Still, I never gave up hope. I knew that someday, the Force would awaken. Years later, on a bright summer day, while out in a boat on the ocean, I noticed skyscrapers beyond the coastline. I suddenly realized that while I had been mourning the loss of an American tradition in Fort Lauderdale, the Force had slowly awakened. Through the years, block by block, tall buildings had arisen from the ruins.
Downtown is alive and well.
Today, young executives with cellular phones glued to their heads walk the pavements, deftly avoiding half-clad bodies whizzing by on rollerblades, and I marvel at the excitement that throbs on the streets. Fort Lauderdale is a fun town. And this is my town. Still, the dark heart of old downtown, the grit and the gloom, never completely gave way to the sterile glass and chrome skyscrapers lining the sunny boulevard. The old heart, out of sight by day like a bawdy toddler, pulsates at night as the rhythm of the Force wraps the city as steadily as the dying sun winds its shadowy fingers across the pavements.