Whiplash

Monday morning I woke up to snow-capped mountains in the Beagle Channel.

24 hours and three flights later, I was dragging luggage through the deserted Miami airport. My flight landed at 4:30 am, which ought to be illegal, and it was dark and drizzly all day, which added to my sense of disorientation. Where am I again? Oh, right, for some reason, I'm in Miami.

I went for a walk and found a cafe with excellent huevos rancheros, but after that I just watched TV in my room and counted down the hours until I could decently go to bed.

Just before sunset, the skies cleared and I got my first look at the Miami skyline across Biscayne Bay. That's better, I thought, and was asleep within minutes.