When I was a kid, I loved going to Miami. My grandmother had an apartment on Brickell Avenue which overlooked the water and all the other high-rise condos, and we’d go with my mother into Key Biscayne for lunch to see where they used to live. It was inevitably hot as hell, and my grandmother wouldn’t always make the most politically-correct comments–in that cringey, IDGAF-way that old people have–but being with family in the place my mother grew up felt so special.
Lo and behold, Erik is from Miami, too! Since we’re such a baby relationship (feels weird to remember that, since I feel like we’ve been with each other for decades), our trip there this summer was our first time visiting together. While planning our South Florida stay, there was one hotel he mentioned over and over: The Biltmore.