It’s 10:30am. It’s 83 degrees. It’s Feb. 7. It’s quiet. The streets are largely empty. Trucks are parked in front of clubs and restaurants stripped of their food and drink from the night before. Like so many squirrels, the drivers scurry to get the goods inside before the day’s onslaught starts. A couple of scantily clad early risers glide by on inline skates. In two hours, this place will come alive. Most mornings are quiet here on South Beach. The action comes at night. Clubs rock until dawn. Every night.