Okay so, if you guys are not familiar with this fact/have never seen Goodfellas, Florida, for people who live in New York, is the equivalent of "dying and going to Jew-Heaven." Yep...even in Jew Heaven there are Rick Ross Ghettos, more cops than people, and noisy college kids who park their jaguars in your designated parking spot-the last one's not a big deal because you can just have security tow their car at the risk of furthering your faith's stereotype.
Jew Heaven has its positives, however...for example, its beautiful, its always sunny, and there are more strip clubs than you've ever seen in your life. There are also hot ass college girls and, even though the bartenders/bouncers in The Grove are total douchebags, you can maybe arrive in time to have one conversation before settling on dropping 300 bucks for a lapdance elsewhere.
About a month ago, Florida had its varied benefits for me as well.
There was a girl from my highschool who, when I was in eleventh grade and she was in tenth, sat behind me in one of my classes and absolutely LOVED me. The catch was, she was pretty ugly, so naturally, I ignored the shit out of her. Then she moved to Tampa and, according to facebook, got smoking hot...but then a year passed and she got a boyfriend, and he remained around for another two years. It was back in late March, however, when I got a text from her:
"Hey Mikee...Guess what, I'm single!"
Well, it doesn't take a genius to wait for his tax rebate check to come in the mail and then use it to buy a plane ticket. The one problem is that this girl has become so smoking hot that, in the month and a half it took for me to finally buy this plane ticket, she got herself another boyfriend...exactly one week before my flight, to be precise.
Well, that's okay because I had another booty call. There was a girl who moved down to Florida for college last year that we went to highschool with named Durty. I call her Durty because she, well, matured sexually at the age of 14 and kinda worked up that reputation early. I can safely say though that in the last five years, including two years of warding off Beans's constant attempts to bang her, she has cleaned up significantly. Oh, and she was never ugly...and yes, I did bang her once about a year and a half ago, but I mean, it would have been awkward if I didn't bang her, it was one of those situations. Anyway, once again my luck fucks me over and, the week before my flight she, too, gets a fucking boyfriend.
Well with my two booty calls in relationships, I was happy that I could at least meet up with Joey. Now Joey was my best friend from 5th grade through 12th grade, when he decided to move to Florida "for college," but really to live with his rich dad. Now Joey's dad is the man; every time I go to Florida and Joey and I come back with girls, Joey's dad comes back with even more girls. The other thing about Joey's dad is that none of us have any idea what the fuck this man does for a living. He is essentially The Most Interesting Man In the World, and his living room is decorated with pictures of him with Presidents, yes that is ploral, PresidentS. There are pictures of Joey's dad shaking hands with both the Bush's, Clinton, Reagan, Carter, and even Ford...again, we have now clue what the fuck this guy does.
Well, Joey doesn't live with his dad anymore unfortunately. He now lives in a condominium complex with our friend from highschool, Babyface...Babyface and I used to be really close in junior high but we haven't talked much recently.
Now Joey does not go to school now, he never really did, but he actually manages a surf shop, after spending years as a mindless employee there. For that matter, Babyface does not go to school either, but he is hoping to re-apply next semester after taking about two years off...He graduated 15th in our highschool class. So right away, I don't even feel like a college student, I feel like a 20-something single guy bro-ing out in Miami for a weekend...which actually is not that bad of a thing.
So I get on my plane in New York and sitting on my left is a fat ass slob who just has an endless supply of candy in his seatback. Making this worse is that the fucker falls asleep right away and every fifteen minutes, basically on the dot, he elbows me in the fucking arm while sleeping. Don't ask me how I got through the flight without dropping money on booze.
So when I arrived at the airport, I had to wait about 40 minutes for Joey to come get me because the fucker drove to the wrong airport. But once he did arrive, we drove back to his place and he parked his car in what he thought was a guest spot...it actually belonged to some 80 year old Jewish guy who promptly had security tow it. Now one thing about Joey I forgot to say, he was born in Austria. Joey is incredibly foreign, and you'd probably never guess it at first glance, but Joey is essentially an Ellis Island Immigrant who came to this country in 1994. I'm saying, he will gladly enjoy life working for minimum wage, he cannot cook, cannot clean/do laundry, he dons American flags on numerous things he owns, and lastly, he does not trust himself to stand up to security officers who tow his car(Cops are another story). So Joey calls his father who assures us that he'll handle it.
With that out of the way, Joey and I walk to Chillies where he starts pounding Long Island Iced Teas...that's just what he does now. So I start doing the same and we are hammered by 8pm, when we decide to get an 18pack and walk back to the condo...keep in mind, this entire community is Old and Jewish beyond repair, we are the only young kids and we garnish such hatred onto the faces of everyone else wherever we go.
So after a while of drinking, Babyface comes home from work and we decide to head down to The Grove, which, if you guys are not aware, are the main college bars for FIU, UMiami, and whatever other schools are around there. Now I love college bars, but when they are so crowded that you wouldn't be able to have a conversation anyway, they kinda suck.
So the three of us head over to a bar I go to every time I'm down there, whose name I still don't know, but they have beerpong tables set up. Now, in case you guys are not aware, I am the best beerpong player I know, so I sign up me and Joey for a game and go to get a pitcher of beer. The catch is, the bartenders may have been the biggest douchebags on the planet: one was talking to two girls, not doing anything else, one was watching tv, and the other, whose attention I got, told me he was "off-duty," and that one of the other two would have to help me. So needless to say, I am pissed off by the time I get my pitcher.
Now just as our game starts, against these two hot ass girls, the bar closes. Every bartender/bouncer has come up to us telling us we had to leave but since apparently one of the hot girls is fucking one of the bouncers, we were allowed to play...this until douchebag bartender number one comes up and starts tossing all our cups into the garbage. I didn't say anything, apparently Joey had plans to go to another bar.
...To a bar where all the girls are half naked and require money to talk to!
Now here is the thing about me and strippers...I don't treat them like people, I obnoxiously stare at their asses, I don't pull out any bills bigger than one, I spend a lot of time texting, and I, pretty much, just feel out of place altogether. Especially this one where, the floor was made of sand and there was a large tinted window in the back from behind which Tony Soprano awkwardly stared at us.
Okay, tangent time...small tangent, this will be another post eventually. Last year, when I went to Miami, around my birthday, Joey and I went to a strip club and I, inadvertently, wound up dropping 200 bucks on a lap dance. But, that's for another day's discussion.
So Joey's telling Babyface, and every stripper who comes over to talk to us, about how I dropped 200 bucks on a lapdance last year, and now these strippers, keep in mind, I'm just staring at asses, are offering me all kinds of things from massages to free breakfast...yes, she actually offered me free breakfast...don't misinterpret this, there was a buffet in the back. Well, I would have went along with this, except I'm pretty sure strippers don't take credit...I was out of fucking cash.
So, we decided we'd come back when I had money.
...Florida Part Two is to follow.