Glow with the Tide. Gaili, did you see, who it was?

 I woke up to pure confusion.

Sometime during the night - specifically at 1:30 a.m. - our Uber driver had sent me approximately ten increasingly concerned messages saying he had arrived and could not find us. Which made perfect sense, because our actual plan was to go to the port at 1:30 p.m. Apparently, the app and the driver were living in a different timeline altogether. I cancelled that reality, made a new booking, and went back to sleep slightly wiser.

The morning, thankfully, was much calmer. I went for a run on the beach, because this is apparently who I become near the ocean, while we later strolled along Oceanview Drive. Scott enjoyed a hot dog, I enjoyed my peppermint moccha, and we observed Miami waking up. Overnight, a luxury car show had appeared out of nowhere - because of course it had. At the same spot sits a café in front of which scenes from Miami Vice were once filmed, adding just the right amount of cinematic nostalgia to our caffeine intake.

At some point, the internet began throwing out warnings: what is normally a 20-minute drive to the port could take up to 45 minutes today. Eleven cruise ships will do that to a city. We took the hint, ordered an Uber earlier than planned, and embarked on what turned out to be a 55-minute journey to cover just 20 kilometers. Miami traffic was clearly in its final boss phase.

Eventually, we arrived. After a bit of queuing and administrative wandering, we reached our cabin - only to discover that our “sea view” came courtesy of a lifeboat parked directly in front of our balcony. The ocean was technically there, just… filtered through emergency equipment. We politely visited the information desk and asked if a change might be possible. Miracle of miracles, it was. We were upgraded two floors higher and repositioned from the very back to the middle of the ship. Actual sea view restored.

From there, things escalated quickly in the best way. We ate, explored the ship, and were feeling quite pleased with life when, on our way back to the cabin, we casually ran into Sir Richard Branson. As one does. It turned out he was staying two cabins away from us, and outside his door stood eight young women already waiting for selfies. We walked past Sir Branson, only for Scott to loudly shout across the ship: “Gaili, DID YOU SEE WHO THAT WAS?” Subtlety was not in the cards today.

By 9:15 p.m., we were asleep.