The day started with patty somehow mobilizing at about 6.45 am. Ok ok, so not that early, but probably by 8.30 she was up and on the roof and doing work. Once 10.30 struck, i was up and shortly thereafter we were on the beach for another beautiful sunny miamian day. The thing with laying on the beach though? You kind of get hungry for breakfast and realize there’s nothing around and you’re hot and kind of sunburnt (already? On my ankles? How did that happen), and the more you lay there the more you realize you dont want to have to go back into the ocean to pee (again) so you just decide at that point to go home.
In the quest for more avocados, we walked over to the local farmers market and stocked up on produce & flowers, wine and pita and went home to construct guacamole & patty’s fabulous pita chips.
A successful trip to the farmer's market!
Me (and my hair) getting very excited for homemade guac. How cute is P’s hair? I just cant get over it. It was talking to me the whole time saying, "let me out from behind these straight-hair bars! Please dont make me be ironed or blowdried. I want to frolic." patty allowed it to run around several times a day but then tried to tame it at night. Fuck that. Well, no. That sounds aggressive. I just love her curls. How could you not?!
Anyway, back up to the roof after polishing off our bottle of white wine. I somehow managed to also open our *bargain* $2.50 rose and brought some of that up to the roof as well. The water in that pool is always freezing but it felt ultimately refreshing being that it was so hot out and we were both slightly crisped on the edges (or so i assume... although i maintain that full sun damage did not occur until Sunday). Either way, we frolicked up on the roof for hours.
Annie channeling her inner third grader at summer camp.
I still can't believe the view from the rooftop pool.
Suddenly, it was 6.40. I dont know how it happened. We had managed to run 12 miles, swim 40 laps, and do pilates! Or not. In reality our day was leisurely and drunk. We cleaned up real nice to head over to wynwood for the 2nd Saturday events, which i had never been to but always wanted to go. Thankfully patty was more than excited in the prospect; we glugged some cheap free wine, ate cheese cubes, and saw some art that patty respectfully-but-snarkily derided as "illustrations." love it. Truthfully most of the art was crap, but it was fun to walk around the neighborhood and have all the galleries open- like chelsea, but before chelsea became so popular (i imagine).
We asked one gallery owner what we should see, and she pointed us to this thing. It was blue rubber-strings hanging from a larger frame that you could walk through, except after touching it, you could tell it was really, really dirty and gross, and black crappy dust was all over your hands.
Second Saturdays in the gallery district. This is considered Very Good Art, including the background guy who kindly posed with us.
The below is still Saturday night-continued– post a short stop in south beach where we considered going to dance at buck 15 but didnt want to wait for it to get crowded; ate cuban toast while walking on lincoln road; and then patty tried on dresses in american apparel. After getting home, we headed right back out to sandbar.
Oy. Many interesting offers were proffered that evening.
Many interesting offers indeed. We arrived at sandbar and patty got her local brew (brooklyn!!!! in the *house*) and i had a little summery wheatbeer. Before we retreated to a table by the window, the barmaid gave patty a brooklyn shirt. How cute is that? Not five minutes went by before we were approached by an odd looking fellow who asked if he could join us. Here is where it gets good. Patty insisted that he could only sit with us if he could contribute to the conversation. He offered that he would talk to us for 2 minutes, at which time we could decide whether he could sit down. (He was a pretty good bargainer, huh? Maybe he just liked her sass). I would make up a name for him but i dont even remember if he introduced himself before he started telling us how he was in town for calle ocho festival, and how he was staying nearby, and how he was from ny and in the moving business, number three contractor for the city, evictions, welfare, blah blah blah it was like he was bragging about it. Well, ok. He did fascinatingly tell us how to sterilize second-hand mattresses- you need to pull everything off the springs, DIP THE SPRINGS IN ACID, and then cover them up again with padding. Amazing huh? We were particularly enthralled. Actually though, i felt bad because patty was being very snarky and sarcastic to him, which i dont feel like i see enough of her-doing-so in person these days, (which i *loved*!) but i also felt like i had to be nicer to accomodate her spunk, which seemed like a total role reversal, but was entertaining nonetheless. After his 2 minutes were depleted, patty sent him on his way. Kindly, yes, but still sent him on his way.
Annie's hot back.
At that point, we moved over to the bar for more drinks. After we chatted for a while and enjoyed the juke-box selections, the bartender came over to deliver us a message: "the gentlemen over there would like to know if you ladies like mint chocolate chip ice cream. (Pause). If so, they would like to buy you a shot." we looked at each other in total confusion. Is that a pick up line? Or were they psychic, knowing that i had just eaten mint-chocolate-chip taste-delight down on lincoln road? We conferred with the bartend: he revealed to us that horrible truth you never want to acknowledge... if you let them buy you a shot, you kind of have to talk to them. Hmm. Although patty was still allowing the offer to settle, i figured it was a bad idea being that the two alleged "gentlemen" were leathery-faced older dudes who were doing something akin to leering from across the bar. After their shots were rejected, they again offered to buy us beers– but the bartend reminded us that if we gave in at that point, we would still be entrapped. So we again politely declined. (Everyone should have a bartender tell them things so honestly, huh?). my favorite part of this interchange was when patty asked the bartender, "but they’re not so age appropriate, are they?". to which he agreed, no, of course not.
Shortly thereafter, the guy on patty’s right (who had sadly been drinking miller light and doing jager shots all night alone) left and a couple took his spot. Ever being the social hostess, patty made new friends with the couple who also happened to live in the neighborhood. I somehow was accosted by a small gay southern flight attendant from continental who kept asking me, "who do you fly" (before i understood that he was a flight attendant) and i was like "what the hell is this guy talking about?". after spilling his drink all over my feet, he invited his pilot over to say hello- this big burly guy. Is this not getting weird? At this point, the two older-leather-faced men start yelling at us across the bar, "COME OVER HERE" or something akin to that, getting angry that we rejected their drinks but are now saying hello to random continental airline employees. Thankfully this interlude was short. The next time i turned around to talk to patty, she had been simultaneously approached by two *other* guys who both wanted to buy her drinks. What was weirder is that i couldnt tell if they were friends, or if they had just simultaneously decided to make a move. On my way back to the bathroom, i nearly sidestepped another offer of drinks from some random italians. All i can say is the male-to-female ratio in this bar was obviously a little off-skilter that night. Once patty turned back to her new couple-friends, the gay flight attendant reappeared and proceeded to fall flat on his face. Literally. On the floor. At which point we all suggested that maybe it was time he went home, which was followed by a more stern suggestion by the bartender.
Very cute couple we met at Sand Bar. Though the guy kept insisting on getting a photo with the dude in the white shirt.
By this point it had somehow morphed into 3am or 3.30 or something, and we still needed something more substantial for dinner than cheese cubes and cuban toast, and headed to ihop, always a regrettable choice (in my opinion) since its not like real diner food, and it always manages to taste the same no matter what you get. Our fajita burrito had really nothing to do with anything fajita in nature, just that it came with sour cream. Patty still managed to fashion the accompanying pancakes into a savory vehicle, which of course is one of the many reasons why i love her.
Sunday we managed to sleep "in", but not really, considering we werent in bed until about 4.30 or so. First thing we were suited up and on the beach. after getting nice & toasty, we decided to go into the ocean. The waves were very disagreeable with our decision to do so, and decided to slap us around a bit, rightly knocking out our sinus passages and physically washing the hangover right out of my head. The tide somehow managed to push us into this much deeper area where the waves were not as bad, but there were these old dudes fishing in that spot and their fishing lines were in our faces so we decided to swim in– that, and one of the old dudes on shore was yelling something at us. Once we got out, he warned us that we shouldnt be swimming there because we would get sucked into a "lake" and not be able to come out and that two people had died there last weekend. Really? I dont know, but it freaked us both out considerably. Then he said we looked like california girls. Really? really? We dried off and decided to head back home for some more guacy lunch on the roof and another swim in the pool.
This is the point where i definitely achieved sunburnness. I fell asleep on my face while a small child pretended to drown in the pool to get his mother’s attention: "AYUDA ME!". patty of course jumped into rescue the child who was faking and his mother didnt even batt and eyelash. patty was sufficiently angry not only that she jumped in, but because she got her sandals wet in the process. Plus, she later informed me that the very loud family that accompanied the faux-drowner also did not live in the building. Color me annoyed. This child continued to scream and be horribly loud for quite some time. Then my phone rang at the same time patty commented that it was already 4.20 and we had agreed to go to calle ocho that afternoon with my co-worker justin. We hurried downstairs, changed, and headed out to pick him up, get lost in little havana, and ultimately park in some dude’s backyard for $10.
The festival was much like you would imagine- lots of teenagers, music, lots of food. Our mission? Eat as much cuban food as possible. Consumed items included: chicken empanada, arepa, cuban sandwich, more arepas, and a pork sandwich. The cuban sammie won our hearts by a landslide. Then we managed to kidnap justin and take him to forever 21 so that p could get some pretty party dresses. Justin moderately behaved himself dressing up in ladies accessories and marveling that people over 21 not only worked in the store, but shopped in it. What? Its fabulous.
On the road again: we dropped justin off at his house, decided we needed one last jump in the pool; but then quickly decided it was too freezing at that point (not to mention it was 9.30pm). Patty lasted approximately 5 seconds although i seemed to find the frigid temp wholly soothing on the sunburn cripsy edges so i was able to stay in perhaps a minute. Then downstairs for some packing and arranging...
Now, im sure there have been important tidbits left out— like how we bumped into the mattress-disinfector from Saturday night at calle ocho and he grabbed patty’s arm so excited to see her; and like how we walked into my elevator and there were 4 very tall german men with lots of cologne on who said (as we entered) "Party Time." after no response from us, "Or maybe not Party Time." – but you know, this post is horribly long and i figure that patty will want to add more to it, so i will rest my case. It was a fabulous, exciting yet relaxing, ridiculous yet sensible visit. All the paradoxes happily accounted for.
2 comments:
I can't believe I missed a bar night like that. Well, done deal - I'm coming for July 4. And you have to promise me all the seafood and leather-faced guys buying drinks as I can handle. Party Time!
...or not party time? anne, every night would've been like that if you were there.
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