There was this moment. We are sitting at a table at this marina on key Biscayne. I have promised a pleasurable hour or two of smoked fish dip and rum runners while we watch the sun slowly set and the boats pull in after a long day of fishing. But there was a catch. There was no smoked fish dip mentioned on the menu and our waiter didn't speak English. Although this is normal for Miami, this would normally not be a problem because I can usually get by well enough. But in this instance, I couldn’t remember how to say smoked fish dip. The waiter tried to understand. I swore to him that I had sat here many many times and had smoked fish dip and drinks. It was a tradition. If only I could relay to him what I was talking about. he went to get another waiter. He didn't know what smoked fish dip was in English. He kept saying fish fingers. He called another waiter. Meantime, I'm trying to look up smoked fish dip in my pda. I know how to say smoke and I know how to say fish, but I don't know the word for dip. So I'm looking it up. so I'm trying to use the literal translation. They are all standing there in front of our table now talking to each other in Spanish and motioning to one another. I decide to get on the phone and call Infinito or G2 to ask them how do you say smoked fish dip in Spanish. Little Tree is trying to mime the act of eating smoked fish dip to them. they are all imitating her motions of dipping crackers into dip but they are still not understanding what we want. The three waiters in front of us assure me that there is no such thing. that what we really want is fish fingers. Of course, that's not what we want. We know what we want. We are at a restaurant on the water at a marina. We want smoked fish dip. But between all five of us no one can communicate this to the other. This was made more hilarious by the copious amounts of alcohol we were guzzling. Eventually we gave up and settled for some fish sandwiches. This is classic Miami.