Bimini

Bimini exists because Miami exists—more specifically, because fifty miles of ocean separate them. This proximity created unusual niches that other Bahamian islands couldn't fill. When the United States banned alcohol in 1920, Bimini transformed from a quiet fishing settlement into the western hemisphere's most important smuggling depot overnight. Rum warehouses lined the harbor, boats shuttled contraband across the Florida Straits by night, and the local population found sudden employment transferring illegal spirits. The same shallow channels that made Bimini difficult for large ships to approach made it perfect for the fast rum-runners who supplied Florida speakeasies.

The boom lasted exactly thirteen years. When the Twenty-first Amendment ended Prohibition in 1933, Bimini's economy collapsed immediately. The warehouses emptied, the smugglers left, and the island faced the familiar problem of boom-bust resource extraction: what do you do when the resource disappears? Bimini's answer was to pivot to a different kind of commensal relationship. If Americans couldn't use Bimini for smuggling, they could use it for escape.

Ernest Hemingway arrived in 1935, drawn by the Gulf Stream's concentration of marlin, tuna, and sailfish. The same ocean currents that made Bimini a natural waypoint for smugglers also created exceptional sport fishing conditions. The Compleat Angler bar became his headquarters, built from timber salvaged from rum barges—the weathered wood of Prohibition infrastructure repurposed for the next economy. By the 1960s, sport fishing employed most of North Bimini's population. The pattern was set: Bimini would specialize in providing what larger economies needed, then scramble when those needs shifted.

By 2025, Bimini's population of roughly 2,500 depends almost entirely on tourism. Resorts World Bimini, the island's largest employer with 663 staff, exemplifies the vulnerability. The property has never made a profit in fifteen years of operation. Its parent company calls it their "poorest performer" and a "failing joint venture." The resort carries $885 million in liabilities against $192 million in assets—a $694 million solvency deficit. Annual debt servicing alone costs $57 million. Yet it continues operating because there's no alternative employer on an island this small. When the only game in town is losing money, you keep playing anyway.

The Bimini Road—an underwater rock formation that attracts tourists hoping to find Atlantis—is natural beachrock, not ancient civilization. But it's an apt metaphor: Bimini keeps betting on external forces to sustain it, waiting for the next boom that might finally stick. First rum, then recreation, now casino gambling that can't make the economics work despite being the largest private investment in Bahamian history.

By 2026, Bimini faces the same challenge it has since 1933: how to survive when you're built entirely around serving visitors who can leave at any time. The commensal relationship that created opportunity also created complete dependency. When you exist purely because of your proximity to somewhere else, your fate is never fully your own.