You just can't make a left turn from NE 2nd Avenue. It would be illegal. I know this now, though at the time it seemed like it was conducted slowly enough. Melissa knows this and we also know that on Tuesday nights a very nice and gorgeous lady tends bar at Stop Miami and that they stock La Fin du Monde for you to enjoy. Can I get an "amen" for large black police officers who are equal parts menacing and nice? Praise the express baby! But here's where it actually gets worse: on our way from the Wynwood unpleasantries to pick up Chazzie from his job we encountered "the slowly disappearing highway" and about half of Miami out for a spin. Melissa was getting angry cuz she needed to go somewhere and when I tried to console her she snapped back with, "I'm bargaining with Jesus!" Then she exclaims that she wants to go outside and start punching the vehicles out of the way. Anger. Colossus. And finally, relief... cuz when the highway reappeared, we gunned the Datsun into the high 80's and kept the pavement out of our mouths! Once Chazzie and Melissa got their drops I had to endure Melissa's favorite actor, Tom Hanks, make some horrid jokes on the Leno show about what a regularly nice kinda guy he is or some such shit. Then Jesse showed up to assist me and Chris L on some much needed shenanigans.
And what greater shenanigan on a Tuesday night that does not involve rollerskating? Fox's 2-4-1! But first, some previews at Chris L central where we discovered a new drink and a hot feline who got her rub-on on all our legs. Cat scratch feverishly. The new drink is the "Dark Continent Russian" -- or in the way water enters stone and we like to call White Russians, "Caucasians," the DCR, will henceforth be known as the "South African." Delicious and in case you're tempted, they don't serve them at Fox's. Yet.
So off to Fox's where we made all kinds of new friends and reacquainted ourselves with some old. Shout-outs: Teebs! Gordy! Lisi! Tim! Paul! And new pals Beth (be careful with Pegs), Giselle (you said you'd come back and you left with an afro baby, I'm miffed), Matt (27!), and the weird guy who's known Jesse for a month and swore they were in a "relationship." What a wastoid. And Chris L asked for some water and they gave him some gasoline! It was good times fucking around with some of his old students, specially Madras' shorts... but whatever, cuz when they cut the indie pop at 2:00 am, you know you gotta get on down to the Boug where I had the delicious pleasure of bumping into the ever so fabulous Veronica C. and had some nice drinks before the last call was made, but our newest and bestest of all pals (and buyer of shots if I might add) and most certainly a slowly turning slow turner, Carrie, hooked it up with some savory Jägers... oh baby, good times. The party tried to continue on its merry way to Corbett's, but somewhere between the station and the dumping grounds we thought it best to deliver Jesse and Chris L to their homes and me to some form of rest... but the phone rang and the caller wasn't on the d-dial and we talked and talked and talked and everything felt pretty good after a while. It's gonna work out cuz Jesse managed to get the S.C. into my voice mail while I was on the line.
For all the hatreds that might've crept up during the night's follies -- for the suicide was readying itself, know this much turners: someday they'll all swing for the crime.
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