Why is it than whenever a night starts very glamorously it ends up in the other extreme of the spectrum?
There I was, bored at home, playing tetris when I heard about this party at the offices of Red Car post-production and media company on Biscayne and 47th St.
Modernage singer Mario Giancarlos, who by the way just got out a new awesome cd, with their same sound we all love and cannot get out of our heads and some pretty good fresh songs, he picked me up at around 7:30 p.m. good timing for a Thurs nite and we headed to the party without knowing what to expect.
In the elevator we wondered if we were under dressed on our skinny jeans, although you can barely go wrong with those, but a guy also going to the party on a cowboy hat and shorts, who talked a lot, made us feel much better about our attire.
If there is people on shorts, anything goes. In the end this is Miami, and this is a party of media savvies, production-geeks, which are usually pretty casual and tend to try to be comfortable.
Wow! Free food, free whisky, there were other drinks, but when there is free Black Label, why would you order anything else.
The Outside of The Red Car Party
The office itself was also quite breathtaking, which is probably the word they want their clients to use when they visit. Flat screens everywhere, a small recording studio for over voices and music, nice floors, nice furniture and 360° view of Miami's lights.
Lots of freelancers, copywriters, musicians and former Telemundo employees, lots of those since the channel just swept heads following the steps of just about any other media company in Miami. But, the conversations were not about the future of the media and where are we all going to go?
The cowboy-hat boy who Mario baptized Owen Wilson because of their similar looks, kept on repeating that it was not allowed to talk about work. But, when I met an Argentinean Porn Director, we had to put that rule aside.
It was all very good, cute girls, good food, good drinks, good party.
But, it was time to go.
Got a text message from beautiful Dara about a Karaoke at Out of The Blue, around 24th and second.
After my last whisky for which I had to convince the good-looking bartender that I wasn't driving, we transported ourselves to what was about to become one of the funnest things a Thursday night could offer.
Eduardo Ortiz, the fat-gay Venezuelan host, sang Alejandra Guzman and made us all even more enthusiastic than what we already were.
I went up to sing El Cantante, and Mario faithful to his rock roots gave a great performance of The Smiths' Bigmouth, which we all sang along.
Alex and Rudo made a strong Duo.
Pat Walsh sang Billy Idol's Rebel Yell and we all cried more, more, more. Eduardo Ortiz gave Pat the second place of the night for his performance with air guitar and jumps, we were all very proud of him.
After going from Paquita la Del Barrio to Mecano and Mana, these are the kind of things you regret about alcohol, the night was over for some of us.
Pat, who had danced salsa, ballenato and merengue and had performed so graciuosly hadn't had enough and was heading to ps 14; the bastard didn't have to wake up early.
Damn you work from keeping the young night from continuing and killing our spirits. We will get back at you someday!