The Hidden Oasis

I spent this long weekend at a guesthouse in Wilton Manors; a staycation if you will. K and I were going to make a trip to bookend the end of my sabbatical and a job well done for Kareem's accomplishments, but between the gout attack and his work not stopping, K found a vacation rental on Airbnb with a pool and a hot tub, and our friend Royce flew down from Chicago.

The house we stayed in was kinda cute in a beachy, generic white married couple on Pinterest sort of way. Piece of wood painted "It's 5 o'clock somewhere?" Check! Wicker starfish accessories? Got em. It had all the necessities for a self-proclaimed "Hidden Oasis" clearly owned by an older wealthy gay Canadian couple, with the pool, a hot tub, rainbow hammock, and shitty plasma television with a million Xfinity channels but no Roku stick for Netflix.

Wilton Manors may only be a twenty-minute drive away from Miami, but culturally it may as well be a million miles away. It's the gay ghetto of Fort Lauderdale; imagine The Cast…