Miami vice

No matter how hard they may try (and lots of them don't seem to try at all), airlines seem no longer able to inject romance into international travel.

I set off from Heathrow's Terminal 5, which is a strangely mixed-up place: a vast shopping mall with intrusive security pantomime and an oddly other-worldly feel to its cavernous waiting areas. Which at least give you a decent view of your waiting plane, ready to whisk you off to, er, Miami.

I arrived as the sun was setting and woke to a glorious view from my hotel room, over the tops of the palm trees, the boardwalk and the beach, to the sea and the wide skies beyond...

Exploring later, the sea-front is full of run-down hotels -- this one particularly struck me, and revived my fantasies of owning a motel:

The beach itself was delightfully deserted...

Although the tranquility was rather spoiled by the warning notices all along the boardwalk:

This clause in particular provided me with a strong sense of unease:

Let's end here, with typical beach-front architecture...

It's not just the airlines that fail to find the romance. Whoever thought that was an appropriate piece of architecture for the beach front?

Miami: it's not like Miami Vice nor even like Dexter. I can't work out if that's a good thing or a bad thing.