the Miami Seaquarium, says there is no evidence that diseases can be easily transmitted between dolphins and humans. But he also believes that swim programs must be rigidly controlled and each dolphin carefully selected for participation.

  "Some are real friendly, some aren't," he says. "Personally, I would be hesitant about getting in the water with some of the male dolphins I know."

  Will we end up swallowing this new tax?

  April 2, 1990

  Everything you need to know about the latest version of Metro's proposed 2 percent food-and-beverage tax:

  Q. Where does the money go?

  A. The estimated $3.5 million in annual revenue will go to tourism.

  Q. Wait a second. Wasn't part of the tax supposed to pay for a new drug treatment center, and economic redevelopment in the black community?

  A. You're thinking of the old tax, the one they screwed up last time. The new tax is just for the tourism industry.

  Q. Why do we need a tax to promote that?

  A. The Greater Miami Convention and Visitors Bureau says the money is necessary to finance a national advertising campaign to attract more tourists to South Florida ...

  Q. Wait a second. The convention bureau—isn't that the same bunch who spent $^00,000 moving into lavish new offices?

  A. Well, yeah—

  Q. The same bunch who spent $270,000 on a fish-tank display at a travel convention in Budapest?

  A. Hey, it was a very impressive fish tank—

  Q. The same bunch who was literally going broke this time last year, borrowing $ i million to cover their red ink? And the top guy, George Kirkland—wasn't he the one who charged the bureau for $i,ooo-a-night hotel rooms in Europe?

  A. Yeah, but—

  Q. Well, no wonder they need the dough.

  A. Hold on, now. Mr. Kirkland recently left to take another job ...

  Q. What—gone already? Boy, he really fell head-over-heels in love with Miami, huh?

  A. The point is, it's a new day with bold new leadership. The tourism people say we need this tax money to promote South Florida in a competitive national market.

  Q. What's the big problem with our image?

  A. Oh, the usual. Crime, drugs, poverty, corruption, chronic racial and ethnic tensions. Noth/ng that a catchy new slogan won't obscure.

  Q. Other big cities such as New York and Chicago have similar social problems. How do these places attract so many tourists?

  A. One word: sophisti
cation. For example, in other major cities, civic leaders rarely have their semiautomatic assault rifles stolen from their bedrooms. Also, they tend not to name public streets after cocaine dealers. In Dade County, such recurring incidents have created an undesirable kind of national publicity.

  Q. Say the tax passes. What if they waste the money on some really goofy advertising campaign, like: "Come to Miami! Sun, Surf—and DEA on Every Corner!"

  A. Hey, that's not half-bad. Let me get a pencil.

  Q. Seriously, how do we know they aren't going to spend the $3.5 million on more fish tanks in Budapest?

  A. Don't worry. They'd never take a great idea like that and beat it into the ground.

  Q. So, how does this new food tax differ from all the others that were proposed?

  A. Apparently somebody's actually read this one.

  Q. What businesses will be affected by the tax?

  A. The new tax should apply only to hotels and motels, though you can never be sure. Last time we were told that only large restaurants would be affected, when in fact all establishments with liquor licenses would have been taxed.

  Q. How did such a monumental fiasco happen?

  A. No one seems to know. The Metro commissioners say they were never told precisely what the food tax would do. The lobbyists who were paid big bucks to push for the tax said they were too darn busy to examine it closely. Meanwhile the county attorney swears that he knew what it said all along, but no one ever asked him to explain—

  Q. Whoa, back up. Do you mean to say that these geniuses were going to vote on a tax they didn't even understand?

  A. That's about the size of it.

  Q. So, how do we know they aren't pulling the same stunt again?

  A. Hmmmm. That's a good question.

  Q.Well?

  A. I'm thinking, I'm thinking.

  Santeria ritual not quite to tourists' tastes

  April 5, 1991

  On a recent drug raid in Northwest Dade, police discovered the messy remains of chickens, turtles and a headless goat. "I don't know what all this represents," mused a police spokesman, "but I know it's alarming."