High schoolers
Sarah and I have finally made it to our destination - the park. We got up earlier than most of the people in the bachelorette house, and decided to make the most of our early rise with a nice morning walk. I had looked up areas 1- 2 miles away from the AirBnb earlier, scouting out a large park along the water. It was a bit questionable to get to - turns out the nicer neighborhoods were south, not north - but we’ve made it.
Sarah’s an urban planner, so her development hat was immediately on.
“Wow, look, they’re expanding!” She looks out to the water, which is mostly blocked by a large mesh fence.
“Hm, yeah, bummer,” I say, pointing south. “Let’s still walk through and head back southwest. It’s too bad we’re not really going to get ocean views.”
She nods in agreement. We’re both of the same mindset - it’s just nice to be here. Miami is great this time of year, especially compared to Chicago and Seattle, and even more especially since it’s 8am. It’s warm, not hot, and most of the people we’ve seen are cute couples with dogs.
We head down the park path quietly, each of us taking in our surroundings. After a couple minutes, Sarah says, “Guess you gotta get here early for a picnic table.”
I’ve been noticing the same thing. Despite it being not even 8:30 in the morning, plenty of people are already trickling in to grab one of the coveted shaded picnic tables. Weirdly, there aren’t many adults. Maybe the parents send the kids on early. But hang on a second…
“Isn’t it Friday??” I turn to her as we take notice of yet another group of 4 high-school-age-looking-kids lays claim over a shady table.
“Huh!” is her response.
We keep walking.
“I think this is where we have to exit.” I point to where a very large crowd of young people is jostling, trying to get into the seemingly single park entrance.
We walk closer.
“I think… these are all high schoolers,” Sarah says. Sure enough, I can only pick out a couple humans that I would say are above the age of 17, and the adults look stressed. They look sweaty. They look… like chaperones. All of the high schoolers are in varied shades of black and grey. There are lots of piercings and combat boots and leather attire and not many smiles, despite the perfect weather
“It’s interesting that we’re able to run into this!” Sarah says, ever optimistic. “I love that we’re getting a view into what a Miami high schooler looks like.”
“For sure,” I agree. “These are kids that are born and raised here. Definitely different than an Atlanta suburb or suburban Connecticut.” (Sarah grew up outside Atlanta.)
We throw out a couple “excuse me, sorry!”s as we reach the gate, pushing through the dark-clad, slightly smelly group until we’re back on the neighborhood streets of Miami.
We’ve lapsed into other conversation by the time we reach the neighborhood gate attendant. “You two are definitely not here for the high school field trip!” He laughs as he pushes a button to raise the gate.
“Oh!” I say, “A field trip!! We were wondering!”
“Ah, yes. I forget about it every year until it’s upon us. The art high school down the street does it annually, they block off the whole park, you’re lucky you snuck in on time!”
Art high school! Sarah and I look at each other.
We wait until we’re out of ear shot before she exclaims, “OKAY everything is making more sense now! Art high school! So not all kids in Miami are slightly emo!”
I laugh, grateful that she’d been thinking the same thing. “Even if we didn’t get to see the water, at least we got to see a Miami art institute high school field trip.”
“I see the ocean plenty,” Sarah agrees. “That?? Not so much.”
I’m glad Sar and I passed that very kind, chatty gate attendant so we don’t both leave Miami in a couple days thinking that all high schoolers here have a dramatic tendency towards combat boots and septum rings.
