Miami Story Part 1: Girls Gone Wild

We survived. We made it home.

Miami rocked my top off. (It actually did, and I'll get to that later).

I don't know what it is about Miami....but it gets into my blood and we basically go insane for the 2-3 days we can afford to slip away.

I heart Florida in general, but we have been here three times in the last 8 years and every time we discover a little more about South Beach and the culture and Miami and its surrounding areas.

First time we went?  We stayed at Hotel Chelsea.

I wanted to kill myself.

Don't get me wrong.  I like to party.  But holy hell. We arrived and obviously got shit faced and burned like lobsters within the first three hours like total rookies and all I wanted to do was go to sleep and couldn't.

Why?

Because our goddamn hotel turned into a nightclub from midnight until 4am. 

Anyways....live and learn.

Second trip was our honeymoon 3 years ago.  We stayed at the Hotel Beacon right on Ocean Drive with an ocean front view.  I was in heaven.  We were in heaven!! We actually got a few hours sleep at night and partied and drank and sunbathed and frolicked in the ocean and explored the city like two teenagers.

Beacon is the tall blue hotel on the left.

This time?  We stayed 10 blocks north at the Richmond Hotel.  This one was fantastic. We have another ocean front room just below the Penthouse. The room wasn't anything overly fancy, but the hotel had a pool and outdoor area that connected straight to the beach.

Panoramic view from our room.

Richmond Pool area

So here's what went down:

Our flight was at 5:30am....yes, I know that was early...way too early to be exact, but we wanted as much beach time as possible given we had just under 3 days.

We land, cab it to the hotel and since we know we are incredibly early for check in....stow our carry on suitcase with the front desk, change into bathing suits and cover ups in a bathroom and are off.


We hit up the Clevelander for a mojito and check out the scene.

Apparently Flav-a-Flave was the valet.

We bring class to Miami by buying our standard cheap cooler and beers for the beach.
Bud Lite Lime-a-ritas now come in a strawberry flavor so I obviously swooned with delight.

 Now...TBag is typically a cheap date when it comes to drinking. Two to three drinks and I probably have to take a nap.
In Miami? I think I finished 3/4 of that 12 pack and to be honest .....the details of the evening until 8pm are a tad fuzzy.

This is what I do know:
After an hour or so of getting sufficiently shitfaced, we made our way to the crashing waves.  The water was cooler but still nice enough to hop into. The waves were higher and stronger than they typically are in late July or August.
A big one rolls towards us and we both dive under.
Mark looks at me quizzically then around us frantically.
I....being drunk as hell, have no idea what he's doing and ask him why he looks like he pooped his pants.

Bayou: "Your top is gone"
TBag: "What...(as I grab my boobs and get hit with another wave)...shit!"

Seriously you guys....it's just gone. Like...not floating around us, not still attached to my leg, not anywhere.

"What do I do?"....I say, half laughing, half scared.

We both look to the shore to check out who would ultimately be checking me out.

Thank you, Miami, for being so lax about dress code, because I can see not only a wide range of thong bikini bottoms, but I also see boobies! Hooray for boobies!

So, with arms wrapped tightly around bebe boobs, I walk just behind Mark to our seats and flop down.

I wasn't about to be Debby Downer, so the best way to get over an awkward situation is to drink more, obviously, and this is why I'm smiling in this picture. Because I have no idea what the hell is going on.

Ha!!! You thought you were gonna see the money shot didn't you?

Now don't get too excited.  There were PLENTY of other ladeez lying around with EVERYTHING on display...and most had big ole fakies, so in comparison, people would probably glance by and just go, "pssshhh" when there are Double D's next to me.

Plus, the way I figure, it could be A LOT worse...the bottoms could have fallen off and then we would have to leave, because boobs ain't not thang, but everything else?  Um no...wrap that shit up in something.

Bayou told me at some point that his back was burning so we headed back to the hotel around 4 when we were allowed to check in.
We may or may not have had a brief romp that was cut short by me finally realizing the windows were wide open.

TBag: "I can see the people in the pool! Can they see us?!"
Bayou: "We are really high up...I don't think so."
TBag:  Oh.....ok, cool.

I woke up a few hours later with a migraine so bad I thought I was going to die.  Seriously...I asked Bayou if I was bleeding from my ears, it hurt that bad.  But we're in Miami people, so I choked down a million Tylenol's, dragged my semi-drunk ass into the shower to rinse off the shame from the beach and we headed out for dinner.

Stayed tuned for Part Two:
I may or may not have slightly crippled myself,  but I can tell you one thing....my clothes stayed on in public for the rest of the trip!

Girls Gone Wild,
TBag. Out.