Ah the final 36 hours of my stay in Miami were definitely a good time. If you remember from yesterday, I left off just as my boy, John and I were headed to Sin for the Sullivan Room party.
Sullivan Room is a great space here in the city on Sullivan between Bleeker and West 3rd. Up until recently I wasn’t the biggest fan of the place because it was cramped, dingy and just poorly laid out. A little over a month and a half ago they redid the place entirely and I’ve been spending about a night per week there since. So when I heard they were putting on a party down in Miami (also featuring my favorite DJ in the whole wide world, Hector Romero, who is the resident DJ for our White Party at my apartment) I was locked in for the evening.
Armed to the fucking gills with favors galore we rolled in around 11 and gathered around a bottle laid out for us so nicely by the staff. The locals (meaning NYC locals) we playing in a little duplex area off and above us, while I just proceeded to get seven shades of faded. Never leave a bottle of any type of vodka and a bucket of ice in front of me, ever.
I got the type of drunk where I started to think that a go-go girl had the hots for me. HA! That’s clubber newbie mistake #507.
Anyway, around this time my friend and boss over at Rhythmism.com, Brian, shows up with a banner. Now we were partially sponsors of this party. By partial sponsors we said, “sure you can put our name on the party and we’ll send out a mailer.” The benefits of this are kind of impossible to quantify. We have this great cloth banner, but we’re too lazy to show up before the party to hang it up and WAY too lazy to hang around afterwards to take it home. So at the Buck 15 party I’d suggested that we just bring it anyway and wave it around and be silly.
Well, somehow I got it in my mind to tie two of the ends together around my neck and wear that shit like a cape, thus creating the character who would be name, Captain Rhythm. I’ve only got one picture so far, but there’s a video out there and at least twenty other pictures that I know of, so once I track them down I’ll post em.
So I danced around in that thing for about six hours. Overall the party was a fucking blast. Great times hanging with Hector who, besides being a world caliber DJ and packing gigantic venues all over the world, is among the nicest and most humble people I know. He also posed for the cover of Pacha Magazine looking like he was posing for Tiger Beat. No shit, check it out:
Hahahahahaha! I gave him no end of shit for that, he’s sooooooo cute there! The cutie on the left is my friend, Colleen, who is one of the best party favors you can have around, very good people.
Around 6 or 7 in the morning myself, Eileen, Elisa and Leks headed out to the fabled Sunday School for Degenerates party at Pawn Shop in downtown Miami. Before we left we had to walk about ten blocks to get something from the hotel room and take a cab (which took forever to find).
On a positive note, I walked the entire ten blocks as a reaaaaally drunk Captain Rhythm. I made Ei and Elisa flap my cape like I was flying.
By the time we finally arrived I think we were all a little burnt out. I’d been going for over 50 hours straight, mostly on adrenaline and alcohol, which as many can tell you, is NOT a great stimulant. Not to mention I was only on the list +2 which meant that since Ei and Elisa are fancy ladies, poor Leks had to pay to get in.
Now let me explain to you what the location Pawn Shop is all about, because it’s kind of hard to picture. The place is ginormous. There are three music locations, two inside and one outside. Inside the front hall there is a hollowed out school bus and trailer that have been converted to crackhead seating. It’s kind of like a playground for the mentally handicapped, because after a night of partying at conference, if you’re not mentally handicapped at 7am, something is seriously wrong with your party ethic.
Around 8 or 9 our other friends (who’d taken much of the night off to get some needed sleep) started arriving. We spent most of our time outside dancing away to some ridiculous tunes. I was trying desperately to pull together but I actually just would wander around aimlessly in a barely conscious trance. Despite this, I had an excellent time. Ran into some kids I haven’t seen for years, even though we live in the same city.
Here are a few pics from the party:
That’s me and Joel. He rocks harder than if AC/DC and Metallica merged via that mutagen stuff from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Not only did I die, but everything ON me died. My phone died and my WATCH died. What are the fucking odds? I went from partying it up to being a caveman, barely capable of speech in about 2.5 seconds. As I felt the dewy shroud of sleep closing in on me from all sides I split, headed back to the hotel room (which was now upgraded to a suite and very empty) and passed out for the next 10 hours. I woke up to Joel and Coll coming back from a day of exuberant partying.
We turned on the Jacuzzi and relaxed for a bit, I was headed for an 11am flight the next day and was going to be gracious for all the sleep I could get.
And that’s really the cliff notes recap of my first WMC, all in all a fucking blast. I’m definitely planning on going back in the future, and doing maybe slightly differently. My work schedule around now is just SO fucking hectic that I don’t think I could ever really get down there for more than a few days, but damnit I’m going to try.
Oh, by the way, I had another awesome flight on the way home. I was seated right in front of a REALLY loud kid who was kicking my seat the entire way, despite me telling him and his mother to stop. Right after the first time I yelled at his mother… the kid puked ALL over his sister. No joke.
I think I’m taking a train down next year.