Party On, Miami: A Spring Break Locals' Challenge

It's official: Drunk, underage Midwesterners have taken over the town. They've paid thousands of dollars to come to our Magic City for a full week of debauchery and sex on the beach. They're committing all kinds of nasty, shameful acts they would never dream of doing in their rural hometowns. They're letting loose, because that's what everybody in Miami does. When in Rome, right?

Wrong. It's not all champagne wishes and cocaine dreams for Miami locals. Last weekend, we set out to discover what kind of trouble 305-ers were getting into during this week of madness. And what we discovered may shock you ... because it is so incredibly tame.

Lunches in the shade. Serene sunbathing. Yawn-tastic midday happy hours. This isn't the Miami we know and love, and frankly, we're concerned. So we're calling for a return to old Miami values, Cultist readers. It's time to get back on that horse and party like the wildest of the out-of-towners. Consider the following mind-blowingly mild cautionary tales -- preferably with a tequila shot in each hand.

Christian Chicacausa, (right), is a student at Miami-Dade College. He's not at the beach because it's Friday on the week of spring break -- Dade students don't really get a spring break, anyway. He's beaching with his honey because he lives in Miami Beach, so that's just his thing.

"I'm here, like, everyday," he says. "Right now there are just a lot of people from out of town, crazy things going on." None of which he's opted to participate in. So sad.

But there is a glimmer of hope for Chicacausa: his UM pride. He's been hitting the beach since before it was cool, but this time he brought his 'Canes tent in case any out-of-towners had doubts about his hometown. Gotta keep reppin'.

Sanique Brown, (left) a grad student at the University of Miami, is having lunch with some out-of-town relatives at Lime Fresh Mexican Grill. She's not really down with the party scene, so she likes to sneak around Midtown in the afternoon, when the crazies aren't out yet.

"I won't really go anywhere for like the next month," she says about the college festivities. "The traffic's really bad." Oh, man up.

Once Sanique is done hiding from the spring breakers, she says, she might hit up Bongo's or Mia Lounge: "It's a lot of fun on ladies night."

That's your chance, Sanique! You may look like a nice girl during the break, but we know you get wild when classes are back. Ladies night: making good girls get bad all year 'round.

Spring break is just another weekend to Isaac Rodriguez, (far right), because he works full time and doesn't go to school. And he spends his weekends at the beach -- the dog beach.

While he couldn't comment on the human hedonism taking place in South Beach, he did say the canine world is running business as usual: "I haven't seen any dogs from out of town." Good lookin' out.

A dog lover, Isaac was enjoying one of his rare escapes from his needy beast, joining his friends for happy hour at the Dadeland World of Beer. His fondest party memories date back to the first time he was on his own.

"When I first moved into my apartment it was completely empty and I threw some wild parties," he said. "There were a lot of people doing the worm."

The worm. This situation is worse than we thought.

On Thursday nights, Blue Martini Kendall has some type of salsa night, which they call "Latin influenced live entertainment." Yawn.

In a sea of buff, balding Puerto Ricans and Latina cougars on the prowl, we found Lucia Ramirez, (right), dancing away her week of freedom from FIU.

"[Spring break] is too short," she said. All she could remember about her craziest party times, she said, was "waking up on the beach after a crazy night." For a girl who wakes up on the beach, seemingly with no recollection of previous events, we imagine spring break couldn't be long enough. So why is this young lady partying at a 50-year-old's pace?

Watch out for the whispering men in the corner, Lucia. Their sketchy kind may be the reason you don't remember how you wound up on the beach. Rohypnol's got a hell of a kick; we suggest getting out of Kendall and blacking out the old-fashioned way -- at Mansion at 4 a.m. after six Jager-bombs.

--Maria Murriel

Follow Cultist on Facebook and Twitter @CultistMiami.

We use cookies to collect and analyze information on site performance and usage, and to enhance and customize content and advertisements. By clicking 'X' or continuing to use the site, you agree to allow cookies to be placed. To find out more, visit our cookies policy and our privacy policy.


Join the New Times community and help support independent local journalism in Miami.


Join the New Times community and help support independent local journalism in Miami.