Just Another Day at Miami City Hall

This is post 2 in Tim's serialized novel, A Typical Day in Miami. To start from the beginning, Click here

Brian Newell turned left onto Pan American, the long formal drive to Miami City Hall. At its end, he wheeled around the traffic circle fronting the building. Media outlets from Miami’s rainbow of ethnic rivals ringed the circle. Squat SUVs sprouting antennas and satellite dishes filled its parking spaces. On air personalities in an Easter bouquet colors, wearing suits and ties, dresses and heels, guayaberas and slacks, studied cell phone screens or fanned themselves with folds of paper holding scribbled notes.

Completing the circuit, Brian swung right into an asphalt parking lot. He slowed passing a weathered white van parked in the lot’s first spot. Draped with sun bleached red, white and blue bunting — tires flattened and shredded — it settled down on rusting rims. Beside it, a squad of red, white, and blue TRUMP 2024 inflatable tube men gyrated, flailed and flopped in a manic frenzy. Behind them, six garden gnomes, in desert camo, on one knee, automatic rifles at their shoulders, fanned out in a defensive half circle. A Viet Nam War era sun-frayed US Army tent, draped with woodland netting, filled the space behind the gnomes. Leaking burlap sandbags anchored tent to ground. A Confederate Battle flag left, an American flag right, flanked the tent’s flaps.

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