On a recent trip to a friend’s wedding I discovered a few things about the world and my place in it that I’d never known before. Chiefly among them is this: I love Miami. I can’t explain it. Being from the Big Apple, Miami holds the firm distinction of being the staging area for millions of exhausted souls bound for the sweet hereafter. And that’s probably true of large portions of the central swath of the state. But Will Smith may have been right.
I only spent a small amount of time in that bone white city, but I did get a healthy dose of South Beach as I wandered the streets in search of a tie. Having arrived the day before the big event, my girlfriend and I spent the first evening at the rehearsal dinner schmoozing with a new group of friends on Lincoln Road.
When the evening convened the boys set off for moderate alcohol abuse, the girls for tea and facials. The next day I ran the length of the beach between our hotel and the southern pier, ogling the beautiful people, keeping stride and otherwise sweating myself silly.
I was shocked by how cool the Loews pool, the Ritz-Carlton garden, et al were. The rest of the day turned up more elegant structures and outdoor spaces. Every street had something to offer: sub-par taqueria, cheap wares and for some reason more sunglass stores than garbage cans. You could make a killing selling $7 shades on the sidewalk in that town.
I made it to the wedding at the Gansevoort Hotel. After a beautiful ceremony we adjourned to the roof before the reception. The night was nothing short of magnificent.
The next night the real party started. After an above average sushi dinner we made our way to the Miami club scene.
After a brief tete-a-tete with a pompous douche in skinny jeans the group of guys managed to get into Arkadia to meet the wives and girlfriends. The rest of the night involved dancing to Top 40 drivel, laughing our collective asses off, enjoying each other’s company and generally having the time of our lives. This, scientifically speaking, may have been the best night of my storied existence.
From there I was off to Orlando to visit my grandmother, but that’s another story …