Goodbye, Sheraton Bal Harbour
It's the end of an era: The Sheraton Bal Harbour is being demolished. Beloved Morris Lapidus, another iconic designer betrayed. There's a liquidation sale going on, if you have not already heard. It's like going to the biggest yard sale ever, plus it's kind of spooky.
The carpet is torn up in the Grand Ballroom, there was a crew taking down the crystal chandelier, piece by piece. Everywhere you look there is furniture stacked. Desks, chairs, ottomans, random wicker chests.
Everything is for sale - even the "No Diving" sign. Priced at $110 but you could probably get it for less, they're slashing prices now.
The lagoon-style pool is drained and nature is reclaiming its territory. The cheerful yellow and white-striped cabanas are for sale - marked down to $200 from $650. But you have to dismantle and haul it away yourself. As a result you see a lot of handyman-type guys walking around with tool chests. Even if something is nailed down, you can buy it.
Throughout the grounds there are signs of the Sheraton's past. Old photos of meeting rooms and banguet halls were strewn on the ground by the pool.
We ventured up to the penthouse floor, to check out the view that Clinton once enjoyed. The presidential suite is picked clean; there were guys taking down the doors and light fixtures.
On the balcony we found the discarded red letters of the Sheraton sign. We debated buying them. What can you spell with S-H-E-R-A-T-O-N?
"Shear Not,"Tear Nosh" "Heart Son." But in the end we decided to leave the letters on the blacony, their final resting place.