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2002-04-30
Let's Go Back In Time
I think I told you all last week that after the Seven Mile Bridge Run very, very early LAST Saturday morning, I wasn't really even going to have time to rest. One of my best buddies Shannon was flying in from L.A. that afternoon, so Shawn, Jennifer and I planned to pick her up in Ft. Lauderdale, and then head to steamy South Beach.

Shawn and I went to the pool to get some sun and rest. Well, I got some sun and rest. Fair-skinned, not-wearing sunscreen Shawn got FRIED into a big steaming piece of girlflesh. Seriously, she still has scabs. See, we both went shopping at the outlet store that week for new, cheap clubbing tops. And we both bought something a little weird. I ended up with a black, strapless lace-up corset. It looked hot as hell, but was a little girlier than what I usually wear. I figured I could toughen it up with some pants, big boots, and strong jewelry, though. Shawn chose this very cute top with - well, a HOLE between her boobs. Since that area had never seen the sun before, the skin peeking out was very, very pale. It really did look weird next to the rest of her skin, but she totally overdid it in the sun, and was (and still is) paying for it in a big, itchy, flakey way.

Back to the trip.

Following a brief screwup at the airport that involved driving in big circles, Jennifer and I ran into the baggage claim area and literally grabbed Shannon and hauled her stuff out of there. We love South Beach, and cannot be held accountable for our degrees of excitability when a trip there is drawing near.

We had a chatty drive south, and checked into our hotel. Those of us who needed showers did that, and we grabbed some crappy pizza from a mediterranean place. I know, we should have known better. But it was close and cheap.

Then we got dressed. We looked wild. Shawn had on her hole shirt (complete with fire-engine red flesh), I had on the corset, Shannon had on this crazy shirt that looked like someone had torn it off her, then she just tied it on to get through the night, and Jennifer was sporting her always-popular pants that had faces printed all over them.

We were ready to hit the clubs.

Looking hot, we strolled down South Beach to the strip, taking in the deco buildings and handsome Latin men. When we hit her first club, Jennifer hooked up with the guy she - no joke - had been planning to get carnal with later in the night. She was all, "I'm just going to disappear for a while. We're going to take a walk on the beach." Only she used the word "dick" a whole lot more when relaying her plans to us. I cleaned it up.

Oh, and I hate that guy. It's a long story.

So we strolled through the club, and decided to hit the bathroom.

And that is where I, in my wild outfit, during the first bathroom break in the first stall in the first club at the very beginning of the night, before I'd even had a single drink, managed to tear the zipper out of the back of my pants post-pee.

Shawn tried to fix them. I asked if it would be easier if I took them off. She said yes.

And that is where I, in the first stall in the first club at the very beginning of the night, before I'd even had a single drink, stood all huddled, clutching the door shut, wearing a wild corset, black string underwear, white socks, and big black boots. There's a photo somewhere. No, you can't see it.

Shawn was unable to fix the pants. We bribed some guy to give us some safety pins. Within minutes, I was wearing black pants with safety pins jutting out the back. I am a fashionista.

The rest of the night is really a blur - drink, dance, watch Shawn cringe whenever anyone touched her, hear about the sex after Jennifer returned from her brief absence, watch Shannon eat a huge piece of pizza, drink, dance, sit in princess chairs, drink. Some guys were giving us 20s at some part of the night. I don't know what any of us did to earn that, and really, I don't need to know that.

Here's what a good friend Shawn is - every single time I had to pee, she would march in there with me, unpin my pants, and then repin them when I was done. I'm not the best stander-stiller around, either. She says she only poked a few holes in her fingers.

The next morning, we dragged our butts out of bed, showered, packed, and somehow managed to check out only 10 minutes late. We got some grub and headed back to the Keys.

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