I’ve Still Got Sand in My Shoes

As predicted, my time off flew by me, leaving me with little more than the remnants of a week away from reality and a cruel game of catch-up at work. But it feels good to be back in my element, where I feel more comfortable, and where I am better able to cope with myself and my current reality. (read: where I can get laid) :)

Gazing at the city skyline from the cab on the way home from JFK late Friday night, something came over me. It was a warm feeling of belonging that almost brings me to tears to recall. What sucks is that I feel more at home on this island than I do in my own skin. I have some recurring personal issues that I can’t seem to get a handle on, and that my vacation only served to distract me from (& at the same time managed to intensify). Saturday night (back in NYC) I saw into the future to a time when these issues spiral completely out of control and where my desperation becomes the source of my ultimate demise.

In an attempt to resurrect this post from its current dark status, here’s a (shorter than sweet) recap of my trip:

Touching down at the Fort Lauderdale airport on Saturday night (3/3), I couldn’t wait to take my socks off and let my toes breathe in a pair of flip-flops. After being picked up by JF & our host JC (aka Pajarito), we had just enough time to get home, get pretty, and head downtown for United We Dance at Twilo. I was way too sober thanks to the less-than-generous portions of vodka that the bartenders were serving up, but the fun was still there to be had!

Sunday was the Beach Party, the climax of the Winter Party festivities where thousands of half-naked gay men gather on South Beach where Ocean Drive meets the infamous 12th street to dance to the beats of the Circuit’s premiere DJs. It was a great time, but would no doubt have been more fun if I was on something that made me completely forget how Nicole Ritchie I looked compared to all the muscled gods that South Beach (and the gay party circuit) attracts so successfully. Deborah Cox’s surprise performance at 6pm made for a very gay moment. Imagine over a thousand queens singing every word to "Absolutely Not" (it’s pretty in a not-so-pretty way)!

Sunday night was a chance for me to chill alone while the boys headed to Crobar for another night of binge bumping and grinding. I quickly decided that the $85 at the door that I would have spent to have a medium-to-swell time would be better spent toward the cost of extending my stay through Friday (my original return flight was scheduled for Wednesday).

Monday through Thursday vanished before I knew it, and my last day was spent by the pool recovering from a night of one-too-many Red Bull & vodkas! The in-between time was filled with lots of eating (News Café is a favorite for brunch), beaching, and cruising down Lincoln Road (my favorite part of South Beach). Taking in the fresh, warm air permanently put the biggest grin on my face, which was probably completely annoying to those around me. But I didn’t care (too much)!

To summarize: I didn’t drink nearly as much as I thought I would, I did feel way uglier than I thought I would (that’s normal in Miami), Pajarito is one of the nicest, most sincere people I have ever met, and Joey got married to a good ole’ southern boy from ATL. The rest I either don’t remember or will never divulge. Let’s just say I hope the cancer patient gets well soon! JF, remember that's our little secret! :)