Pool or Beach? The Real Cost of Cooling Off in Miami

It is hot in Miami. Not regular hot. The kind of hot where you look at the people laid out on the sand and you honestly can’t tell if they’re tanning or if they’re sunstroke victims. Half of them are already halfway cremated. So when the question comes up, pool or beach, it’s not a cute little lifestyle debate. It’s a survival decision. Where are you going to cool off without losing your money, your peace, and your mind? I’ve done both, I’ve paid for both, and I’ve got opinions.

Why Your Boy Wants a Pool

Out here in Doral, I’ve got a house in a gated community with trees and quiet. No Brickell prison cell where you walk downstairs, look up at your building, and see unit 4621 staring back at you like a cell block. People think two palm trees planted in front of a tower means you’re connected to the earth. Nah. Real freedom is being far away from the traffic, far away from the congestion, and close to your own backyard.

And in that backyard I’ve got a grill my dad built. He was a grill master and he showed me the ways. So the dream is simple. Grill going, music low, and a pool right next to it so I can flip a steak and then dip. That’s the Miami version of a country club and you don’t need a membership.

Now somebody in the chat said an above ground pool is very New York. Okay, you got me there. But there’s a reason. My mother planted a beautiful garden back there and I’m not digging a crater through the middle of it. I’m getting older, I want to understand plants, and I’m pretty sure plants survive better when you don’t rip their roots out for a deep end. So above ground it is. A good one runs somewhere around eight to twelve hundred dollars. You pay that once. That’s the part they tell you.

The Hidden Cost of Owning a Pool

Here’s the part they don’t tell you. After you buy it, you’re married to it. You’ve got to keep the chlorine right or you come out of that water with red eyes looking like you just smoked a whole blunt. You’ve got to clean the bottom, so now you’re shopping for a pool vacuum like it’s a Dyson. And then everybody tells you, just get a pool boy.

A pool boy? Bro. I live alone. You really think I want the front gate calling me saying, “Manny, your pool boy is here”? The whole community is going to have a theory. Does he have to be shirtless? The neighbors already think comedians are up to something.

And that’s before the wildlife. Miami pools turn into a nature documentary at night. You wake up and there’s a dead lizard floating. Leaves everywhere. And God forbid it’s a mammal. You look through the drapes at three in the morning and there’s a raccoon and a possum doing things in your water that you cannot unsee. Now you’re draining the whole thing and questioning every life decision that led you to homeownership.

But I’ll be honest, there’s one pro that might outweigh all of that. If you’ve got a pool and somebody’s coming over, “bring your bikini” is the most powerful sentence in the English language. You’re eighty percent of the way to a great night just by owning water. That’s a part of my game I have yet to fully explore, and I’m open to research.

The Beach Is Free, Until It Isn’t

Now let’s talk beach. The number one argument for the beach has always been that it’s free. Not anymore. The beach will run you for your money. First you pay for parking, which in Miami Beach is basically a toll to enter paradise. Then you need water because nobody wants sunstroke. Then you sit down and realize you need shade.

I splurged one time. Two lawn chairs and an umbrella. Sixty dollars. I don’t know if that’s tourist pricing or straight up price gouging, but I paid it because your boy is luxurious. Don’t let the comedy fool you. People think comedians are out here struggling, and then they’re posting their eight a.m. office coffee like it’s a vacation. Are you sure I’m the one struggling?

So me and my date sit down in our sixty dollar setup and guess what we get. A front row seat to out of towners yapping. Yapping about pizza toppings. “Let’s just go regular pepperoni.” “No, we’re on vacation, go all out.” “Maybe we put some greens on top so we don’t feel bad.” I paid sixty dollars to hear a board meeting about a pizza. That’s not relaxation. That’s a podcast I didn’t subscribe to.

Miami’s Speaker Guy Is a Territorial Animal

And the music. Every beach in Miami has a guy with a speaker and he thinks his taste is a gift to the public. But it goes beyond the sand. I was waiting outside Limonada on South Beach, which by the way is a beautiful brunch spot, highly recommend, and they made us wait outside. I peeked in. Tables open, stools open, outdoor area open. They make you stand out there twenty minutes so people driving by think the place is packed. You ever wait in line for a club, get inside, and it’s the DJ and two people at the bar? Same energy. What was I waiting for?

So while I’m standing there, a guy walks by carrying a full DJ speaker. Not a little Bluetooth thing. A venue speaker. No cable, no battery I could see, just boom boom boom, walking proud like Rambo, except instead of a machine gun it’s a subwoofer. He looked like he’d put the speaker down just to fight you about his playlist.

Here’s what I figured out. Loud music in public is territorial. It’s not that they think you’ll love it. It’s “if you can hear this, this is my territory.” Blasting your speaker at the beach is the same thing as a dog marking every corner in a full circle around you. That’s what you’re doing with that music, bro. You’re marking the sand.

And don’t get me started on brunch. Every brunch place in South Beach has a DJ at nine in the morning. That man was at a nightclub until five. Pay him overtime. Nobody deserves overtime more than the guy spinning house music over chicken and waffles while nursing the worst hangover in Miami Dade.

So, Pool or Beach?

Here’s my verdict. The beach is the Miami postcard. It’s where you take people from out of town, it’s where the sunsets hit, and every once in a while you should go just to remember why you live here. But the beach is also parking, sixty dollar chairs, pizza debates, and a speaker guy claiming territory.

The pool is work. Chlorine, lizards, maybe a raccoon situation, and a pool boy that ruins your reputation at the front gate. But it’s yours. You walk out in a robe, the grill is going, you pick the music, and nobody is yapping about toppings.

So I’m team pool, with occasional beach visits for special occasions. Where do you land? Are you a beach loyalist who thinks pools are for people scared of the ocean, or are you ready to fight a possum for your own backyard oasis? Drop it in the comments, and come laugh about it with us live at a Miami Comedy show.