i arrived here thinking itd be like a postcard from some vacation guidebook. instead, it felt like stepping into a sauna made of wet paper towels. the humidity was 88%, which means my sweat cells had to sign a non-disclosure agreement before they could escape. some local told me this place is haunted by rogue air conditioning units. they dont want to work. they just hang out in the mall because they know no one will notice. i dont know if this is true. but my shoes definitely dont.

getting around feels like running through a swamp with a backpack full of wet newspapers. buses arrive on schedule if schedule means 'never.' i rode one that played broken jazz on a qwerty keyboard for 45 minutes. the driver ate a burrito mid-ride. it smelled like regret.

quick answers

q: is this place worth visiting?
a: only if you like hearing strangers argue about the quality of tap water. otherwise, skip it.

q: is it expensive?
a: cheap if you avoid anything that says 'tourist trap' in english. expensive if you buy bottled water.

q: who would hate it here?
a: people who need to stay hydrated. also, anyone who missed their ukulele.

q: best time to visit?
a: march. before the cafecito police start merging into a single line at every gas station.

there was this spot called 'botticelli on wheels' that sold frozen lemonade. the owner, a guy named ricky, seemed to enjoy my confusion. he said, 'it’s like drinking betrayal.' i took the betrayal. it was free.

i heard from someone at a reddit thread that the best way to avoid scams is to never ask for directions. just stare until someone loses interest. which worked for me. a cab driver tried to take me to a tower made of concrete that looked like a rejected taco. i didn’t say a word. he drove me to a park instead.

another insight block: the weather feels like 25.64c but your skin thinks it’s a sauna. this is the st. louis river, right? or is it just a puddle from last week’s rain? i’m starting to think it’s both.

i found aPro tip buried in a yelp review: ‘the beach here is fine if you don’t mind walking through a sea of food stalls. but the food? it’s just ketchup water with a side of regret.’ i tried the ketchup water. it was okay.

here’s the deal: fort lauderdale is not about nature. it’s about bad decisions made by a keyboard. the palm trees are bleached from the sun like old photocopies. the people are either sunbathing or complaining about the heat. same thing, really.

last night, i stayed at a hostel that smelled like a mix of old socks and optimism. the owner, a woman named maria, told me the building was haunted by a guy who worked too hard on his tan. she said he’d appear in mirrors if you blinked at 3am. it didn’t happen. but i did see his reflection.

links
- tripadvisor: waterfront views (probably just a puddle)
- yelp: botticelli on wheels (verdict: betrayal in a cup)
- reddit: ‘avoid this beach if you have a short attention span’
- google maps: look for the st. louis river (or don’t; it’s confusing)

someone told me the locals here celebrate ‘survival mode’ as a cultural thing. i’m not sure if that’s true or if they’re just mad we all look the same after 10 minutes.

another thing: the bass isn’t this place. the bass is wherever you are. i danced in a parking lot to a song about volcanoes. no one joined. just a seagull stealing my hat. nature.

ctable insights: the humidity makes your phone sweat. your shadow follows you everywhere. the city’s grid is a maze designed by a disgruntled architect.

i stayed up until 3am talking to a palm tree. it didn’t talk back. just moved slightly. maybe it was mad. maybe it was just wet.

i’m leaving tomorrow. the weather data says it’ll still be 24.81c. i don’t care. i’ll go to a place where the air doesn’t hate me. probably a mountain. or a library. or a place with air conditioning that works.

fort lauderdale is a sticky mess of concrete and bad ac

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