SUELA love you!

As jealous as I was that I missed out on that shitshow with AD and MM, I recently had a girls weekend of my own. Two of my friends from undergrad came up from Virginia to stay with me in NYC for a long weekend--BK and JW. We all knew we were going to be getting into some rowdy shit--it was being planned weeks in advance. And we were definitely correct. BK turned out to be the shining star of the weekend--everywhere we went guys were tripping over themselves to talk to her. I met them Thursday evening where their bus let out. They were eating pizza and I happily joined them. There was a guy at the table next to us who started making comments about BK's pillow she had with her luggage. Luckily he left soon after because he was not very interesting. He was replaced by three more guys who also made lame observations in the hopes of being able to speak with BK. To quote her directly, "Stoopid!", 2 o's necessary. I decided to show them a bit of Astoria so we headed to the beer garden. The weather was not nice so we sat inside. It was empty minus a table of guys. Not long after we settled in one headed our way. When he found out they were from VA he began to discuss how much he wanted to visit Baltimore (wrong state buddy). When I told him he would get killed there he turned his attention exclusively to BK. JW and I amused ourselves with a new face she had learned on the subway ride over--a tight-lipped smile which made her upper lip almost disappear and for some reason caused me to laugh uncontrollably.
The next day we ate brunch at the diner next to my apartment. I ate more than the two of them combined. Then we headed to the Upper Eastside to see some museums and so I could go to a "stoopid" meeting. I left them at one of the museums for this and found them afterwards drinking at a chain restaurant nearby. We had Thai for dinner which disagreed with my stomach. Not a good start to a night of drinking. We mixed a large soda bottle of vodka and hopped on the subway to head to Meatpacking. Since I had companions with me I decided to go all out and wear my shiny gold leggings. And lo and behold as soon as we walked on the train there was an old, flamboyant black man in a similar outfit. Except his was much shinier and he had made his. I of course posed for a photo with him, after we all chatted for most of the train ride. Once we arrived in Meatpacking I had no idea where to go, as I had never been there. We wandered and decided on the Standard Beer Garden (again the weather was not nice). BK set off to talk to a table of boys, who turned out to be the most boring Dutch people I have ever met. While this was taking place I received a text from Dennis Reynolds, the guy I had met during Tiesto in Miami. He ended up meeting us out and good thing because he was able to lead us to another bar a bit later. JW and I grew bored with the Dutch and headed over to another group of European-looking guys. They were a group of friendly Brits. All except one, of course the one who kept talking to me. In my state I was convinced he was gay for some reason and happy oblidged when he asked for my number, we could be bff's of course. False. It turns out he wasn't gay (as we discovered when he blew up my phone for the next week and a half) and wasn't even with the Brits! Creepy.

The rest of the night was a blur. I know I spoke with Dennis Reynolds about many things, though I have no idea what. I also know that he was only speaking to me because he had given up on BK whom had started to make out with one of the Brits. I did get free drinks though, not that I needed them. JW was exhausted and finally convinced the rest of us to leave. BK lost her camera and I apparently kept trying to convince Dennis Reynolds to come to the diner with us in Queens. For god's sake I don't know why. Luckily he refused. Once at the diner I ordered a salad (perfect drunk food) then sat on the floor of the bathroom for 20 minutes feeling sick. I stumbled back to my apartment before the girls were done eating. I passed out for a minute then woke up to puke, while they were calling my phone to let them in. I eventually managed to when I was done being disgusting.
Not quite though--I puked roughly 10 more times the next day. The jack and gingers I had deciced to drink all night to soothe my stomach had failed me. I was barely alive and had to call into work at the fucking coffee chain. They did not take it well--they said I either needed to find someone to cover or get a doctor's note. I did neither and for the next week was terrified I was going to be fired. The girls left to do some sightseeing and get dinner. Finally around 8pm I was able to crawl out of bed and into the shower. The girls arrived around 10 (they had gotten very lost) and I greeted them, dressed and eating my roommate's friend's leftover taco at the table. Now Roommate had also had a rough day. He had gone on a bar crawl, gotten far too wasted and somehow fallen on his face. He had lost a tooth, cut his cheek and had a black eye. He looked like shit, or at least like someone had beaten the shit out of him. He was still drunk when he arrived home and livid, yelling about his face. The girls quickly got ready and we headed out for our next big night--Rebel Bingo!
I was ready to reclaim my prize. The cover party for the night was a fashion show and it was being held in the basement of the Hudson Hotel--the place I had gone my first weekend out in NYC. We showed up, me in bright yellow tights, JW in a shirt that screamed "HELLO" in neon letters and all of us with huge sunglasses. I asked the moustached man in all white the way to the fashion show. We walked through 3 different hallways until we entered a dark basement filled with rowdy wasted people with techno blaring much too loudly. I was in heaven. Though I still felt mildy sick, I decided to just stick to beer that night. We played the first round of bingo unsuccessfully. We never made it to another round--we were sidetracked by a group of French and Swiss boys who kept trying to write all over us with their markers. JW took an immediately liking to one who lived in Geneva (I disapproved, story of why to come later). They proceeded to chat in a corner the entire night while BK and I danced with the cast of characters present--our French friends, a man in a cowboy hat, his friend with a neon boa around his neck that I wanted nowhere near me, a guy in a panda suit, a guy with a stuffed panda that we tried to steal, etc. The pictures from this night look like we were at a circus and we basically were. We also proceeded to yell lines from our new favorite video that MM had sent to me. http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/77b668bc46/rich-dicks She said the two guys acted just like our Miami friends Mac and Charlie Kelly, which isn't too far from the truth. I showed it o BK and JW and they loved it as well. BK and I almost died at one point in the night when Swiss guy crumpled up a napkin and threw it over the bar. What a rich dick. And lesson learned--Bingo parties in Manhattan are definitely more successful than Bingo parties in Brooklyn.
At the end of the night we discussed our plan of action. While this was going on we spotted the man in gold from the subway! JW ran up to him hugged him. We then decided to call it a night and bought a bag of chips each for the ride. We promptly passed out when we returned to the apartment. The next morning. I ate a cupcake for breakfast and then we trucked back into the city for our touristy bus tour. First we had to drop their luggage off at a random storage place that smelled incredibly foul. On the way I thought BK and JW may die from carrying all their stuff on the trek. And since I was still too weak from my all-day pukefest to do much of anything, I looked like the bitch who wouldn't carry her own luggage. The bus tour was successful--we got to sit and be lazy and make fun of foreign children. We then retrieved their luggage (holding our breath) and I stood with them in line for their bus back. At this time I realized I hadn't properly shaved my ankles--BK lent me her razor. Not knowing what else to do I did a quick touch-up in line in front of everyone. A little too quickly as I cut the shit out of my ankles. I was meeting Cute Guy and I showed up with bleeding ankles and a razor and bloody subway napkin in my purse. I reported this to the girls via text--they were on their way back and I was heartbroken.

Guest Post

MM recently sent me an email about an epic weekend of her own she had had visiting AD. The entire time at Ultra they had told stories about their hot mess of a friend that went to UMiami with them. I had seen pictures of her and quite frankly she terrified me. Hot Mess met them in DC from Long Island for the weekend and this is what took place:

hahah the weekend was very fun- you should have come!! we got

alllllmost to the end homefree from any major Hot Mess embarrassments...

unless you count the fact that she was very unattractively passing out

while sitting up in a bar. I wish i had taken a picture of that.

people kept asking us what was wrong with her, but since i was on such

a mission to get a man, AD and i basically pretended we didnt

notice. but finally we threw in the towel and got in a cab to go home.

we got out of the cab literally a half a block from AD's place and

see 2 guys walking down the street and we just yelled "hey you want to

go in our hot tub?" obviously they did and upon closer inspection,

AD actually knew one of them (ill let her fill in the details of

how...) The other guy was verrrry cute minus his outfit (a black tank

top- not like a beater/undershirt but a tank top that Im pretty sure I

also own) and questionable facial hair and tattoos. he would have been

dead sexy without all of those things. but anyway, we took them

upstairs to AD's and started drinking her vodka-pineapple

abomination. Im pretty sure Hot Mess passed out at this point? but the

rest of us were busy trying to pick the lock to get into the hot tub

which was closed. well eventually we notice that Hot Mess and the

more-creepy-less-hot guy were missing so AD goes to check on them

and walks in on them naked on the floor of her poor closet! super

gross! then Hot Mess left at like 6 am and the naked boy proceeds to try

to molest sleeping AD. and i totally dropped the ball by passing

out before making a move on the hot one...

haha another funny note- i decided to be a trooper and take public

transportation (i.e. train and subway- my first time ever using either

of these alone) to get to AD's instead of driving (im so green).

on the way down, i managed to get onto the wrong train- i got on the

Amtrak Acela train that is all 1st class/business class and very posh.

I was the only person on it that wasnt in a business suit and was

under 40 (it was thursday at like 5 pm). i managed to avoid ever

having my ticket checked and i checked later- the ticket would have

been almost $100 rather than my $7 Marc train ticket. But- this fast

fancy train goes all the way to NY so maybe I can sneak on and get to

NY in like 2 hours...?

Pretty ridic, just the way I like it.

Nothing is ever free

It's true. When will I finally learn this?? The week after Ultra had been tough. Getting up at the time I had been going to bed was making me exhausted. We'll let this be the blame for my clouded judgment. I decided at some point during the week that I was going to take AD's friend Miami up on his Strokes ticket. I am not a huge Strokes fan, but they did sell out Madison Square Garden and I felt like an offer to something like this couldn't be passed up. When I originally texted Miami, he said the ticket was $70. Then when I backed out he said that I could just buy him a couple beers. I agreed to this situation after he enticed me with the mention that he and his friends were going to be making an epic dinner beforehand. So that night, after stopping by the Euro Market to pick up a 6pack of Carlsberg, I headed to the address, which seemed to not be too far from the Port Authority bus terminal. What a crock. I walked about 8 blocks, with my arms ready to fall off from the 6pack. I finally arrived and though the friend's apartment was on the 36th floor, with floor to ceiling windows in the bedrooms, there was no dinner to be had. Or food anywhere. Just three guys and Miami sitting around watching baseball.
I was immediately not happy with this setup, as I hadn't eaten yet. I reluctantly drank a beer, but I was cautious to just have one, as I wasn't exactly trusting of Miami, whom I had met only once. He also seemed to think I was interested, or at least wanted to brag that I was. At one point in front of the guys Miami loudly stated how cool it was of me to "hit him up, out of nowhere". Yea sure. I played along, knowing my ticket was at stake. We stayed for a couple hours, and a few more of their friends showed up, including a group of hipsters. Every single person there except for one of the guys who lived there had gone to UMiami and knew each other. Luckily this guy had a bit of experience with Europe, so I chatted with him for pretty much the whole evening, as I can blab on about for hours if needed.
Lucky for me, on the way to MSG we grabbed slices of dollar pizza, which Miami was forced to pay for, as I had no cash. Once inside, we met more friends, and headed to our seats, which weren't bad. On the way I did buy Miami a ridiculously over-priced beer, as was the agreement. The concert was fun, not too long for me to get bored and Elvis Costello made a guest appearance which is good to brag about. Miami did insist on having his arm around me almost the entire time, and I was starting to not feel good about myself. Afterwards we regrouped. The plan was to go to a bar but for some reason it was decided that heading back to the apartment first was a good idea. Mostly everyone was wasted (I had been pacing myself as to stay on alert in case Miami tried to pull anything) and I knew this really wasn't going to be a successful outing. I hung around for a bit longer then decided it was time to head home, to avoid any other further unpleasant situations. On the way out one of the unsmiling hipsters girls looked at me and said "Bye it was SO much fun". I stared at her for a minute, confused as to why she was speaking to me, then realized she was trying to be a bitch. I rolled my eyes and opened the door. Miami insisted on escorting me all the way outside, then neither put me in a cab nor walked me to the subway. He then proceeded to blow up my phone for the next 5 days that he was in town. I had an excuse for every day. I justified this to myself; he usually only texted an hour before the invitation was about to take place. Despite this, we ended things on a friendly note and I'll never have to see him again.
The next day, on my walk to the subway from that fucking coffee shop, I recounted the night to my friend on the phone. It was extremely windy and we were having difficulties hearing each other. Suddenly I looked up--there was a giant bag of garbage careening wildly down the otherwise empty sidewalk. I stopped in my tracks, unsure of where it was headed. I watched it as it approached and dodged to the left. It suddenly shifted, heading straight towards me. I screamed and did a quick sidestep. It rolled by, narrowly missing running over my foot. I looked around embarrassed--had anyone seen me being chased by an unruly bag of garbage?? It appeared not. I resumed my conversation with my friend until I made it to the subway, on alert for any other rolling items.

Post-Ultra

I awoke confused--the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Charlie Kelly peeking his head in our door. I got out of bed self-consciously. I was in a 70's themed hotel room and still disgusting from the all-day festival I had attended the day before. No time to worry though, it was noon and we needed to get out. Charlie Kelly made a deal with us that we didn't have to pay him for the hotel room if the three of us girls split the remaining whiskey he had in his water bottle. Right, guy. We were able to hail a cab immediately, in stark contrast to a few hours earlier. We drove by the park where Ultra had been held and I was almost heartbroken. We briefly contemplated standing outside the gates shouting "one more day!". We got back to the boys' car and they drove us back to our glamorous airport hotel. We said our good-byes and Charlie Kelly and I mentioned perhaps regrouping in NYC (he happened to live there as well).

The rest of the day was spent by the pool. AD and I mananged to get ridiculously burned and looked like jackasses. That night we went out for a ceviche spoon dinner and to my surprise the tuna was amazingly delicious. We then met up with AD's friend, whom we'll call Miami, who she had been trying to meet up with all weekend. He took us to a lame, surburban bar and I was bored. He talked about his multiple businesses (apparently he is an "entreprenuer"). He did say he was going to be in NYC later that week and had an extra ticket to see the Strokes, if I was interested. An enticing offer....

The next day was our last day. MM had an earlier flight so AD agreed to come with to an art show being held in a botanical garden that I had read about. We arrived and it was awesome and comical. There were sculptures of all types of animals--sheep, cows, rabbits--placed right in the middle of this lush, Florida landscapes. The plaquards listed their names in French, which added to the amusement. As we wandered around, taking in the scenery (we were by far the youngest people there), we came across an adorable little white bird. He kind of resembled a stork, but much smaller. He came right up to us as we took pictures and cooed. He started twisting his long neck from side to side and we were even more amused. But he kept it up and it started to seem sinister. Then his spread his feathers out and walked quickly towards AD's legs, his sharp little beak much too close for comfort. We screamed. AD stood perfectly still and I of course did exactly what you are not supposed to do. Turned and ran as fast as I could. If that bird were a rhino I would've been dead. Same with one of the raptors from Jurassic Park, which he was starting to quickly remind me of. And he wasn't finished. A few minutes later, in a completely different part of the park, I head AD yell "holy fuck!". I looked and that bitch bird had popped up again, out of nowhere. He charged, we screamed and I took off again. Luckily we were able to enjoy the rest of the exhibit but bitch bird had shaken us both.

So Miami and Ultra were finished. I reflected on this as I sat in the airport awhile later. I had been texting with the kid from Tiesto (codename Dennis Reynolds) all weekend, in case he was up to anything good. I sent him a final text to see if he had had a good flight back to NYC that morning. He texted back saying that he was still in Miami; his flight had been cancelled. He then asked what gate I was at. Despite this creepiness, I looked around and there he was. I had thought the kid in the neon sunglasses looked familiar. Turns out we were on the same flight. We chatted about the weekend until we were ready to board. A funny coincidence.

On the bus from LaGuardia back to my apartment, I had a hippie run-in. He sat next to me and asked me a question about where the bus went that I couldn't answer. I thought I detected a BO smell coming from him but he was actually really cute, even for a hippie. We chatted for awhile--turns out he had been at Ultra as well, and before that South by Southwest and before that I couldn't really gather from his rambling. Now he was in New York (to live?) to play in his band and he was "staying with some chick in the East Village". Then mid-sentence he took out his cell phone (which I suspected was a pay as you go) dialed a number and began to very loudly discuss his current situation with a friend. Lots of sentences like "Fuck yea man" and "shit come out and see our show". Luckily at the point my stop was coming up so I exited the bus leaving hippie behind me. I entered my apartment and was immediately depressed to be back. And this is when the week and a half of texts and emails about missing Ultra began between MM, AD and myself. Ultra=Success.

Ultra Part 3

So Chemical Brothers turned out to be ridiculous. The lights were seizure-inducing. I don't know what people who were on drugs were doing with themselves and MM and AD couldn't tell me, since the ecstasy they had purchased from a stranger turned out to be speed (surprise!). The brothers joined us for the set--going with the It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia theme, we'll call them Mac and Charlie Kelly. Afterwards we stumbled with the masses through the gates of Ultra. I was covered in dirt, sweaty and barely able to stand but I had had an amazing time. We walked with the boys to the parking garage where there car was parked so they could grab a bottle of booze before we headed to a bar in South Beach. On the way there we walked past McPoyle and co.'s hotel and saw a few of their crew standing out front. We rushed quickly past and somehow eluded them. Once inside the garage I started to feel like shit. I hadn't had anything to drink all day to avoid the hellish porta-potties and dehydration was fast ensuing. I needed a bathroom stat. To avoid embarrassment, AD told the boys I was going to puke while I ran around like a mouse in a maze, trying to find my way out of the parking garage. I ended up literally running into a hotel lobby to use the bathroom. Terrible. When I emerged I still felt pretty shitty (baha) but I knew I had to man up so we hopped in a cab to South Beach. The extrememly rude Cuban cabbie blasted Pitbull (my new fave song) the entire time we were in the cab. We made it to the bar they had in mind but it was closed. We walked what felt like 3 miles down the strip to go to a classy place called Wet Willies, where they serve every variety of frozen daquiri one can imagine. I drank water. After, I thought the night was over, but it was only just beginning. I thought Charlie Kelly was kidding when he suggested we go to one of the hotel bar's pool parties. It turned out to be more of a joke when they actually let us in--5 disgusting, dirt-covered people--2 on speed, 1 on E (Mac), 1 wildly dehydrated, and the ringleader Charlie Kelly leading us past the bouncers. There we were--the most underdressed people in the place, but why let it bother us. We headed straight for the dancefloor and pushed our way in the middle of done-up girls in cocktail dresses and heels and the guys surrounding them. So my theory holds true--nights that are unexpected or when you look terrible usually turn out to be the best. We danced and by this point I was healthy enough to have a couple drinks. AD had had more than a couple and kept yelling "I want his denim chicken in my denim chicken!" in regards to Charlie Kelly. WHAT a metaphor. At roughly 5:30 in the morning we decided it was time to leave. But we were going out with a bang--Charlie Kelly had a plan, to dive into the pool in the middle of the place, which was a faux-pas. He quickly took off his shoes and shirt, emptied his pockets, handed everything to Mac (I have never seen anyone's pupils so large btw) and before anyone could stop him dove off the bridge into the water. It was surprisingly anti-climactic. Instead of being escorted out by bouncers, when he emerged he simply walked out with us trailing behind. On to our next mission--find a cab. Fail. We wandered around South Beach for an hour with no luck. Finally the boys decided that instead of deal with it they were getting us a hotel for 6 hours. Because that's reasonable. I was immediately sketched out but what could I do? It turned out to be awesome--it was called the Pelican and it was so Miami. All the rooms had different themes, for example ours was 70's and the boys' was wonder woman. It was tiny and had a rooftop with a view of the ocean (and an empty hottub). The girls and I discovered this on our exploration--the boys had already passed out. By the time we returned to our room it was 7AM and we were worn out. We squeezed into the bed for our 5 hours of sleep. To be continued....

Ultra Part 2

We woke up a few hours later to MM's arrival and sent McPoyle packing. A couple hours after that I decided it was time to rouse everybody so we could head to Ultra. I put on my neon pink bra and my infamous Deutschland granny panties under my outfit so I could feel festive. After waiting out the line to get in we headed straight for Fedde Le Grand, who is one of my favorite dj's. His set was amazing but so loud that afterwards I felt like I had cotton shoved in my ears for three days. This also began the tradition of lines of people trying to push through the crowd using us as their thoroughfare. We must look like easy targets because it seemed like every single person at Ultra who needed to get in or out of the crowd made a beeline straight for us. It got a little irritating after awhile, I won't lie. We met up with McPoyle and co. after the set. They were decked out in cowboy hats and looked like massive d bags (except for attractive Bachelor of course who was wearing a Syracuse lacrosse jersey). We watched part of Armin Van Buuren's set with them (instead of Moby's which I was not pleased about) and I won't lie my throat got a little tight when Armin dedicated his set to the victims of the Love Parade in Germany last year. I was pleased with my Deutschland underwear decision. Even more so when I spotted a group of attractive young Germans waving their flag a bit later. I debated then ran up to them and pulled up my skirt to reveal the infamous undies. One gave me a disapproving look, which I thought odd. Oh well--I posed for a pic in front of the flag. When finished the one came up to me--"We are not German, we are Belgian", pointing to the flag. I then realized that the stripes were going the wrong way and this was in fact a Belgian flag. Shit, I was the stereotypical idiot American. I was so embarassed that instead of sticking around to chat with the attractive Europeans I quickly ran off. I'm still kicking myself for not playing this off like I should have--I missed my chance to potentially have a young European boyfriend for the weekend. We then headed over to watch Cut Copy (amazing) and Empire of the Sun (whack) with McPoyle and Samson, who was wasted again. He had his catnose back on and was walking around high-fiving everyone. Seriously everyone. AD quickly made friends with an attractive young Mexican named Ernesto. Unfortunately the girls that Ernesto was with were not pleased about this, even though one of them was seriously the prettiest girl I've ever seen. He stuck it out with us though and became part of our crew until Deadmau5's set, where AD grew suddenly sick of him. And no, I did not threaten to fight Deadmau5, even though to be honest I wasn't that pleased with his set. I also grew so hot during it that I took off my shirt and walked around in my neon bra for the rest of the night. No biggie, until I had to fend off grabby McPoyle who had turned his attentions elsewhere after AD became occupied with Ernesto. I was not pleased. But before leaving Ultra for the night I made everyone come with me to watch Sasha's set, which in my opinion was the best at Ultra. I was pumped and danced my ass off, neon bra and all. Afterwards we walked back to McPoyle's hotel with promises of a big night out. Norris greeted us at the door, holding an entire cake and eating it with his hands. Miley Cyrus's Party in the USA was blaring from ipod speakers on repeat. One of the boys walked up to me and gave me a kiss on the mouth. Big night indeed. Realizing that none of these people were going to be able to get themselves together enough to come up with a game plan for the night, I hopped into an empty spot in a bed, next to one of the boys I hadn't met yet. I was so sick of standing I didn't even care. Eventually a plan was made to head down to the hotel pool. Awesome. My hopes for an after-party were dashed. I perched on the edge of the hottub annoyed that it would not be at all appropriate for me to remove anymore clothing than I already had. Luckily Bachelor came to chat with MM and me (McPoyle had resumed his focus on AD). He told us that most of them were in med school, including Samson who was studying to be a...wait for it....heart surgeon. We were horrified. "Imagine seeing him before going under", MM said. We turned to watch him grab his crotch then proceed to sink clumsily into the hottub, with his eyes focused straight ahead and unblinking the entire time. Soon after we made the decision to head back to rest up for our last day at Ultra. We slept entirely too late the next day and I missed seeing one of my favorite dj;s, whom I have never seen. I try not to think about it too much. I also made a fatal mistake in not wearing my gold leggings this day, which I also kick myself for. But we watched an awesome set by Ferry Corsten, and two terrible ones by Steve Aoki and Crystal Castles. McPoyle had been texting AD non-stop all day but because of their failure to provide us with any fun the night before we convinced her to ignore them. MM had a backup for us--a kid she had recently hooked up with and his brother were at Ultra. We met up with them--the four stood in a circle and chatted about people they knew while I stood to the side and felt like a 5th wheel. This apparently piqued someone's interest, as a large man grabbed my ass and blew me a kiss as he walked by. Enough is enough--I coraled them into a tent to watch ATB's set which was pretty amazing. We then headed over to the main stage for the Chemical Brothers--the last set of the last night. To be continued....

Ultra Part 1

So we left off with me waiting anxiously in our hotel room for AD's arrival. She showed up and we almost immediately hopped in a cab to get to Ultra ASAP. On the way out of the parking lot we spotted two boys who also looked like they may be going to Ultra walking by. We yelled to them to get in our cab so we could split the cost. They ended up to be two Canadians with braces and paid for the ride. Good find. We walked with the masses of people up to the gates and were greeted with one of the longest lines I have ever seen. This was just the start to our weekend of line-waiting. I knew Ultra was going to be packed but I never imagined just how much. While waiting for about a half hour there was plenty of amazing people watching--neon everywhere, tutus, and sunglasses apparently were a requirement. We finally made it in and ran around like chickens with our heads cut off. We drank a beer, were able to see one song of Benny Benassi's then decided to head to the porta-potties before the night got going. Horrifying. Just absolutely terrible. Instead of massive lines like everywhere else it was a giant clusterfuck of people. When a door opened the crowd would push forward, battling against the people who were trying to get out of the clusterfuck. It was a mess and at one point I thought I was going to die. I'm amazed we stuck it out. The only slight positive thing I took away from that experience is the kid in front of us in line guessed that I was 19. Amazing. Luckily after that shithow we were able to see three more solid dj's that night--Royksopp, Trentemoller and Tiesto. I had seen Trentemoller in Hamburg and of course kept texting my two baby friends that I had gone with, being super onboxious. I also had a mystery boyfriend at this set. While dancing (and for the record I am a horrible dancer) I kept feeling a presence behind me. I would turn around and to find a guy behind me but I couldn't tell if he was trying to dance with me or just kept bumping into me. I decided not to look at him just in case, since I didn't really feel like dancing with anybody. This continued for the remainder of the set. When we left to head to Tiesto, I finally turned around. A not-horrible looking guy, giving me a "what up" look. I chuckled, decided to leave it at that and keep walking. AD then informed me that he was dancing super close behind me but not touching me at all and she couldn't stop laughing. We also made a new friend during the Tiesto set. He was from NYC and we exchanged numbers, just in case. After the show let out we found Le Canard and Ginger to see if we could bum a ride home. They were decked out--Le Canard in a lightup gold mask and Ginger in a crazy little outfit and a jester's hat. This was also AD's first time meeting them. She immediately decided that she wanted to try and meet up with her friend (whom we later christened with the name McPoyle) to get some food. I agreed since I was ready to start gnawing my own arm. I hadn't had a thing to eat since the "delicious breakfast" that morning. Trying to get food was an epic failure. Downtown Miami is like a ghost town--the only thing open was a Checkers with a line 50 people deep that was not moving. We gave up and I was soon very, very grumpy. I ended up buying a $6 box of cheez-its from McPoyle's hotel lobby and devoured it sulkily. We went up to their room for some reason and were greeted by roughly 12 guys. McPoyle was apparently in town for a bachelor party. My mood improved. They were absolutely ridiculous--all super Southern and with names to match. A sampling--Tucker, Norris, Sanford (aka Samson). Outrageous. For some reason I happen to think groups of guys are hilarious. This one didn't fail me--offering each other hj's, running around in their underwear making gay jokes. I think I'm really a 15 year old boy at heart. In the middle of all of this AD and I heard a terrible yelling. I assumed it was one of them until we quickly realized it was much more sinister. An angry Cuban guest, screaming at the top of his lungs for them to be quiet. "MY WIFE AND I NEED SLEEP, WE DESERVE TO SLEEP!!" repeated over and over. I immediately ran in the bathroom to hide, in case things got any more out of hand. Luckily they did not. At this point we decided to move things to a bar down the street. Probs the one bar in downtown Miami, and how fitting, an Irish pub (?). About half of us headed there and sat around a table filled with bud lights. McPoyle was immensely focused on AD so I made small talk with the others. The Bachelor also happened to be one of the most attractive men I have ever seen. For entertainment we had Samson--he was for some reason outrageously wasted and wearing a plastic cat's nose on his face. I almost died when at one point he walked up to the bartender and yelled right in her face "PUT MY NOSE ON, DO IT!". A few minutes later he proceeded to fall down, somehow knocking over the bench in the booth behind him. Bachelor and another friend had to escort him out. Upon their return they reported that they couldn't carry him as he was incapable of walking. Bachelor was forced to go back to the hotel and ask for a wheelchair to get him back to the room. Classic. After a few more beers, AD and I grabbed a cab. McPoyle came with us since we had MM's empty cot in the room, and their room was pretty crowded. I was hoping to get a free cab ride for our hospitality but McPoyle didn't catch on. I fell asleep as AD received a text from MM saying that she was just getting to the airport for her 7AM flight. To be continued....

Pre-Ultra

The days leading up to Ultra were abuzz with activity and excitement. Texts were being sent back and forth with what to bring, who to see and my Eurotrip-style Northface backup was slowly being stuffed to the brim with bathing suits, neon and any other outrageous piece of warm weather apparel I could think of. Let me introduce the cast of characters. I was meeting my friend AD in Miami, who had been involved in the Deadmau5 travesty in Hamburg. We had also gone to another electro fest in NYC at the end of last summer so I knew we were on the same page. Her friend from school in Miami, MM, was also meeting us. We were going to be staying in a hotel (the exotic and glamorous airport Marriot) with a guy I went to high school with, Le Canard, and his friend whom we'll call Ginger.
The night before leaving I decided to treat myself to a mani/pedi (Astoria was infamous for cheap ones). The place I chose looked very nice, though they must not like it when people come alone--throughout the whole process they kept sitting me directly next to the girl I had just happened to walk in with. I don't think she was happy about it. My pedicure was fairly uneventful, besides my mild embarassment and annoyance when the lady decided to point out a toenail that had grown sligthly wonky. I was also trying very hard to ignore the guy working on the girl next to me--he was paying more attention to me than he was to her feet. During our manicures (because of course we were seated right next to each other in the otherwise empty salon), when he went grab her purse for her. Except he returned holding mine, beaming as he handed it to me. I guess I was getting my purse as well. Thanks, guy. As my woman was finishing up my nails she handed me the packet containing the file, clippers and stick thing and then got up and walked away. I was very confused. Was this a gift? I decided that it must be as I didn't know what the hell else to do with it. I stuck it in my purse. Once she came back I realized that the packet was sitting on the table of the girl next to me. It would look really bad if I took it out of my purse now so I sat there, praying to god that she didn't need anything out of it. Luckily she didn't and at the end I only had a $5 bill for tip so I gave her that (even though girl-next-to-me) slipped her guy a couple of ones. To be rewarded for this my post-mani massage involved a hot stone, while the other girl received about a 10 second patdown from my new boyfriend. I could feel her glaring at me. Once done I left quickly, still worried about the contraband in my purse. I walked home in hail and freezing rain to discover that my manicure was already chipping. My pedicure lasted about a week. Fucking place.

The next morning, I was all set to go. I was going to my internship for a few hours and then I was returning home to hop the bus to Laguardia. I realized quickly that this plan may very well fall apart when I checked my email at my internship. A frantic email from AD: "FUCK MY FLIGHT WAS CANCELED BC OF THE FIRE AT MIAMI AIRPORT". I thought I was off the hook since mine was still fine but this changed in a matter of minutes. Both MM's from Baltimore and mine were canceled as well. After being on hold with the worst airline in the world aka American Airlines for almost an hour, my only option was to fly out of JFK later that night into Palm Beach. AD was rescheduled for an afternoon flight the next day and MM got the shit end of the stick--she wasn't able to get out until 6 AM Saturday morning. Let's just say the rest of that Thursday was not a pleasant day for any of us. I did manage to make my flight and it actually turned out to not be so bad. One of the workers must have felt bad when I tried to check in-- the only seats left on the plane cost extra money. He walked me right up to the ticket counter, skipping the massive line of angry Dominicans, late for their flight to Santo Domingo, and was put in a seat in the front row, free of charge. My flight was on time and I was able to watch the Jersey Shore on the in-flight TV.
I had persuaded Le Canard and Ginger (whom I had never met) to pick me up from Palm Beach. I will state right now that I'm so grateful to them for doing so; it was super nice. They had a car since they had driven (yes DRIVEN) from Syracuse to Miami. They were about an hour and a half late picking me up. I streched out on a bench outside the arrivals area, enjoying the warmth and very aware that I looked homeless. By the time they arrived it was almost 2AM. I was the only person left in the airport and they were both hopped up on god knows what. I buckled up in the backseat and eyed the pizza box next to me. Unfortunately it was over 24 hours old, which was my limit. Electro blasted from the speakers (yes actual speakers that they had brought, circa roughly 1996) that were hooked up to the radio in the car. Once arriving at the hotel I collapsed into the king bed that I had all to myself. I slept fitfully that night, anxious for the next day.
I called the boys in the morning and we decided to go to a Cuban place next door to the hotel. A delicious place called Sabor Latino. I treated myself to the "delicious breakfast". The name was fitting--beans, cheese, plantains, corn tortilla, eggs with salsa and STEAK with freshly-squeezed orange juice and Cuban coffee, which is apparently hot cream with espresso. Fuck yes. Miami I have arrived. I was set on getting tan so I told the boys I was going to spend the day by the pool and was relieved when they decided not to join me. But I was bored by the pool and it was hotter than I thought it would be (not surprising as I had just experienced a 40 degree temperature difference). I also had a pretty embarassing moment--the guy next to me was on the phone talking about how his flight to NYC had been canceled. I decided to inquire about this, even though I rarely approach guys I don't know. "Hey did you say tha", I started and was cut short as he answered his phone. He hadn't heard me. But I know the people on the other side of me did, as they were staring at me when I turned back around. I sank into my chair and pretended to fall asleep.
Crunch time. AD was scheduled to get in soon and we were going to have to head straight to Ultra as we had already missed most of the afternoon. I showered, changed into my hammer pants and half shirt and waited. To be continued.....

More Euro Background...

Now the weekend coming up is truly epic--Ultra Music Festival. This is a giant electro music fest in Miami and I fucking went. It was as ridiculous as it sounds. But first there are two stories from my time in Germany last year that need to be told so that Ultra can be truly appreciated.

The first: Deadmau5. For those of you living under a rock, he is a pretty popular DJ right now known for wearing a giant mousehead and sometimes passing out halfway through his sets. A couple months into my semester in Hamburg a group of us had tickets to go see him. This also coincided with the visit of two of my dear friends from DC--AD and ED. And this coincided with a particularly low point for me. All the partying and not sleeping had really started to take it's toll on me. I had a pesky girl problem which would not go away and I was paranoid that it was something much more sinister (obviously not the case). I was eating nothing but the occasional doner box, about 15 yogurts a day and to counteract that, drinking nothing but beer. I also had a sneaking suspicion something was going on underfoot with the stupid French guy I was dating (surprise I was right!). So this was not a good mix and led to my worst showing while in Europe.

So before the show a bunch of us met at our German friend's apartment in Borgweg to eat dinner and have some biers. I was probably late enough that I missed dinner, though I don't really remember. Either way I wasn't eating much. I started the night off with some Swedish cider, which I was overjoyed to find at the airport shop, since it was my favorite from my trips to Sweden. I then moved on to Carlsberg Elephant, which is about double the amount of alcohol as regular beer. After awhile we all walked to the U-bahn to take the train to St.Pauli. I had to pee (as is my life story) so walked to end of the track and popped a squat. Once on the train I apparently began to yell at strangers. I was amazingly let into Docks, the club where the show was. Once it started I remember really liking it, although I missed 75% of it--I was pretty busy making out with the stupid frenchy the entire time. Dmau5 only played for about an hour and a half and when he stopped I was pissed. Actually livid. The cider, the Carlsberg Elephant and whatever else I had drank was not a good mix and I was suddenly the beligerent fraulein. I began to yell about how much I hated him and how I was going to kick his ass. I actually walked up to the DJ booth looking for him so we could fight. Someone dragged me away and as we were waiting in line for our coats I suddenly turned my anger on Germany. I began to yell about how much I hated it, how terrible it was, which I do not and did not at all think is true. Though in my defense I had just finished dealing with a terrible German doctor, who did nothing to help me. And this is all in front of German friend's German friends. I'm sure I impressed them. So much so that when we exited out onto the Reeperbahn I was promptly left by everyone in our party, including frenchy, and was left with one of my baby friends who was almost as beligerent as I was. We somehow made it back to our apartments at Berliner Tor and I was pretty damn embarassed when I had to face everyone the next day.

Second story: the World Cup
Fast forward a couple of months and Germany is doing quite well in the World Cup. Hamburg had a public viewing of all the games on a giant screen in an empty field in St.Pauli. Of course we went to the majority of them and there was no way anyone was missing this game--Deutschland v. England, notorious rivals. I planned to show my support by sporting a pair of black, red and yellow granny panties with "Deutschland" written across the ass that I had found at the grocery store. My original plan was to wear them over leggings but when I woke up (hungover) the morning of, it was an ungodly temperature out. I decided to wear them under a dress and be secretly supportive. My Aussie friend and I headed to the field late and were greeted by the biggest crowd we had ever seen. We pushed our way to the spot where we were supposed to meet German friend (and his German friends). On the way I was manhandled by some old, drunk German men which was pretty terrifying. We miraculously found them and Germany ended up winning the match by a landslide. The crowd went nuts and to join in the celebration I whipped up my dress to flash my undies to German friend and his German friends (and also frenchy and his stupid frenchy friends who had joined us a bit later). It was a hit. Everyone laughed and pictures were taken and I was in no way embarassed.
We continued the celebration with the rest of the crowd down the Reeperbahn. It was madness--people and flags everywhere and carhorns going non-stop. After a bit we pushed our way down a sidestreet to get to another block which was a little less crowded. We were standing on a corner, watching the cars filled with fans drive past and debating where to go when German friend said he would buy me a beer if I flashed the undies again. Never one to turn down a challenge, I complied. We waited for the right target and spotting a convertible filled with men, I turned lifted my dress, and shook my Deutschland enscribed butt at the car while Aussie friend captured it on video. There was cheering as everyone in the car turned their heads to watch my show. We almost had a heart attack. Aussie friend of course posted this video to facebook the next day and no one could believe that I did something like this completely sober. A true Deutschland supporter, this one.