Sat. June 15, 2013:
After breakfast, Marianne, Camilla and I headed out to Dunkin’ Donuts. Alas, we barely made it to the end of the street before we got distracted by a garage sale. It was terrible, I couldn’t buy anything lest I have to mail it to myself or God forbid check my luggage. It was unbelievably hot; Camilla and I took to hiding in the garage by the fan “looking” at antiques for sale. There was a giant alarm clock (the old kind with two bells on top) twice the size of a regular one, as in too big to fit in my luggage. Marianne headed back to her house with all her purchases, meanwhile Camilla and I set out to Dunkin’ Donuts. Nothing was going to stop me from having my coffee fix.
We stopped at Publix (grocery store) so I could also get my Swiss Miss fix. I had pre-planned my packing so I would have room for it. I was also curious to see if they had Fudgey The Whale ice cream cakes in stock, as we would be needing one later in the week for our every-birthday-graduation-special occasion-we-have-missed-in-3 years celebration. They did not have any, but they had fudge-covered coconut Oreos alas I feared they would not survive the trek back to the house. While walking down the juice aisle a guy mentioned to us that it was too hot outside for walking. What gave us away?! Was it our flushed faces? The sweat dripping down our backs? The fact that we were desperately searching for refreshment in the juice aisle? As per my usual routine, we stopped at 7-Elevens so that I could check if any new candy had come out since March, sadly nothing new. And no sign of peanut butter Reese Cups either.
After all the detours we FINALLY made it to Dunkin’ Donuts. My coffee was accompanied by a free donut thanks to a survey at the bottom of my receipt from the previous day. I made the mistake of getting the star-shaped (as in easy to cut into 5 pieces) Father’s Day donut. It was a mistake because it has chocolate on top, not conducive with walking in Florida at high noon. As we walked back we had to cross over the canal where we saw 10 or so turtles lounging in the sun. They appeared to have been there for a while; a few of them had algae growing on their backs. There was what appeared to be a mother bird feeding her baby, sitting underneath her. However when we got closer we realized it was two full grown birds and one had just wedged its way underneath the other (a double-decker bird of sorts) to get at the good stalks of grass in the most awkward pose. We found a hermit crab shell the size of my palm too.
Right as we got to the house, everyone was heading for the car. Turns out we’d been gone for a while and they were going to drive over and pick us up. Marianne and I headed over to Kinko’s while Camilla and Ela were at the library (Lucy had stayed behind). We had wanted to get t-shirt transfers printed but apparently no one uses inkjet printers anymore and we were out of luck. We spent the afternoon chilling at the library, basking in the air conditioned comfort. Writing in my notebook at the library, it felt so scholarly. Adding to that feeling was that we needed to research some clubs to go to in South Beach Miami, as that was the plan for the evening.
We stopped at Wal-Mart to get lunch supplies, alas no signs of Fudgey the Whale. I was starting to get worried; thankfully there were two Carvel locations nearby. After lunch I had a nice relaxing afternoon: I fell asleep on the couch reading. I woke up and had some more coffee. I grabbed the white jug from the fridge and poured what I thought was milk… only it was orange. Turns out I was still groggy, as I had poured orange juice in my coffee. Worse still, I completely forgot about it! About 20 minutes later when my coffee had cooled a bit (instant coffee=boiling hot) I took a sip and thought it tasted kind of like someone had been dunking IKEA cookies in it (orange ginger snaps). It took a few sips before I remembered what had happened.
I had the most delicious epic Eggo for my post-nap snack. I piled it with: peanut butter, almond butter and cranberry preserves. The Eggo wasn’t enough; I was still voraciously hungry so we took to making a pizza. At this point we had about an hour before we planned to leave- and we still had no idea which club we were going to. I had made the unfortunate mistake of getting ready too quickly and was now stuck sitting around waiting. I ended up falling asleep on the couch again.
We finally managed to get our butts close to out the door when we had to stop for mandatory picture taking. It turned silly really quickly. We had decided on Treehouse Club as it was recommended by Marianne’s friend and we trusted her more than the internet. We got there and it wasn’t open yet, we were told that it opened at 11:30pm. We had about 45 minutes of time to kill. We went to the fancy restaurant next door to use the bathrooms, glanced at the menu and left. We wandered around a nearby Walgreens, where I found some earmuffs for sale. There is nothing you need more in Florida than big fuzzy earmuffs to keep your ears warm. In the end we stood outside of Walgreens eating Pringles, super classy. A cabby yelled “hot asses” at us as we walked back. When we got there we found out it wasn’t open, even though the internet said it would be. We asked the valets at the restaurant next door where the nearest club was. They pointed down the street to a club, Mokai, which we had passed about 4 times now. We shrugged and decided to go for it, even though we had seen people trying to weasel their way in before and everyone was way more fancily dressed than us. The owner wouldn’t let us in at first because two of us were wearing flats. After much wheedling and excuse making we finally got in. The place was empty and creepy, it was ritzy meets skanky. There was no dance floor, just booths with bottle service and the drinks started around the $18 mark, with a shot of vodka coming in at $20. We left by the back entrance so as to avoid the owner. I joked about walking by the front again and pretending not to know him, but no one was game. They wanted to dance.
The next club on our list was Buck-15 and it was only about a 20 minute walk. We almost missed it as it was on a small side street. We arrived promptly at midnight, like Cinderella but with two shoes and no pumpkin. There was no cover, so already I liked the place. We went in and it was just a shitty little hole in the wall with rafters above the dance floor. It was about the size of a living room… and it was awesome, and also very hipster but I could live with that. There was no one in the bar; we had the place to ourselves. Alas the DJ was spinning 90s R&B so it was a little awkward to say the least. Eventually some overdressed girls came in, but they just stood around the bar, so not fun. The dance floor was ours and we took to it. We broke out all the best dance moves: the pterodactyl, the shopping for cans, the microwave, and the octopus. As the night wore on people actually started arriving, the music changed to more current stuff (with the occasional 80s-90s songs). At one point Journey came on and the club turned into a karaoke lounge with everyone belting it out. The music got louder and the songs got better, hitting an all-time high with a song from the Spice Girls. There was a stripper pole by the DJ booth and everyone stopped dancing to cheer on the guy in jeans who went up there. He gets bonus points for trying to dance while still holding his drink.
The low-hanging rafters were fun. So many people tried doing pull-ups. It was hilarious to watch the girls try and just hang there, it’s not easy mind you, but I at least pulled myself half way up. The rafters also served as a great place to keep our drinks. That is until a creepy guy started inching his way over and kept his drink right beside ours, acting all shifty. I stared him down and we abandoned our drinks. He migrated to the other side of the club and just stood there, watching us dance. Every time we tried to leave another good song would come on and we would “stay for just this one last song.” This went on for a few hours. We finally gave up and headed out around 3:30am. My feet were killing me and I ended up walking back barefoot.
Being the only other sober person other than the designated driver (Marianne) I automatically got shotgun in the car. I did not want to be back there, it was giddy and loud and I felt old. Some classic lines from the backseat that night:
“Whose feet smell?”
“Not mine, they smell like angels!”
“I’m going to drunk text [insert name]”
“Ohh, I’m going to drunk text [insert cat’s name]”
They were planning out drunk texts, smelling feet and dropping granola bars. Marianne and I laughed that they wouldn’t remember any of it and we could paint them a wonderful story the next morning. Things went from loud and giddy to silent. They had all fallen asleep. As we drove back there were a few psychos speeding down the interstate going at least twice as fast as us and it was 4am! I finally climbed into bed somewhere around 5am. The sleep did not last too long as I awoke to find a cat nose-to-nose with me, staring at me upside down. I was on an air mattress on the floor and he was standing behind me.