Recently, my father gave me a gift: the gift of a 2 for 1 Delta Skymiles voucher. With any gift comes great responsibility, but luckily, Brandy and I are two ladies who know how to look good and act bad (that has nothing to do with anything, it's just a quote from the blockbuster Vivica A. Fox smash 'Two Can Play That Game'), and we quickly set out some guidelines to shape our dream vacation.
First of all, we decided to travel on my birthday. This would make people assume that this was a "birthday trip" which allows them to buy us drinks, celebrate us, and excuse our selfish and/or indulgent behaviors. Second of all, we decided to travel someplace neither of us had been before. This ruled out most of the continental US, except for Las Vegas and Miami. We chose Miami, because Las Vegas is gross. Third of all, we decided to buy ourselves special outfits for the trip with the plane ticket money we were saving.
All of these points became important.
FOR EXAMPLE: because we chose to travel the day after my birthday, I chose to throw a rager on the night of my birthday. Because I spent my 21st birthday at the European Parliament instead of throwing up in a classy South Bend bathroom! Because being hungover on a plane is crazy! And because I wanted my birthday weekend to start of right! Well it did start off right, and I enjoyed the company of my friends, but then it went quickly downhill, i.e. walking to the O'Hare Blue Line at 5am, wearing a rainbow dress alongside Brandy in a giant hat which was her only carry-on, which meant we were cute, but didn't change the fact that I wanted to vom.
First impressions of Miami: palm trees. very hot. inefficient information on public transit available at the airport. Two out of those three piss me off.
While riding the bus to our hostel (YES WE STAYED IN A HOSTEL THEY AREN'T JUST FOR EUROPE ANYMORE BUT MORE ON THAT LATER!), the bus stopped to let a shirtless man on. Now, my first reaction to this was, "WHAT?! What about 'no shirt no shoes no service?!' Miami is CRAZY yo!" But then the bus driver said, "Sir, you have no shirt, I can't let you on the bus." So what does this guy do? Of course, with his waxed chest, huge muscles, and at least 18 years, he starts crying. Crying and calling out, "Does anyone have a shirt? Please! Please! Does anyone have a shirt?" And tears are streaming down his face. And it is a strange moment on the bus, personally, I don't know if he's a panhandler out to steal clothes and resell them or what, but from the back of the bus, a white tank top gets thrown at him, so he gets on.
He sits across from us and starts to calm down, so this other guy reaches out, man to man, bro to bro to comfort him. He asks crying naked man what's wrong, and c.n.m says, "My grandmom... she's dead. And my girlfriend... she left me! No like, she just left me on the side of the road. She drove away. When I needed her! She took my shirt!" And the other guy nods with empathy and goes, "Man, I know, I was all set to marry this girl I met on facebook, and I even went and visited her in England, and then she dumped me! But then I found another girl on facebook and I'm moving to Scotland to be with her! Things work out!" During this whole conversation, an elderly Latina is vigorously praying in Spanish over the crying naked man. Wait, no, there was a little bit of English. The English part was "JESUS LOVES YOU HE IS THE ONLY ONE WHO WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU JESUS."
So this was our first impression of Miami.
We had other incidents like...
- seeing the cast of Jersey Shore on the beach (Jersey Shore, now filming at Miami Beach, yeah, we know, it seems paradoxical, but IT WAS REAL)
- accidentally getting drunk because when you order one drink in Miami, they bring you a FISHBOWL. And then they tell you it's buy one get one free day, so they give you another one. And if you're leaving, they put the alcohol in a CUP for you so that you can carry it all around town.
- spinning around outdoor dance floors with Latin men
- befriending club bouncers and getting "insiderz tipz"
But probably the most intense part of our trip involved our HOSTEL. I had been excited about the hostel. I remembered my Euro-treks, exploring exotic cities by day, forming international friendships, and dancing until dawn. I expected these things from the hostel advertised as "THE BEST HOSTEL IN NORTH AMERICA," plus it came with free breakfast, free lunch, free dinner, free club outings, free beach towels, free ping pong, and many other free things. What I did not expect was a zombie cult-land hostel with a bleached blonde 35 year old puppetmaster commanding me to go out clubbing as he rollerbladed around the rec room. What I did not expect was a front desk attendant who, when I asked her how to get to Little Havana, said, "I've never been there?" and then pulled out a map of Miami and circled the words LITTLE HAVANA and gave it to me. I did not expect that when crackers and a tub of peanut butter were placed before me, this was to be my breakfast. I did not expect to meet a French sailor either, but these things happened! Also, there were fat disabled cockroaches crawling around the floor, but they didn't hurt anyone, just added to the ambiance.
But yeah, we did go out in Miami with our hostel, despite the hostel manager's weird peer pressure. Brandy wore sky high white heels that made people holler things like, "You're in Miami, your dress shouldn't cover your butt all the way!" and "Hey, Cheesecake." I wore a gold sequined dress that prompted Russian tourists to take pictures of me in the street and snarky gay men to cry, "What threw up all over her?" We started parties, we got our free drinks, we left parties early to catch our 4am flight.
So yes, Brandy and Lisa DID MIAMI. We saw her treasures and Lisa was, on one occasion, poisoned by her food. In the end, I think we both decided that we are Midwestern girls. I know this is not how most people thought the story would end. I know many people thought the story might involve a little more Gloria Estefan and a little less heatstroke, but that is not what happened. This was the story of Miami. Never forget.
Also, I just want to say that much has changed since my older entries, i.e. I am now obsessed with the babies I nanny for. And when I say obsessed, I mean I have started calling them "my babies."
