east coast hopping, part II

After beginning my month in the Big Apple, I was able to end it in a fortuitous twist at the opposite end of the coast in beautiful Miami!

April was a rainy month in Chicago - the rainiest April in more than 50 years, to be exact. And it was a cold month. Windy, unpleasant, and it snowed. Meanwhile Brian was in Miami for the whole month going to the beach every day while I withered away, so it's safe to say I was ready for a vacation that included him, sunshine, and relaxation. I wouldn't have gone to visit except (the magic word!) that my lovely friend Ashley had scheduled her bachelorette party for the last weekend in April...in Miami. Boom! That's what we in Texas call a two-fer.

I took a few days of beloved PTO to go down early and see Brian, go to his show, and obviously hit the beach. Happiness ensued.

Are you jealous of my awesome dolphin koozie?

There's not nearly enough boob in this picture

to accurately represent South Beach. But the water's nice!

View of Miami Beach from Brian's condo

After two days , I met up with the girls. One day I'm riding the city bus and drinking Tecate, the next I'm in a limo drinking champagne. The sign of a good weekend!

I have to say, for this bach we did it up right. Bottle service, aforementioned limo, more prosecco than my head cares to remember, pool time, spa time, dance time, and girl time.

Beautiful bride in the middle!

(bottom left)

This spa was increible.

Library books. Hot tubs. Chandeliers.

Crazy club LIV (top) and the outdoor patio/pool at Club 50 in our hotel (bottom)

After seeing two very different side of Miami, my general takeaway was similar to NY (minus the rats). The beach is awesome, of course. And the clubs were fun in that "I only go to these places in Mexico" kind of way. But oh my Lord everything is so expensive. And the cab drivers are rude. And house music proliferates in an unacceptable way. And remember how everything was so expensive? Right okay now double that. But I guess I dug the 1990s Birdcage feel, and if I was allowed to live on a strict diet of empanadas and cortaditos, then maybe we could talk.