South Beach Miami is a whole other beast. Racist cab drivers, amazing Cuban food and coffee, fancy clubs, dive bars and no last call. It's kinda crazy. I am a Miami virgin and I had high hopes. I wanted to meet Pitbull and Gloria Estefan at the same time and pitch to them the idea that they should collaborate. Said project would be called the Pitbull and Gloria Against the Miami Sound Machine and it would be a great success. But that didn't happen. What did happen is that my friends and I took way too many selfies, drank tons of Moet, and looked at a shit ton of art. I ended up jumping on my friends bed while my husband passed the fuck out and I coined the term, "This is a bed jumper." Here is how to use it properly in a sentence: "Did you hear that new Pitbull and Gloria Against the Miami Sound Machine? It's a total bed jumper!" We also saw way to many stupid shirts. I mean, "Do you even lift bro?"
We did eat really good Cuban food at the local establishment called David's Cafe. The Cuban coffee is the stuff of dreams. I featured Tongue and Cheek because, to me, I felt like we were at home. It was a great brunch of steak and eggs, chicken and waffles and grits. If I wasn't facing the window and saw meatheads on Vespas, I totally would have thought I was in LA.
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