**I recommend reading Days 1 and 2 – right below this - before Day 3 so you are fully debriefed (and by “debrief,” I don’t mean taking off your underwear, but feel free to do so).
Saturday morning, I woke up in the hotel room I was sharing with 3 other girls (for the record: 1 Single lady and 2 “Teeterers”) and a recap session from the previous night automatically ensued.
“Sorry for waking you guys up last night,” commented Teeterer #1 from the other bed.
I felt a story coming on.
“You did?” I asked, totally not remembering and fully prepared to hear what I missed.
Turns out the other Single in the room and Teeterer #1 had brought home the 2 hotties from Coco Deville that they were dancing with when I left, and the foursome came up to the room where I was in one bed and Teeterer #2 was in the other. They asked me to please move into bed with Teeterer #2 (I remember none of this) and I happily obliged, got up and walked around the room talking nonsense for a good 5 minutes. Sleepwalking or drunken stupor? You be the judge. I also failed to notice (read: remember) the 2 pro football players that were with them. That’s right. The guys they brought home were Miami Dolphins players. And 22-year-old new recruits at that. You go…girls (or should I say “cougars”?).
The best part? The 4 of them (yes, the 2 Dolphins, the Single and Teeterer #1) all slept in the same bed. Luckily the whole situation stayed PG-13 (Or so they say). The Dolphins DID give it the ol’ college try (literally), but the girls kept it classy. It’s impolite to engage in anything more than a make-out sesh when you’re in bed with another couple. Rules to live by, folks.
The day was off to a good start. And to top if off, we remembered that we were supposed to be switching rooms since our shower stopped working whilst getting ready the night before. The other Single (clearly still on a confidence high from her 22-year-old conquest) called the front desk and asked that we be upgraded to a suite. Done. And Done.
It was pool time. We slipped into our bikinis, grabbed our beach bags and what was left of our dignity, and headed up to the rooftop. For the record, Plunge is THE place to be in South Beach on a Saturday – all the beautiful people are there, trying to look and act their sexiest, the DJ is playing trendy house music, and the vibe is far from College Spring Break. Until we showed up.
If chicken fighting at the Gansevoort on a Saturday afternoon is wrong, then we didn’t want to be right. Oh, and the bottom half of those chicken fighting towers ARE Canadian. They showed up, after all. Team Canada was definitely leading the battle of the Bachelor Parties.
After all the strenuous exercise, we headed up to the bride-to-be’s room to take a breather (read: make cocktails), yet somehow the said “rest period” turned into a Crossfit workout. Just do yourself a favor and watch this video. At the very least, you’ll get a laugh at my expense. Which I fully welcome.
We trekked back down to the pool, more debauchery (including a little game we called “Spin the Straw”) ensued, and then it was time to set up for the lingerie shower…IN OUR SUITE! We couldn’t have planned it better if we tried. And, we told Andrea we had been DOWNGRADED to a smaller room, so she was totally surprised when she walked into our large-and-in-charge suite complete with a cheese and crackers spread from the Walgreen’s across the street and more penis balloons than Party City on a good day.
We popped a few bottles of champagne, surprised Andrea with a video of her fiance (more on that later and NO, not that kind of video), gave her all her lingerie, made her try it on, etc, etc, etc, and then we heard a knock on the door. Could it be? Oh, yes; it was the stripper. Not a professional. In fact, he was a member of the Team America bachelor party.
Did we plan this? Well…I tried. But, I didn’t think it would actually come to fruition. Must have been the magic of the Magic City.
Post-striptease, the rest of Team America came up to our suite and it turned into a full-on hotel party. You know, like the kind you see in rap videos (minus the Hypnotiq and girls in thongs) – loud music, popping bottles, and a total of THREE warnings (and threat of being kicked out) from the hotel staff. Team America was really gaining on Team Canada for their party skills. But, we WERE planning to meet up with Team Canada at “da club” for our last night in SoBe so we had a feeling they would secure the lead.
We hopped in a cab and headed over to Mynt Lounge, where we saw throngs of people waiting to get in, per usual SoBe fashion. I took a deep breath and prepared to work my magic (or rather, beginners luck). But, then the unthinkable happened. We got out of our 2 cabs across the street from the club, I caught the bouncer’s eye while I crossed the street with the other girls in tow, he gave me a nod, and the velvet rope…was lifted. We had no idea what was happening but we went with it. We were in. (I later read this on Mynt’s web site: If there’s one club on Miami Beach synonymous with exclusivity, it is Mynt Lounge. During its seven-year reign the definitive Über lounge on the 2100 block of Collins has earned a reputation for the tightest door policy and most fabulous crowd in the Magic City.) Seriously, WTF?
Mynt was much more our speed than LIV – it was smaller, played better music and had a more laid-back atmosphere while still keeping the “club scene.” Team Canada had a table and bottle service so we partied with them all night and someone snapped a pic I like to call “The 9 Faces of Alcohol.”
I noticed girls starting to trickle out as the night wore on, and by the time I actually looked at my phone for a time check…it was 4:45 a.m. Whooopsiiiiie. Where…did the time go? I took a break from the “intimate conversation” I was having with a Team Canada player and looked around, hoping to see at least 1 girl from our group. I saw 2: Teeterer #1 and another Single. Phew. As the 3 of us girls and the 3 Team Canadians we were hanging with departed the club, the Single had a genius idea: “Let’s go skinny dipping!”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
So, we did. And, the rest of the details will remain in the SoBe Bachelorette vault. I will say, that somehow, out of the 3 of us, I was the only one that seemed to notice the sun coming up and hotel employees coming out on the beach to set up beach chairs for the day. It was time to go. I ran out of the water, dressed at record speed at the very break of dawn and walk-of-shamed it back to the Gansevoort. The other 2 girls did not.
As Teeterer #1 came into our room at 8:30 a.m. straight from the beach, I gave her a proud slow clap. She deserved it. The fact that 2 of the girls had to get out of the ocean wearing nothing but their birthday suits, gather their things and get dressed while old couples took their morning strolls on the beach and dog owners ran with their pooches made the weekend complete.
The bachelorette was epic. I can’t imagine another weekend that could top it. Oh, wait…the wedding. This weekend. In Atlanta.
Good thing we’re very far from a beach.