Come Along with Me to Miami. I Promise No One will Eat Your Face.

Before bums were getting their faces eaten off in Miami, I was in a hotel bar getting asked if I was a porn star.

Confused yet?

Let me back up.

A few weeks ago, myself and the husband embarked on a cruise to the Bahamas. But before the cruise we decided to spend a few days in Miami. The airplane ride boded well as to what was coming. Sitting diagonally from me was a kid, maybe 17 to 20-years-old, cradling a stuffed kangaroo wearing sunglasses.

Fucking sunglasses.

Staring at it, I kept expecting it to come alive, like some sequel to Kangaroo Jack.

Goddamn you, Jerry O’Connell.

When we landed in Miami I expected glitz. I expected to be intimidated by the money and the clothes and the nightclubs.

When in actuality I was more intimidated by the store window mannequins.

Um, hi. Hello, ladies.

So in a hotel bar such as this—

This exact bar.

–my husband and I got a drink. Our lithe, German bartender informed us the porn convention was in town. I began plotting how we would crash it. Maybe steal some black dildos. Sometime during the conversation my husband escaped, leaving me alone at the bar with the bartender and another customer.

Customer turned to me and asked, in all seriousness, “So are you a porn star?”

Torn between wondering if I’m being flattered or mocked, I swiveled on my bar stool. Arched a brow. “What do you think?”

Now I got 10 extra pounds on me, but it’s not on my boobs.

Speaking of boobs…

Customer laughed. I asked, “Are you?” and held up my pinky.

Conversation awkwardly turned to politics.

The night ensued. Much drinking was had, causing me to croak this little ditty from a Miami sidewalk.


All kinds of surprises awaited me in Miami.  The painting in our hotel hallway where I questioned the creepy decision to hang this photo.  Clearly, a rape in progress.



12-year olds drinking Boone’s Farm straight from the glass bottle next to this sign, which gave it a sobering experience.


Walking into Mac’s Double Deuce (a bar I had hoped to drink at but promptly fled) and the first words I hear are, “Well, the first time I got my vasectomy…”

Aaaaand, exit stage right…

I excelled in ordering Café con Leche. A travel guide I had read prior to the trip warned its readers to never order straight-up American coffee or scorn and mocking would reign. “Order a Café con Leche, Colada or Cafecito or prepare to be shanked,” were the words of counsel.

So at David’s Café I promptly ordered “two café con leches”, even giving a little accent to the “leche” part. Heart pounding in my chest, I waited for the ridicule but the hot Cuban waiter rewarded me a with a wink.

I will drink you now. And you will like it.


After two long days of staring at double D’s and sweating like Gary Busey on a bender, it was time to go. Miami was good for a few things. The stories. The Cubanos. The hair (I had no idea how much natural curl I had until Miami).

Miami is Vegas on steroids. It wasn’t glitzy or impressive. Sometimes I feared for my life…or my soul. But the one thing I could dig up, the moral of my Miami story is: If you sit and wait for it, someone will seriously ask you if you’re a porn star. And if you stay longer than a week in Miami, you get your fucking face eaten off.

  • Reply

    Ali Trotta

    June 10, 2012 at 9:39 pm

    This made me laugh so hard. I adore you. Also, I find myself craving coffee — and I’m very glad that no one tried to eat your face.

  • Reply


    June 10, 2012 at 9:43 pm

    For the rest of Florida, Miami is like that awkward relative who went to prison for grand theft, but you’re pretty sure he’s also on drugs and has killed someone. So we never actually visit for very long, but we usually say nice things. You know, just in case.

  • Reply


    June 10, 2012 at 9:44 pm

    And great post! You are incredibly funny!

  • Reply

    Hubert O'Hearn

    June 10, 2012 at 10:18 pm

    Yes, you ARE Dorothy Parker for the new (well, not so new…actually I found it on a sale rack) millenia

  • Reply


    June 10, 2012 at 10:36 pm

    Glad you got out of double D country in one piece!

    And managed not to reply to the porn star question. :)

    And yes, that is a very dubious-looking picture to have on any wall.

  • Reply

    Hubert O'Hearn

    June 10, 2012 at 10:42 pm

    BTW the mere fact you applied thge tag ‘face eater’ is testament to your skills. But i really don’t want to meet whatever troll goes earching WordPress for metatag ‘face eater’.

  • Reply

    Michael Gillan Maxwell

    June 10, 2012 at 10:47 pm

    Wow! Jeezus Jules ~ where the hell were you guys staying down there anyway? Doesn’t sound like the Fountainenbleu. More like the Sacre Bleu! Really funny post ~ and inspiring. I just booked a one way ticket from Rochester to Miami for 52 bucks. I’ll give ya a shout if I ever get back from there alive. I hope you’re working on the cruise post for next time?

  • Reply


    June 11, 2012 at 12:21 am

    Very funny :)

  • Reply


    June 11, 2012 at 12:22 am

    You are the bomb, Jules! I did laugh my face off. My ass is still there. Thank you for making my wkend! LOVE and adore you!

  • Reply

    Tammie Yeager

    June 12, 2012 at 1:32 am

    I am laughing my ass off. And crying. I had to read this several times as the story was swimming from my tears of laughter. The office loves you. As do I.

  • Reply


    June 12, 2012 at 9:36 pm

    love it. though i wish you would have found out how many vasectomies this guy got. apparantly im not the only person who is curious about serial vasectomy patients

  • Reply


    June 17, 2012 at 5:11 pm

    thanks to everyone for reading and the comments. clearly, face eating and porn are the best subjects to write about ev-ah.

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