"You can't just not go to Miami if you're in Florida" (c)

Joyful after magical Orlando and fully confident that I had a place to stay, I arrived at the bus station and said goodbye to the receptionist. And then I realized that I didn't have his brother's address, only a phone number that wasn't being answered. Apparently, I thought, I'm not that lucky. And I promised myself to find accommodation in Washington as soon as I had the chance.

Getting on the bus from Orlando to Miami, I was taken aback: it was full. Almost full—there was only one seat next to a suspicious man in a dirty t-shirt and with an unkempt beard, where no one was sitting. I had to sit down.

We started talking. Then we started playing chess on his phone. Then he started showing photos of his children, grandchildren, wife, house, cars, and motorcycles. Yes, he was by no means a vagrant, but a man with 3 cars, 4 motorcycles, a wife, children, grandchildren, and his own house. Looks are deceiving)

When we started talking about me, I said that I was a student, had worked all summer in the States, and was now traveling, but I had nowhere to stay in Miami; and I immediately asked if I could stay with them? I immediately added that I was ready to pay them $20 a day. He called his wife and sent her my photo, after which permission to stay was granted)

Tip: Don't be shy to ask for help and don't be afraid to offer it.

This man turned out to be a former military man. Huge knives, machetes, crossbows, rifles, bows, arrows, a Colt Python, revolvers, a heavy Desert Eagle, bullets—half of this was hanging on the wall, half was hidden in his closet, and a bow was lying in the backyard, which I took advantage of.

I immediately found myself accommodation in Washington so as not to bother random people on the bus.

Honestly, I didn't go to those famous pretentious clubs. And it's a shame I didn't manage to go alligator hunting. But not going to Miami Beach would have been a crime!

Yes, if you don't know, the de facto main language in Florida is Spanish: very, very, very many Spanish speakers don't know English and don't understand why they should learn it—everyone speaks their language anyway. Even announcements at the Miami airport and at the Greyhound station sound first in Spanish, and only then in English.

In my presence, a Mexican woman approached a salesperson, started saying something quickly, the saleswoman replied that she didn't speak Spanish, and the Mexican woman started a scandal and called the manager. Such are the things.

Maybe I had been on the beaches of South Carolina for too long, maybe the Harry Potter park was still playing in my head—but I didn't feel any special joy from the snow-white sand of Miami. A sunny city, a beautiful sandy beach, an absolutely empty downtown—all this needs to be seen, but I don't see the point in staying here for more than 3-4 days. Therefore, as soon as Wednesday came, I paid for the gas for the couple who took me in and left for Washington.