Winter Party in Miami

I always have a bit of hesitation when planning a return trip to a vacation destination. There’s the fear that it won’t live up to the previous year. With Miami’s Winter Party being a highlight of 2005, I was afraid this year’s event would pale in comparison. Would everyone decide to go? Would the weather cooperate? Would eating French food ruin my abs? Fortunately, Winter Party 2006 once again proved to be an amazing weekend with close friends, pounding music, incredible weather, impressive eye candy and missed romps through Walgreen’s.

The majority of us stayed at the Clinton Hotel on Washington. It wasn’t our first choice, but booking late pushes you to select what’s available. The lobby smelled like urinal cakes. The concierge/bellman was loud. The gym comprised of a universal machine nestled in an adjoining building’s attic. But in the end, it served its purpose – providing clean and comfortable sleeping quarters in between the pool and beach parties. On Sunday, Chris and I transferred to the Victor Hotel for a bit of quiet after the storm. The Parisian designed hotel by Hyatt is more in line with what we prefer. The rooms were elegant. The service was impeccable. And you have to appreciate the classiness of being able to view the Oscars outside, under the stars, with a cool ocean breeze on your face as you watch in enjoyment as Dolly struts her stuff on stage. Now, if only the Academy voters would have finally recognized her for her contribution to feature films. Don’t’ they remember 9 to 5 and Small Talk?

And though the parties themselves were great (especially Sunday’s beach party), the true reason to travel thousands of miles to these events is to spend time with close friends. That’s exactly why we didn’t go to Thailand as originally planned. I needed my time with the boys. This way, if the DJ is horrible, the weather is bad, and other elements don’t suffice, it truly doesn’t matter. Memories are made on the dancefloor (“not interested”), while eating on Lincoln Road (“Let me tell you a tale of a salad”), at Mike Stake’s house (the lemon who’s fate was sealed by my clumsiness), and at the liquor store (riding an ice cart).

It was a special weekend. As many say, Miami never seems to disappoint. But what about next year? I’m already counting the days.

Shots on the fly always capture the essence of the subject. With Dave and Paddy, they're both happy and bring much joy to our lives. No, really, they do!

The poor, poor lemon whose time had come to fall from the tree and join a few granules of sugar for a swim in an 8 oz. glass of water.

Whether it was the "salad" or "bloody wall" story, nobody apparently wanted to hear Robert's tales. "I don't want to hear that!"

Jason Walker performed at the beach party. You'd think it was a large black woman if you weren't tall enough to see him. And considering he's only about five feet tall, most at the event swear Pepper Mashay was in the "house."

Sharing a Chicken Burrito, Beef Chimichanga and Cheese Enchilada with our new Parisian friends Dimitri and Bruno at El Rancho Grande off Lincoln Road. It was so good, Chris and I returned the following night for round two of Mexican food.