Will Smith Did Not Lie

(New Orleans, LA)

Sorry for the delay in Florida stories. We've been really limited on internet access for a little bit. Anyway...

This past Tuesday, after a couple wrong turns yielded an accidental tour of Miami’s projects, we – myself, Katie, Josh, Kristina, and Josh’s friend Brad – arrived in South Beach just in time for happy hour. We indulged at the first bar we passed, Finnegan's, an “Irish” pub, although the only Irish-y thing about it was its name and shamrock logo. Happy hour ended at 7, and our next stop was naturally the beach, to use up the last fading rays of sun. We ran for the waves (except Kristina, who has a fear of water levels over her head), and the water was warm and wonderful. We splashed and swam, dove in and out, tossed a frisbee around, etc, until the sun went down, then set out to conquer the South Beach strip.

Another round at Finnegan’s, then one at Wet Willie's, which served a super wide variety of fruity slushie rum drinks. They gave free samples, so that was good enough for us. We then moved on to our final destination, Mango’s, where everything really kicked off. The place itself was like 5 forms of entertainment mashed together – At some points, girls in super revealing, blacklight-glowing costumes (think: neon orange thong leotard with knee-high furry boots, for example) danced on the bar, at others, other more tastefully dressed dancers did Michael Jackson-esque routines, and still other times, the same variably clad performers sang with a band, usually doing a short set of some kind of salsa or latin music. There were two dance floors, separated by the main bar, and a second level that overlooked the whole scene. Drinks were expensive ($8 for a Bud Light, $11 for a vodka soda) so I kept to water. No one knew the difference anyway because we all took to the dance floor and let loose regardless.

I got a much-needed refresher course in my salsa and bachata skills – surprisingly from some Italians, not Latinos. Apparently there are a lot of Italians who grew up in Miami, and they all learned to dance at a young age. Or maybe that’s just the kind of place we were in. The five of us managed to befriend a good number of people, from a couple of completely toolish guys who were so shocked that my purse wasn’t a designer brand that they offered to buy me a new one, to a middle-aged couple that were exceptionally open with us about the great sex they still have, to the brilliantly inebriated Roberto, who took to Kristina quite nicely. We danced until our feet might have fallen off, and before we knew it, it was 5 in the morning and the bar was shutting down.

Beach time, round two. We were the first ones there, still in the dark, and we ran in again, even happier to be there than we’d been the first time. We stayed until it got light. I didn’t draw the connection to the Will Smith hit of my childhood until I started to write this, but we really did party in the city where the heat is on/all night on the beach til the break of dawn... lol. It was so satisfying, and I’m so glad I got to experience it with three of my closest friends.

That morning was also the U.S. v. Algeria world cup game. With all our best intentions, I don’t think any of us were awake to see it. In my opinion, the sacrifice was worth it.

More Florida stories to come, and photos!