Sometimes you just want to kill everyone in Miami. The traffic, the sweating, the general idiocy.Cool down there, chief. You need to get your ass to Monty's. Enjoy a quiet beer on the water's edge. Stare out past the marina and watch the ships go by. Contemplate the vastness of the ocean and the insignificance of your worries.Or order a bucket load of margaritas and a half-dozen oysters, get yourself good and drunk, and giggle at the people getting their scuba certification in the swimming pool. They look like little seals!Soak up the sweet abandon of faux island tunes being pounded out on the keyboard by the guy in the Hawaiian shirt. No need to get angry. Life is but a Jimmy Buffett song.