Some of my best trips happen spontaneously.

I was working in my home office when my phone pinged. It was Nick—“Mr. Fixit,” who I recently met in Key West. His guest for a charity event in Palm Beach had canceled, leaving him with an extra invitation to a black-tie cocktail cruise on the Intracoastal.

Palm Beach After Dark

Nick picked me up at the hotel around 8:30. The yacht wasn’t a floating palace owned by a mysterious billionaire — just one of the charter boats that glide up and down the Intracoastal.

Soft music. Servers with trays of tiny appetizers. Cocktails. The lights of Palm Beach shimmered across the water.

It was sophisticated, with just the right blend of elegance, charm, and coastal ease.

Rooftop Respite

It was close to 11 when Nick dropped me at the hotel. It had been a memorable evening, filled with engaging conversations and the opportunity to meet several local artists.

In the lobby, I headed for the elevator. Instead of pressing my floor, I decided to venture up to the rooftop bar to see the nighttime view I’d heard so much about.

My bartender, Marisol, set a chilled Chardonnay in front of me and smiled. “That dress really makes your blue eyes pop.” 

We chatted. She asked if I was in town for the weekend. I asked for Sunday suggestions. By the time I finished my wine, I had the beginnings of a plan.

Sunday Off Leash

Sunday morning started at the Society of the Four Arts—gardens, shaded paths, and quiet corners—before I eventually wandered toward Worth Avenue.

Palm Beach has a reputation for wealth and glamour, but it was the architecture, flowers, hidden vias, and tucked-away galleries that made me stop and wander back for another look.

This is what I love about traveling alone: Nobody is waiting. Nobody is asking when we’re leaving. Nobody cares if I spend ten minutes photographing a doorway.

I can turn left simply because something looks interesting.

Which is how I eventually spotted a cat café.

There was no universe in which I was walking past a room full of cats.

Chaos at the Café

The feral little felines had ignored me completely until they caught a whiff of chicken. Suddenly, I was the most popular woman in Palm Beach.

As I reached the last few bites of my sandwich, one cat approached. Another noticed the first cat and apparently decided he was missing out on something important.

He jumped onto the table.

The iced tea never stood a chance.

The entire glass tipped directly into my lap. Not a splash. Not a few discreet droplets. The entire iced tea.

I froze. The cats scattered. Their work here was done.

The server rushed over with napkins. I blotted. She brought more. At this point, I wasn’t drying anything. I was just moving the iced tea around. 

Ice cubes had taken up residence in my pockets.

I had no choice. I had to walk back to the hotel looking like I’d had an unfortunate incident.

Sunglasses on. Chin up. Down Worth Avenue I went.

Palm Beach personified approached — perfectly coiffed, perfect sandals, head-to-toe Lilly Pulitzer. She glanced at my pale pink shorts, then offered a knowing little smile.

I wanted to scream, No! It’s iced tea!

But dignity sometimes requires silence.

After the Chaos

By the end of the weekend, I realized Palm Beach hadn’t asked me to be perfect—it had simply invited me to show up.

Maybe that’s the real charm of these unsupervised little adventures. When things go sideways—and somehow, they always do—straighten your sunglasses, keep walking, and enjoy the story as it unfolds.

After all, perfectly planned weekends are rarely the most memorable.

Part of the Coastal Cowgirl Series