DRIVE FASTER, GRANDMA, WE ALREADY HAVE A TRAFFIC PROBLEM.
After the party, it’s the hotel lobby, where you meet a guy with a table at LIV, take him to Better Days, and somehow end up on the sand at 21st and Collins drinking rosé at sunrise. On a Wednesday. It’s fun when you visit, but when you live in a place where the partying never stops, plowing through lines of tourists to pay $20 for a vodka soda gets old fast. Netflix and pajama Fridays, amiright?