January 27, 2013

27 Jan

My first time ever in Miami was quite the experience.  I was there for A’s bachelorette party over MLK weekend, and it was quite the eventful weekend I must say.

We arrived on Sat morning after a 6am flight to a rainy and gloomy Miami… but fortunately the weekend quickly transformed from balls to amazeballs.

We started with lunch at 5 Napkin Grill, followed by mojito push pops at Hyde:

5 Napkin

5 Napkin

Mojito push pops

Mojito push pops

Dinner that night was at The Dutch, where there was apparently some Miami Heat event going on, which got me super excited that I might actually get to meet Dwyane Wade in person to tell him his name has been spelled wrong his entire life.  Every tall black person who walked by the front of the restaurant, I literally jumped up and pretended to go to the bathroom to be able to walk by them and take a closer look.  Unfortunately my racism prevented me from actually identifying any Heat, but I do know for certain that I didn’t see Dwyane or Lebron or Bosh. 😦

Never mind those ath-o-leets… the food here deserves more attention as it was one of the most incredible meals I’ve ever had: oyster slider for appetizer; skirt steak with kimchi fried rice and duck egg for entree; watermelon crush for drink; and rum donuts for dessert.

Oyster slider

Oyster slider

Skirt steak with kimchi fried rice and duck egg

Skirt steak with kimchi fried rice and duck egg

Watermelon crush

Watermelon crush

Rum donuts

Rum donuts

After dinner though was when the real adventure began.

The plan for Sat night was to hit up LIV, “Miami’s hottest club” that was also located right in the Fontainebleau where we were staying.  The maid of honor (MOH) A had already made a table reservation, so we figured it would be easy enough to get in.

When we got back from dinner, the hotel lobby was seriously Shahs of Sunset meets Real Sluts of Miami.  I don’t think I’ve ever been in a bar or club in NYC where someone was wearing a skimpier outfit than I was.  Miami took skank to a whole new level.

Seven well-dressed, classy girls from Manhattan walk up to the front of the line, and six of us get in with only some minor pushing and shoving… when M announces that she doesn’t have her ID.  Luckily the bouncer and hostess were incredibly nice, letting M know to run upstairs to the room to grab her ID and they would let her right back in.  None of us were worried about her, and so the rest of us went ahead to our table area to start drinking the multiple bottles of champagne and Grey Goose that MOH A had generously purchased for us.

Twenty minutes later, when M still hadn’t joined us.  Bride-to-be A and I got concerned, and we went back upstairs to check out what the delay was.  I started texting M, who texted back that she had been waiting in line and they were making her pay a cover charge, which was completely ridiculous considering we had purchased a $3,000 table (yes — a $3,000 table).  When M refused to pay the cover, they apparently kicked her out.  M even went and found the nice hostess from before, and she completely pretended not to recognize her and kicked her out back over the rope.  M then went and found the nice bouncer from before, and he completely pretended not to recognize her and kicked her out back over the rope.  By this point M had already been kicked out of the club three times.  I mean, seriously…

Having heard about this ridiculousness, bride-to-be A decided to take charge and ran out to try talking to another bouncer, which turned into violent fighting within minutes.  My blood was boiling at this point, given my inherent hatred for cops, security guards, bouncers, authority figures and ethnic people, and K literally had to hold me back to prevent me from going after those assholes.  Before I even had the chance though, bride-to-be A, who is the most docile and non-confrontational person out of the group after M, hit the bouncer, flicked him off, screamed at him to go FUCK himself, and then ran off in some unknown direction.  M immediately ran after her, and the rest of us were mortified… except for me, who felt like a proud mama.  I had finally converted one of my friends into a delinquent.

Anyway, I started texting MOH A telling her to come upstairs immediately to help us diplomatically resolve this mess.  By the time MOH A had come back upstairs, we had luckily found bride-to-be A, who was still furious at the bouncer and continued yelling obscenities at him.  I was creeping in the corner observing this drama from afar, when I see bride-to-be A yet again flailing off in an unknown direction with M chasing after her.  MOH A then storms back into the club and tells me that bride-to-be A got our entire group kicked out of LIV.

Yikes.  I couldn’t even believe this.  It was bride-to-be A’s bachelorette party, MOH A had just bought a $3,000 table, and we had gotten kicked out of the club within the first 15 minutes of getting there.  We were all freaking out at this point, but fortunately MOH A used her diplomatic skills to go talk some sense into the manager, who–after 20 minutes of us explaining the situation to him–profusely apologized, let all the girls back in, and bought us a round of “I’m sorry I have such incompetent staff” tequila shots.

After a rough beginning, the night actually turned out to be insanely fun.  The music at the club was amazing; we essentially had our own “stage” to dance on; our table was next to a bachelor party of guys from NYC; and some scandalous stuff went down like girl-on-girl action and half our party getting heavily hit on by married men.  We ended up staying at LIV until 5am, which was the latest I had ever seen bride-to-be A out — proud mama again.

LIV

LIV

Given I wanted to die the next morning, I’m not sure how I actually physically made it out to the pool three hours later at 8am.  But my will to tan is a strong one.  After an entire day of passing out in the sun, we had a slightly calmer Sunday night, starting with an unbelievable dinner at Khong River.

Noodle wraps

Noodle wraps

Fried rice

Fried rice

Chicken curry

Chicken curry

Duck

Duck

Pork leg

Pork leg

Steamed buns

Steamed buns

Some delicious dessert

Some delicious dessert

After dinner we attempted to go to a hookah bar nearby, but after requesting a different table, we were kicked out of the bar for being “difficult customers.”  I’m not sure how this keeps happening to a group of nice girls, and the more shocking part is that I really had nothing to do with any of the kick-outs that happened over the weekend.  I had finally successfully taught my friends to do that job for me.  Proud!

After that incident, half our group peaced out and went to bed by midnight.  MOH A and I stayed out and forced bride-to-be A to stay out with us, and we met up with M2, one of the few guys I know in Miami and who I was trying to juice that night.  After hitting up a few more bars and putting every kind of liquor into my body, I successfully juiced M2 and put that into my body and then proceeded to puke up everything I had drunk the next morning.

It was a totally expected way to end a great weekend.  We thought we had encountered enough unexpected drama throughout the weekend, but it didn’t end with leaving the Fontainebleau.

Bride-to-be A, M and I were on the same flight back from MIA to LGA, and we were peacefully minding our own business at our gate when we see this super creepy guy wearing an orange kerchief over his face like a freaky mask I had never seen before in my life.  At first we thought he was a war veteran who had a disfigured face.  But when I got closer to him (I was just a few people behind him in the boarding line), I saw that he had disgustingly orange, matted hair, heavy eyeliner, his skin was an abnormal color, and the rest of his attire was just plain WEIRD.  He literally looked like a Michael Jackson reincarnate freak who was about to cause the next Columbine.  I’m pretty sure he was a cult leader.

What was even more terrifying was that his boarding pass didn’t go through, and then a bunch of TSA agents came to our gate to question him.  They asked him why he was wearing that fucking weird ass mask, and when he answered “for religious purposes,” bride-to-be A literally started having a panic attack.  She was hyperventilating, burst into tears, and an oxygen tank had to be brought out to her since she couldn’t breathe.  She had to be escorted off the plane and was asked to take a later flight.

Meanwhile, M and I were also freaking out and desperately wanted to follow bride-to-be A off the plane.  We would never forgive ourselves if he ended up bombing the plane and we hadn’t followed A off the flight.  Even though I was on zero sleep and all I wanted to do was pass out on the plane, I kept my eyes wide open and nervously watched that freak the entire time to make sure he wasn’t going to do anything suspicious, like go to the bathroom.

After two hours of hell, we finally landed safely in ATL where our layover was, followed by an uneventful flight back to LGA sans freaky cult leader.

Despite some drama and near-death experiences, it was one of the most fun weekends I’d had in a while, summarized by bride-to-be A as follows:

Thank you girls so much for the most fun weekend with all the ingredients of a very successful Bachelorette party:
Amazing hotel… check
Spa pampering… check
Amazing restaurants (305 and 212 ;P)… check
Poolside tanning… check
Temps in high 70’s… check
Beach… check
No penis straws (not MY thing, but I do look fwd to these at yours)… check
Cluuuubbin’… check
Kicked out of the club… check
… multiple people multiple times… check
Master persuasion to the point the club mgr apologizes, escorts delinquents back in, and sends shots… check
Bottles and model… check
Girl-on-girl make-out… allegedly
Kicked out of a hookah bar… check
Bar make-outs… check
After party juice… check
Drag queen… check
Shopping… check
No drama (except on return flight :-0)… check
Scandalous photos… check
… & as a result fb pic post removal/edit requests… check
xoxoxoxo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Completely nailed it.

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