Miami Beach is well-known for its “boots ‘n cats ‘n” clubs. By the way, if you don’t know what I mean by that, say “boots ‘n cats ‘n” repeatedly. Congratulations, you just beatboxed what a club on South Beach sounds like.
Boots ‘n catting isn’t my thing.
Boots ‘n catting isn’t my thing. I prefer the more laid back lounge element where the music exists but isn’t the focus. Although, every time I’m at the Delano I end up at some loud-ass club soon after. The combination of alcohol and the principle of inevitability means anyone in Miami Beach fist pumps at least once. Once again I’m not reviewing the hotel because I have no reason to stay there.
The crowd is generally favorable. You’ll find whatever you’re looking for. Are you into young, attractive professionals? Check. Are you into escort-like Barbies? Check. How about divorcée cougars with a room already at the hotel? Check-mate. Inside the lobby you’ve got a bar, loud music, and the somewhat younger crowd. Outside you’ve got a bar, pool, and a more laid back atmosphere. That’s also where the entrance to the Florida Room is. The Florida Room is nice and all, but I prefer to stay upstairs. It’s too much like a basement. While there aren’t really many basements in Miami on account of our already close proximity to Hell, I try to stay away from the few ones there are. You see, I visited a psychic that told me I’d be murdered in a basement by one of my disgruntled blog readers.
That’s not true, by the way, psychics are about as accurate as an amputee playing billiards.
She met my “I’m scouring for cock like I’m trying to inseminate a barn full of hens” quota for the month.
This past weekend I was there again with a good friend of mine that makes the Delano his second home. When I arrive he’s talking to some out-of-her-mind-drunk chick from Chicago and her aunt. She met my “I’m scouring for cock like I’m trying to inseminate a barn full of hens” quota for the month. I’m not into that, I like challenges. I have a friend who is still pretty sore with me because two blackout drunk girls quite literally stumbled onto me wanting me and my friend to take them home, and I put them in a cab and gave the less-drunk-one’s ID to the female cabbie. The female cabbie thing threw me off too, I thought in Miami it was strictly a Haitian male job. Anyway, I like a girl that makes me work for it. Plus I’m attempting (again) this whole celibacy thing. Gradually, at least. Cold turkey means I’ll probably fuck a cold turkey out of desperation.
The tourist thing is common all over the beach, but obviously a lot more prominent in hotel bars. I met this one girl from Kansas which I had fun with that night. At some point we went to Mokai, then after we left we were going to act like assholes on the shoreline but decided against it halfway there and wanted to go to Wall. We didn’t feel like walking all the way around to the entrance to the hotel because of her heels so we did what classy folks do and climbed the gate. I caught a glimpse of her remarkable nimbleness for the first time.
Places like the Delano are the only reasons I go to the beach (sober) unless it’s someone’s birthday and I’m implored to boots ‘n cats. It’s not to say those types of clubs are bad, it’s just not my thing.
The Delano is where it’s at.
People who would enjoy it
People who would not enjoy it
- 1685 Collins Ave
- Miami Beach, FL 33139
- (305) 672-2000