On Friday night, Club Nocturnal in Miami, celebrated its two year anniversary with an exclusive MySpace.com party hosted by Dub Magazine’s poster girl, Vida Guerra. The lovely Miss Guerra must have been the cause of many sticky magazine pages throughout her career because the club was flooded with men who thought they had a chance at macking to the Cuban-born video vixen.
The Miami-Dade Police Department also made an appearance at the beginning of the night. No one was allowed into the club until the cops were done inspecting the place to make sure nothing bad happened to all of us partiers. How sweet of them.
An hour later the doors opened and the party began downstairs in the main room with DJ Kaos, DJ Klassik and DJ Surge, who spun a mixture of hip-hop, reggae and booty music all night with an occasional Reggaeton track for all the real classy ladies. There were plenty of hoochie mamas in skirts tight enough to make blood vessels burst, and strangely, toward 3:00 AM, someone thought it would be a good idea to play Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” Now I love Kurt Cobain as much as the next girl but there’s no reason to play that song at Nocturnal, ever. It is even more unjustifiable to follow that song with Guns´N´Roses’ “Sweet Child of Mine. Nonetheless, after four or five Jäger Bombs everything sounded the same.
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It’s a mystery what was going on in the DJ booth because to my understanding tracks are supposed to be mixed together in order to produce a continuous flow of music. However, at one point there were pauses in between a few tracks and some of the strippers-in-training dancing on top of the elevated platforms didn’t look too pleased about it.
For those with the ability to make it upstairs, the glass room was a cool place to be. DJ Mekka and JC Garcia went from a period of House music including Bob Sinclair, to Salsa, to Diamond Girl. Which object does not belong in the sequence? Apparently, this concoction made some sense because the revelers were dancing and enjoying the plush couches. Between the odd house blends, hoochie mamas, and men drooling over Vida Guerra, the words “Only in Miami” made perfect sense. –Lucy Orozco