Lord of Laziness
Registered: May 2001
Location: Over there
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| Winter Music Conference 2005: Thursday
Tangerine is less like a club or lounge and more like a big living room with tables and a bar in another room. By the time we drag our cracky asses there, the party is already in full swing. The entire Boston crew is there along with a bunch of the usual suspects from everywhere else. Before I have a chance to put on my party hat, Miami's Party Pooper Patrol shows up to piss on everyone's parade. Apparently, there were open containers of booze around after last call. Fortunately, they don't shut the party down permanently or haul anyone off to jail. The party will be allowed to restart several hours later.
So, with time to kill, we rendezvous with the rest of the troops at the Marlin for the Decks Benedict afterhours. Before long, everyone and their mothers are there. Turns out to be quite a fun party. Seems like just about every local hero and industry head winds up staggering into this shindig. Damian Lazarus is the standout DJ, much like at most of the other parties he'd been spinning at this conference. The Marlin was getting hotter by the minute…and I don't just mean that as a lame-ass endorsement of the quality of the party (I've got better adjectives than that). Once the brutal Miami sun was shining full force, the place became a sweatbox.
Since heat stroke isn't on my itinerary for the morning, I round up some GN'ers who are still standing and trudge back to Tangerine. By now, the party is back on. Feet are stomping, the jam is pumping, the crowd is jumping…Well, not really jumping. More like lounging around enjoying their drinks and the music. The usual depravity ensues when you get all these degenerates together in one room with music, booze and other stuff. Just about every DJ in the room takes a turn at the decks. We have us a real Spin Off between the Boston locals and the NYC ones. Agent 001, Groovefire, Joe Mama, Gaby from Astro & Glyde, Dennis Rodgers and a bunch of others are going head to head. The girls are going crazy, dancing around in wild outfits, tutus and bathing suits. Bons is walking around in a mullet wig. Lloyd Alvarez is parading around in a bathrobe and slippers. Highlight of the party is Jen Lasher tagging with Kares. I'd only heard Kares spin briefly once before. By the end of the party, she definitely steals the show…the fact that she is wearing a corset and booty shorts doesn't hurt either.
Eventually, Ben Lost bounces in. As we're slouching in the back shooting the shit with Ashley Caselle, this Amazonian beauty wearing nothing more than a skimpy knit bikini sees Ben and rushes over. "OH MY GOD!" she squeals with delight. "You're just the CUTEST little British man I've ever seen!" Since I'm almost as scrawny as Ben, I kick my fake British accent into full effect. She warms up to me a bit as well. When the party finally wraps up around 3pm, she talks us into coming along to an after-afterparty at either a small boat or some house. There wasn't much arm twisting involved. Before your minds race off into the gutter, I must add…by this point she introduced herself and her boyfriend, Los Angeles DJ Shawn Collins. Since by now, going anywhere near a boat might result in a drowning death, we opt for the house.
For whatever reason, rather than going straight to the house, we wind up trecking up and down SoBe in the blazing sun, losing stragglers along the way. The only thing I remember from the whole ordeal is that we needed to pick up some "supplies" from my hotel, records from another and somehow wind up meeting someone at a rooftop hip-hop party. As we walk down Washington Ave, Michaela the Amazon causes a traffic jam and a few near accidents. She's about 6 feet tall, blonde, tan, wearing a skimpy bikini and shaking her ass intentionally because she knows just how sexy she is and that the whole of South Beach is watching. As she walks, there is a tidal wave of turning heads and a deluge of hushed smack talk from all the women. Michaela is enjoying every minute of it…as are we.
Eventually, we have all our shit together and we hop in a cab to the house. The house winds up being WAY the fuck out there, past downtown. The house also winds up being not so much a house as a mansion like you'd imagine Colombian drug lords would keep as their Miami playground, replete with tennis court, pool and marina. A bunch of other LA DJs are there. Shawn hops on the decks while Ben and I make ourselves at home by the pool. After a few drinks and some "pick-me-ups," Ben calls and invites Ashley over. We're having a grand old time chilling with the hosts, who graciously took us in and made tropical drinks. As the day ends, everyone gets ready to head back to SoBe. Just as we get ready to leave, Ashley finally shows up. Doh! Ben and I climb into his cab and the three of us turn it around and head back to SoBe.
As we get to Washington Ave, the guys decide to stop by Zabiela's room before heading to BED for Howells. It hits me just then that I have a 9am job interview the next day (a friend tried to get me a job in Miami). Since I hadn't slept for several days by now, it might be a good idea to get some shut-eye before interviewing for a Senior Management position at a big international technology firm. So, I skip out on the festivities and head back to my hotel. I wind up laying in bed most of night unable to sleep. I might as well as have gone to Howells. Eventually, I doze off for about an hour or two.
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"Tresor never sleeps"
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