What some media write up as a match between two coaching brothers, others describe as a match between two programs—sports or the popular Downton Abbey on PBS. On the home front, one of my childhood friends in Virginia (a Downton Abbey fan) emails me, “No Beyonce in this house. ” Then my daughter texts to ask if I realize I will be visiting South Beach on Super Bowl Sunday.
But I go to South Beach (Miami) anyway. I plan to sit through the first half of the game then leave in time to watch Downton Abbey in my hotel.
We walk to Ocean Drive. Surprise, no aggressive restaurant hostesses promote lunch-dinner or drink specials. Big screen TVs blare from café terraces. Crowds pack the tables. One or two restaurants make an effort to attract the non-bowl tourists, by playing music or having a guitarist. The Clevelander, which wraps around a corner on Ocean Drive, has standing room only (beer from the bar at $9 and from the bathing suit-clad hostess, $6). With all the people and noise, is anyone actually watching the game? Will they notice if I change channels?
Although I plan to watch the Super Bowl with my daughter and her boyfriend until halftime (really!) , I leave after a few minutes and head for Lincoln Road, which has few pedestrians and diners on this beautiful Sunday evening.
At DeLuca’s, where one of the owner’s explains it is not a “sports bar,” I try a pinot grigio (Torre di Luna) along with bruschetta. When the owner offers me another glass, I decline. After all, I must make it back for Downton Abbey.
Maybe next year. . .
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