South Beach. The usual suspects are just as I had imagined here. Old cuban taxi cabis, weathered and leathery in their white embroidered habana shirts, drive languidly in low-rider cadillacs. Richly tan Latino women cruise around in convertibles, decorated with flowing black curly hair and long acrylic nails.
Latino muscle-bound men (the no neck, pumped upper body kind) with wife-beaters strut along next to their tourist counterparts - white dudes with large arms and small waists in pink polo shirts with the collar turned up.
Friends are still passed out from the night before, and the rest are still in transit. So, with creamy frozen cappucino in hand, I stroll onto the beach to check out the scene. This is about as much time I spent at the beach all weekend...
People-wise, it's like Jamaica but not...
Look and feel-wise, it's like Burning Man but not...
College girls on spring break.
The air hangs in mid-breath, warm and humid. Perfect for a refreshing Shermant mint at the pool.
It's like college but not.
Like college...six to a room, party till dawn, watch the sunrise, go to sleep in the morning, then do it all over again. There's the requisite 'pre-party in the room' prior to hitting the clubs.
But not...instead of drinking 40s, at dawn, now it's drinking Grey Goose vodka straight from the bottle (not me of course), at dawn. Instead of hiding in the speakers or sitting on the nasty-ass ground at 1015 Folsom (which, by the way, is a tourist destination club), now it's table service.
Friday Night - Spundae party at Green Lounge.
We trekked out to the design district (aka warehouse area), where the locals go. I was impressed by a good-looking & well-dressed crowd in a swank, outdoor bar - complete w/ bamboos and a tiki-style grass hut.
It was crowded and hot, thank gawd (actually thank Dave!) for table service. We left around 4 a.m., and like true college kids, partied some more in the room before going out to watch the sunrise.
Just when you think you can't push the limits anymore, you somehow manage to push it a little further. And the irony is, the older you get, the more extreme the limits.
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