What a weekend.
For those of you who are uninitiated WMC stands for Winter Music Conference. It’s basically a week long party in Miami Beach where everyone involved in electronic music gather to try and destroy themselves. Beautiful women, boatloads of drugs and beer that’s been marked up 300% are the hallmarks of this event.
As I mentioned earlier, I’ve never been able to go before. This year I decided to make it down for a few days, if only so that I can stop having to explain why I’ve never been to every one of my friends. Overall, I had a complete blast. I was fortunate enough to luck into a great group of my friends who were partying together down there and they let me tag along. When you’re in a strange climate with strange goings on it’s definitely the people who make the party.
As with all parties there’s always the requisite breakdown, the whiner, the cry baby, the drama the whatever. We’ll get to that later of course, but let’s start with a quick bullet pointed recap:
Friday 4:00 pm
I head off from my office Newark Airport. It’s amazingly easy to get to this airport from anywhere in New York. A billion times easier than La Guardia or Kennedy. It’s also usually cheaper. With this in mind I booked my flight to Miami from there and checked in.
Four hours late. Instead of getting in at 9:00 pm and heading over to my Uncle Carl’s place in Pompano Beach for a night of relaxation I was now arriving at 1:00 am. This problem was two fold. I had originally planned only to be in South Beach from Saturday morning to Sunday night, completely erasing the need for a hotel room. Now I was in town for three days and needed a couch to crash on. In a matter of minutes I went from hardcore partier to mooching schlep. I hate that.
Fortunately I have some awesome fucking friends. A couple minutes on the phone and I was all set up with places to stay, a press pass for the night’s party and a group of excellent kids. My people for the weekend would include: Joel, Colleen, Saisha, Dale, Karen, Leks and Elisa. Not sure if I’ve ever mentioned these kids before but they’re the nicest, most accommodating people you could ever have the honor of meeting. I had snagged a piece of carpet to crash on, check. Party on.
With that settled I got ready to hang out at the airport for a while (read: get drunk). The only place to do this was at a TGI Friday’s. So there I was, instead of being on my way to a bohemian weekend in Miami, I was sipping beers in a chain restaurant watching ESPN. I felt more than a little pedestrian. Fortunately a friend of mine was more than willing to engage with me in some heated texting, :lol:. Made me feel at least 75% less lame.
Finally, at 9:00 with a great beer buzz in head, I boarded the plane. We sat on the tarmac for the next hour and I passed the hell out. I was seated next to one of those big guys. You know the type, not HUGE but big enough to slightly annoy you for the next three hours. One of them. I have the absolute WORST luck with flights. Four hours late and seated next to a big sweaty dude pressing thigh the entire way. I considered Purel-ing my jeans.
Fortunately because of my delay I ended up landing at about the same time as my friends, Saisha and Dale. These kids are fucking ridiculously cool. Dale is one of the only guys I know who loves to drink for the same perverted and wrong reasons I do. We made successive plans to steal the following: A car, an alligator, a baby and a gnome table. None of this happened.
We hopped into a cab together and headed off to our friends’ hotel room at the Essex House. It was 2am and we started drinking, heavily. Within 30 minutes we were freshened up and off to the AM Only party on the terrace of Nocturnal, a club in downtown Miami.
To call the place packed would be an understatement of the largest order. Fortunately our friends were throwing the party and a VERY frazzled Jen came out and walked all six of us in. Within minutes we were upstairs dancing in the cool night air the very banging sounds of Mistress Barbara.
Drinks and drugs followed and it would be a total waste of my time and your time recounting every little detail. I will mention that I fell completely in love with this one girl and made the most idiotic mistake of not getting her number. I’ve literally kicked myself every hour on the hour since. 😆 All I’ve got is a first name, location and hometown. *kicks self again*
I danced like a maniac for about six hours. We jumped around, hooted and hollered and had an absolute blast. Once the sun started coming up around 7 I realized I had made what would be my first of many n00bish mistakes of the Conference. I’d forgotten my sunglasses.
This is the scene. In the background, that girlie blond mop, that’s Richie Hawtin and his homotechnoemo hair. But damn can he throw down some records.
As everyone around me suited up and partied away in the sun light I was left cowering in a corner like Nosferatu. It was not pretty. Around 9am, our supplies limited and after making the decision to get some sleep and rally for a big Saturday, we headed home. We had a short, abortive attempt at grabbing some early morning beach time, but the wind was so fierce that we just decided to crash.
There would be no sleep for me as I was about to head off for day 2.