Beware Miami, a beast most foul roams the streets of the design district, preying upon innocent victims. This past Friday I saw it with my own eyes.
As pair after pair of stiletto heels and crocodile print loafers clicked down the sidewalk toward the Moore Building (en-route to the Inside Out birthday bash), a pair of beady eyes followed. And while the who’s who of South Florida’s design world mingled over passed hors d’eouvres and free-flowing vodka in celebration of the magazine’s second year on the stands (a fun party, by the way), the BMWs, Jaguars, and Lexuses they left behind were carefully being watched.
As if publicly challenging Beach Towing for the title of most hideous company known to man, a business has sprung to life across the bridge with neither conscience nor soul, going one step further.
They laugh at you while they do it.
You went to a posh party.
We jacked your car when you were shoveling booze down your throat.
What, you want it back?
Sure, call us, we’ll tell you where it is.
Our name? Surprise Towing.
That’s right: Surprise, you owe us $200! --Joanne Green
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