HIGH-RISE HOTNESS, MIAMI MANIA, EPISODE THREE
Brandon Peruses The Brickell Area Of Miami
Woof, Kids!
Welcome to the week! Go grab your juice or coffee or Redbull and let's settle in for some Monday Miami Mania. Ready?
Now, it is quite possible that you are wondering why in the heck Moolie and Brandon chugged on down to Miami on the rails instead of the jalopy. Actually, at times, they were wondering the same thing.
Nah, they, especially B, wanted to begin learning the city and an excellent way to do that is using mass-transit and your mass-feet. Plus, in theory, it seemed simple enough. Plus, plus...not taking the car is good for the planet, okay? Sounds so logical when written, so read on...
Episode Three - Miami Mania
Narrated (still) By: The Diva-Dog
Starring (uh-huh): Moolie and Brandon
Opening Scene: The doors to the lobby of the, finally found, designated high-rise in the Brickell area of downtown Miami.
Enter, Moolie (looking like something the cat wouldn't even drag in, wearing her black ensem) and Brandon (much better looking, but very steamy and drenched in long sleeves and jeans).
Kids, the partik high-rise building of interest is new construction. Actually, still-under-construction-new-construction. So, as Moolie and Brandon entered the lobby they expected to see realtor Joe chatting up trendy looking sales people. Joe would be contrite, hat-in-hand kind of thing, and he and the sales staff would, immediately, offer up ice cold beverages and a chair for sitting and chatting about the remarkable remarkableness (think I just pulled that word out of my fantasy diva-dictionary) of the building.
Of course, in accordance with the day, none of that happened in the lobby of new and trendy possible digs. Nope. Not only was joe (he no longer deserves even an upper-case j) not there, hat in hand, there were no sales staff visible...no staff, period. Not a single person roaming around, looking oh-so-busy, with the obligatory cell phone attached to ear. They were met with absolute and utter, quiet.
In hind-sight, they are now of the opinion this was a blessing-in-disguise, because Moolie and Brandon were able to sit and compose themselves, somewhat. I said, somewhat, okay? I think I may know what you hounds are thinking. Compose themselves? How would that even be possible without a shower, loads of dreamy suds and shampoos, a loofah and a completely new set of duds (talking about clothes here, NOT the people).
Well, you are pretty much right about the possibility of them being able to get all composed and ready to take a business type real estate meeting. Absolutely out of the question at this juncture.
However, they were able to cool down, both mentally and physically, and prepare themselves for...heck, who knew?
It was the strangest thing though. There they sat in the lobby, eyes flitting (don't you just love flitting eyes?) here and there, expecting to be offered assistance of some type or, quite possibly, a ride to the "downtown station" for questioning. They could have been crazed street people about to wreck havoc on the lobby and building. Wait, they were crazed street people about to wreck havoc all over Miami, so there you go.
Moolie, is a fairly patient type, no, honest. No, really. But, as they sat, feeling like the last rose of summer (it is rose, isn't it?), Moolie grabbed her phone and dialed...you can imagine...yep, Gaz. Now, exactly what she expected him to do from West Palm, who knew. I tell you, there is sometimes comfort in bringing others into your misery (it just loves company) and she was not above sinking to that lowly level. She sunk to it, right there in the lobby.
Gaz, always, always, always a man of action, was more than sympathetic to their plight. Bless him, he heeded their SOS and promised to make some calls to the building numbers listed on the Web. He would leave no stone unturned until he found someone, somewhere in the building. Well, someone willing to answer a phone.
Mutts, that Gaz, he is sumpin' else, because no sooner had he made that pledge than in strolled a human. Real and alive and everything.
Thinking to themselves, this has to be joe, they gaze upon him, expectantly. Nah, this guy, speaking French into his cell (see, told you about the cell phone thing), kept right on strolling and didn't even give them a glance or time of day. Can't say I blame him, in all honesty. Who would, if they weren't forced to do so?
Lo-and-behold, enter second guy and this time it looked truly promising. It was, sort of, neither here nor there for Brandon and Moolie, they were inside, in a chair and they were, pretty much, sticking (to their guns, not the chair). This was one of those, hell-or-high-water kinda things. They would sit there until someone, at some time, offered them the opportunity to take a peek at a unit in the building.
So, back to second guy...tall, casually dressed in light colors, he said hello to them...they rose...he heard a phone ringing in, what appeared to be an office. He left them to answer it and they sat back down. Without the slightest doubt, Moolie knew, in her wicked heart (kids, it was wicked AND hardened by now, and don't say one word about it being that way on any given day), that the telephone caller was...Gaz. She would have bet that same $100.00 that she didn't really have, but was prepared to offer the cabbie, that the high-rise guy had her guy on the line.
Momentarily, high-rise guy returned to the lobby and, indeed, he was speaking with, he-who-could-be-named-but-I-won't-even-bother-to-name-him.
I have to tell you hounds that high-rise guy had his hands full. He seemed to be running the entire operation, alone. Oh, he and the talking Frenchman would exchange little bursts of, well, French, but Frenchman didn't seem to have a role in this deal.
After a few false starts, B spills the beans on his needs and they were zipped to the elevator for the ride up to view digs on the eleventh floor.
The look/see went fairly well. The guy was nice and professional and took his time, even though he was juggling all the high-rise duties (I would say balls, but it's too early in the morning). The unit shown looked promising, the amenities excellent and Brandon and Moolie felt pleased that they had not given up on their trek to find it.
Oh, realtor joe? Never showed up at the high-rise where he was scheduled to meet Brandon and Moolie. The building guy didn't even know anything about him, but he was sympathetic when he heard what my two had been through that day. They were pretty sure they heard him mutter something about why they didn't have a car, but maybe it was just what they were thinking. He seemed much too polite to actually say, out loud, what he was, definitely, thinking.
Later, much, much later in the day Brandon noticed a few calls on his phone from joe's number. He deleted all of them.
Mutts and pups, they're not back in West Palm, so stay tuned!!
Bark at me.
Hey Diva.
Whew...I'm exhausted. Yea for Gaz. Moolies rescuer to the rescue. Gaz is the bees knees. Moolie and B should find joe and give him a piece of their minds. That is a fate worse than death.
I'm just glad they got to cool down, mentally and physically.
After this, I'm gonna have to go lie under my fan and slowly sip my water.
I can hardly wait for episode four.
High swearin' paws and nubbin' wags to all. Bitsy
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Bits,y,
Hope your Monday is going well.
Yes, Gaz the best of the best. No question.
The Diva-Dog is busy cooling the paws today as Brandon is back in Miami for the day and Moolie...well, who knows what the heck she is up to around here.
Stay with us, Bitsy and thanks for reading!!!
Fluff-o-the-tail to ya!!
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