Chapter 30: Just Like Heaven

I’ll never forget the day I met her.

I’d been hanging with a buddy I used to party with, who lived in a building near me. A dude I met at the gym. This Filipino nicknamed “Nasdaq.”

Nasdaq and I would go out clubbing, hit bars. He’d always be talking about, plotting ways to pick up girls. But when we’d go places, he could never muster up the courage to talk to them.

(Unlike me, who, after a few drinks, gave no fucks. Or like Nasdaq’s friend, “Crazy Juan.”)

((Crazy Juan was an absolute madman. He was a tall, swarthy, well-dressed Latino. A guy with a pockmarked face and the pockmarks somehow made him look more handsome. Dude had a bombastic personality; he’d hit any club or bar like a fucking tornado. This guy truly gave no shits. He’d step in a bar and yell over to me, “Hey, let’s go get shot down by every girl in this place!” and he would. At times, he’d be too spastic for his own good. Importunate in his approach. Scaring chicks away. But, underneath, he was a decent guy, a kind soul. He was crazy, sure, but a lovable crazy. We only hung a few times before he left, departing for L.A. when he landed a job there.))

Nasdaq and I continued to hang, though, go out and hit the town. He’d usually just sit at the bar, or stand in the back of the club, lean on the wall and drink. I’d dance, hit on girls, and I’d never have much luck. A couple times I did, but most times I’d be shot down by snooty chicks, tall models, and even chubby girls.

Most of the girls I’d try to pick up would give me the identical, South Beach Shoot Down gesture, the hand signal, the palm held up to my face, like a traffic cop stopping oncoming vehicles.

(The joker in me wanted to slap their hand a playful high five. But I’ve never been one to touch without cause. And they usually rolled their eyes and clomped off quickly anyway... )

I’d didn’t care much, though. Mostly I had better luck meeting girls in public or online. Going to bars, clubs for me was about being out, listening to the music, dancing, drinking, digging the lightshows, the atmosphere.

(Though the atmosphere wasn’t always chill. One time I was taking an epic piss in a bathroom stall because the urinals were occupied. Oh, man, it was urgent, after drinking countless beers. As I was draining my lizard, I heard an ear-splitting knocking on the stall door and someone screaming at me to “quit it!” “No way, Jose,” I yelled out. No way I was quitting a piss that glorious and relieving.)

((I came out to see a burly bouncer, his neck veins popped out. Dude had cauliflower ears and looked like a posterchild for steroids. He had a stiff, serious face and started berating me about “snorting that shit in there!” which I wasn’t doing, and I told him I was taking a piss. He replied, saying that no one pisses that long. He’d obviously never seen me piss after seven or eight beers. He then commanded me to shut up and go dance. Which I obeyed and did.))

Besides getting shot down at clubs and accosted by burly bouncers, Nasdaq and I had been prowling the beach, mostly perving, stealthily, and occasionally attempting to pick up girls, but not usually having much luck in the sands either.

He’d happened upon a stretch of the beach, not far from us up A1A, where there was a language school, packed with smoking hot European chicks.

This was an English language school, an international chain, which had set up a campus in South Beach.

(Which was a strange place for an English language school, considering how few people in Miami spoke English, at least in daily life, or at home. In certain areas, virtually no English was spoken! Parts of Miami, you’d go into a store or restaurant, and people were only speaking Spanish, many spoke no English at all. Like literally, they didn’t speak the language... )

Nasdaq, on a solo perving expedition, had spotted this coterie of fine-looking European lovelies. He asked me to join him, so we could hit on them, try to score dates.

The morning he’d called me up, it was a Sunday, and I was sort of tired, after hanging with the Venezuelans the night prior.

I wasn’t totally sure I’d go, but he talked me into it. I think he wanted help initiating conversations. He was too pathologically shy to approach girls, and it was usually me being the one to make first contact.

It’s incredible to think of the vicissitudes of life, and how wholly different my path, my life would have been had I not joined him that morning. That one morning, that day, changed absolutely everything.

The cloudless cerulean skies were crystal clear that late morning. It was October. And the weather was simply gorgeous, still hot and sticky, but less so than August or September.

(Those who say Florida has no seasons, has no winter, they’ve never lived there, and the fall there, October, November, is glorious and warm, and not as oppressively humid as summer- May to September. The winter, December to March, is ideal- crisp, sunny, and absolutely magnificent. Towns in Florida have names like “Winter Haven” for a reason.)

Nasdaq had told me the spot to meet him, where the European girls were, and I arrived first. He had an errand to run or something and came later.

I parked near the beach, and, in flip flops, a tank top, and swim trunks, swished through the beige sands and found myself in heaven. There were pretty young ladies everywhere.

It was like I was an Islamic terrorist who’d detonated a suicide vest, and I really was in Allah’s promised paradise. However, the likelihood of them being virgins, now that was low. But you never know (until you know).

Not that I cared of their chastity. Quite the contrary. I was looking for fun. This time, those first few months in South Beach, were among the greatest times of my life. Being young, full of energy and so fucking alive, running free, in a wild and warm place. It was a time I’ll never forget. It was truly magical...

And here I was, on this immaculate beach, under a shining, golden sun, with salty sea breezes tickling at my nose, and I was surrounded by beautiful women in bikinis, smoking hot Euro babes frolicking, splashing in the waters, lying atop the beige sands. The beautiful girls everywhere, far as the eye could see.

I scanned around, admired the scenery. It was further up the beach, a little past South Beach, around 30th and Collins, and it was way less crowded and was much cleaner there. No used condoms, empty bottles or bloody tampons anywhere.

Since it wasn’t so crowded, I didn’t need to cut through too many people to get to the water. I’d planned to set my towel down, kick off my flip flops and jump in the Atlantic, which, at that time of year, was a darker, more navy shade of blue.

Nearing the foamy, splashing tide, I passed by two sizzling hot, rail thin, young European goddesses. They were as pretty as runway models.

One was a blond, the other a brunette.

Passing them, they looked at me, and I looked back. I smiled at them. They smiled back.

I decided to seize the opportunity and asked them how the water was today.

They responded that they’d not been in, only had been sunbathing.

It was a rather effective opening line. I’d not even planned it, either. It just rolled off the tip of my tongue.

Not only were both stunningly beautiful, they were chill, friendly, easy to talk to. We hit it off, immediately began chatting, the usual getting to know you stuff, where are you from, what are you doing here, the small talk thing.

One of them was Italian. The other was Austrian. Sort of surprising because it looked the other way around, the Austrian the brunette and darker-skinned, with these big, mesmerizing brown eyes that captivated me. I’d never seen eyes like that before.

She was thin as a model, both were, actually, and both had their belly buttons pierced.

The Italian was a hot number herself, with bright blue eyes and a crooked smile that was sly and sexy.

I was hitting it off with the two of them, and then Nasdaq arrived.

He made his introductions, caught up on our banter. The girls had to go to class and had to leave shortly, so I made sure to get their digits and asked them to meet me and Nasdaq for dinner later that night at a trendy bar/restaurant on Lincoln Road that had splendid margheritas and magnificent food, particularly its nachos.

Once the girls left, Nasdaq and I discussed the obvious. Who would chase who?

The two girls liked me, I could tell, and weren’t too into Nasdaq. Poor Nasdaq. Not only was he shy, but he was slightly older than me, and slope-shouldered, not as physically fit. When we’d hit on girls, they’d usually like me more.

Nasdaq was indecisive. He couldn’t say which one he liked better. I knew I wanted the Austrian. From the first moment I saw her, she was all I could think about, as if she’d cast a spell on me, with those brown eyes of hers...

Nasdaq and I met the girls at the restaurant at around 7pm. We had a fun time, yummy Latin fusion food and several drinks.

After the meal, we took a leisurely walk around Lincoln Road. The place was packed, young people, pretty people, weirdos, hipsters, posers, artists, models, buskers, human statues, beggars, and stragglers and everything in between. We even passed by a guy who looked like Mickey Rourke, and I’m pretty sure it was him.

(I’d driven past Vanilla Ice earlier that day, seen him run a red light, not far from Lincoln Road. He’d been driving a white SUV. I would have expected him in some fancier whip. Maybe Suge Knight stole his rides too ... But still, I have thought he’d be cruising like Birdman, who I’d seen pimping a jet-black Rolls Royce. I spotted him driving down the street by my apartment, at 6 AM, when I was returning from a club. We’d made eye contact, as I’d stopped in my tracks, squinting at him, thinking, “Wait a sec, isn’t that...” And he’d sped off before I could put respek on his name... )

Back to Lincoln Road, strolling around, we decided to hit a club on the beach, one I’d not been to, but one where Nasdaq knew a part-owner and so we bypassed the line, got in for free, had VIP access.

The whole time, on our double date, it wasn’t totally clear who’d wind up with who. Poor Nasdaq, neither girl really was too keen on him.

Countless shots were slammed by our quartet. Nasdaq’s owner pal hooked us up with an open bar. Then it was down to the dance floor.

The four of us began to boogie.

I first was shuffling, duckwalking with the Italian, and then duckwalked over to the Austrian.

There was something about her. An aura. It drew me in, like an energy with invisible tentacles, and I pulled her towards me, grabbing her by her slim hips and I planted my lips on hers.

I think we set a Guinness Record for how long we made out, on that dance floor. When we broke apart, and went to bumping and grinding, I glanced over at Nasdaq and the Italian, and they were staring at us, eyes bulging and mouths agape.