Parramatta Yankee: South Beach Soiree, part I.

The Essex is an Art Deco masterpiece.

After a peaceful stay in Port St Lucie, FL at the beautiful home of my dad and stepmom, Aradhna and I headed to Miami to rendezvous with friends Rennu and Michael from the UK. It would be hard to find a more dramatic change of scenery without crossing state lines. Or international borders. Or interstellar orbits.

I'd booked our accommodations at the Essex Hotel (left) many months in advance, unaware that our stay coincided with Miami's annual Art Basel, described as 'the world's premier international show for modern and contemporary works'. It could also be called a mecca for pretentious, nouveau riche knobs, but beneath a magnificent Miami sky we weren't bothered.

My mom and her ex-husband lived in North Miami in the early '80s and I've got vague memories of driving down Collins Ave in the days when the Art Deco hotels of Miami Beach were full of abandoned retirees and drug addicts. To visit South Beach today is to witness one of the greatest transformations of any US city, anywhere.

Not to mention the physical transformations of the city's plastic surgery tragics, who march up and down Ocean Drive like a fake-boobed, high-cheekboned, tummy-tucked army.

We arrived at the Essex early on a Friday evening and, after Aradhna and Rennu nearly woke the dead with reunion screams, the four of us ventured to a massive, outdoor drinking emporium called the Clevelander Hotel next door.

That would become our only Miami miscue.

The only photographic proof of our Clevelander experience.

My trusted, pocket-sized Canon camera and Aradhna's shawl were swiped -- turns out the Clevelander, Miami's most profitable bar, either promotes or turns a blind eye to criminality on its premises. I take responsibility for my behaviour when drinking and was angry at myself when the camera went missing but when Aradhna said her shawl had disappeared it was clear we'd been victimised by a criminal operation, i.e., the Clevelander Hotel.

When we returned the next day to ask if our possessions had turned up we were treated like naive tourists. Security cameras are everywhere, of course, but it would have been foolish to ask for someone to check. Criminal enterprises like the Clevelander exist to protect themselves, not customers.

Live and learn. Just avoid the Clevelander -- a dodgy, criminal enterprise -- like a venereal disease.

The rest of our time in South Beach was wonderful. Here's some proof: