DailyCocaine...I Ingest, So Others Don't Have To...: Doggie Style....

I'm a big hot dog fan, and I'm also a big gambling fan. They both come together for me at Flagler Dog Track. It's the combination of dog and dog, I guess, that makes me drool. The hot dog actually lasts longer than the race (about 35 seconds), but make sure you get them to put on a fresh one. There are hot dogs that have been there, apparently, for DAYS. Flagler Dog Track is also near the Miami Jai-Alai Fronton, which for those of you who have never been, is like a step back in time. I usually hit them both in the same day on my scooter, and the ride back and forth is a trip into old Miami (I even passed my old friends at the Orale! taco truck at their new location in the Citgo on NW 27th Ave just south of 17th St.).

At the dog track, you are right in the Miami International Airport flight path, but the dogs don't seem to mind. Neither do the major skells that haunt this place (although the crowd gets less, ahem, decrepit inside the 'clubhouse'). There is also a poker room, which will remind you of Caeser's Palace, The Mirage, and no, just kidding. Although it could be somewhere in Reno, without a doubt, or any old California card room. There's a lot of rotting flesh here, and my guess is that neither the fronton nor the dog track will be missed when the slots bring the renovations and the dreary boredom of tedious gamblaholics (see Gulfstream Racetrack-what a pity that that place has become a senior's shove-hall).

The funny thing is that Flagler has an enormous parking lot that's a flea market seven days a week. They actually charge you a dollar to get in. Of course, you could find a cheap mattress, some tropical fish, produce, watches, t-shirts, hats-you know. The kind of things that are too shitty even to bother pretending aren't stolen or knock-offs, or just plain crap. For eats, I recommend the Philly steak and cheese, and that's only because you gotta eat to counteract all the alcohol you've been inhaling.

I also recommend bringing a flask. Rum perhaps, to mix with your bitter cafe con leche's. In the flea market, while you're feeling sorry for yourself, there's some great little dresses to buy for your daughter, and bicycles for the twins. Don't let your gambling habit bring you down, or break up the family. Speaking of gambling...

At the jai-alai fronton, people actually make side-bets with each other on every point, and marital disputes seem to break out, and then get settled, also, on every point. They say winning cures everything. I know this will all soon be gone, and the lazy days spent watching these archaic sports will pass into the hazy, collectively forgotten past of Miami, like all the great old Miami Jewish deli's (and all the great old Miami Jews, too, god bless 'em). And each week, a new DJ with a better eight-ball will rise up to cure us of our distinctly Miami melancholy. And we will remark how much better things are, here in the pasteurized future.