Americans shouldn't allow 50cc on the interstate

Grant Whitaker – 5:00am, McDonalds: “We have done some crazy s*** today, and I for one am quite impressed that we did not die”

Truer words have never been spoken. Miami, a time spent so well that I decided that I wouldn’t segregate it into to three entries for each day, this baby deserves its own article.

Ok, so the journey to Miami was less than I wanted, as I was placed next to a fat guy with severe gas issues. On top of that a single mother and her four daughters surrounded me. I hate these children. They shouted, they screamed, and one of the little demon spawn stole some of my skittles. They moved me several times from my seat, as it just so happened that wherever the hell I decided to stay was exactly where she should have been. You know, “cause everywhere else is just so difficult with my children, being a single mother and all.” Use a bloody condom then, or at least drown them at birth.
(Side note, Rowan Quilty does not condone the actions of baby drowning, just remember to teach them the rules that just because you want somebody’s things, this does not make it theirs, especially when it is a disgruntled Brits skittles or personal space.)

That’s about as interesting my 26 hour journey was from Kentucky…yeah 26.

Once I got outside the hostel, ‘Jazz on south beach’, I was thinking that I’d gotten the name wrong and was taken to some sort of club…nah, it was just one hell of a hostel. Turns out every night they organise everyone to go clubbing, and start off allowing everyone to drink in the main room. After checking in, I managed to find Jack, Grant (counsellors from camp), and Alex (Grants housemate, fondly nick named ‘Ballsack”) sitting on the couch with a bunch of Budweiser’s. we sat around watching the twenty-somethings get gradually more pissed, and one especially oddly behaved (which we later found out to be due to some acid) woman, who pelted us with pamphlets, and decided that the beer bottles and cans needed to fit in more with the room, and promptly started redecorating.

(sidenote – Grant tried to wow me with a story of how all of them went skinny dipping in the sea, after listening further though it turned out it was just him and Ballsack…that was awkward)
I was alos offered a superman tattoo fir 5 bucks, I was all so tempted, until he told me we’d have to find somewhere private to get it done…I’ve heard of cleverer ideas.

So we went to the beach, we hung out on the lifeguards tower, we hid from the beach-police-man, it was all good. But nothing could compare to the next day, Scooter day!

That’s right scooter day, $55 for a scooter, so we (me, grant, Ballsack and Kieran, who had arrived the previous evening also) decided to rent out two of them. We were told that we had payed for 24 hours with these scooters, and we weren’t about to waste any money. It started off pretty regularly, as far as going around miami on the back of the scooter for kicks could be. Just sped around, constantly raced each others scooters, then the thought occurred to us. “Why don’t we visit will smith…or at least steal a gnome”, so it was off to palm island. Unfortunately the only gnome we could find was about three foot tall, and we couldn’t get Will Smiths address from the security guard…though we were never really sure if he lived there. But what we did do is see a ridiculous amount of mansions that I have no doubt belonged to the mafia. You could tell cause they had fancy cars and big balconies that someone would be shot off in a dramatic scene.
The scariest moment of the day however was when we decided to go downtown, and somehow managed to find ourselves on the six lane interstate. The only way I found out about this, and equally the only way I found out that this should have killed us and our new 50cc friends, was when Grant rode up next to ours and screamed at us “HOLY $#%@, WE’VE GOT TO GET OFF OF THE INTERSTATE!!”…that was a pretty big clue we were in trouble. Not only due to the accidents that could have happened, but we seemed to be pissing off enough trucks and big rigs that a couple of…not-so-accidents, could have occurred.

Side note: Kieran allowed me to have a small go on the scooter, but after the first few seconds we decided it best I don’t ride with a passenger.

Hours later we arrived back at the hostel, unscathed in all ways except for the stinging sensation that the hail/rain had when you’re moving 51mph, that’s right we reached 51. We thought it would be good to get showered and ready for some clubbing, cause no person should be able say they went to Miami, and did not go clubbing.
(Side note: some of us, however, can say that we haven’t, however reluctant we may be.)
The reason that we did not go…Onega girls. Two of them to be exact. They were nice and all, but they would not stop talking to some people at the hostel, and persuaded Alex and I to wait, resulting in us being left behind completely with no idea what club to go to. Suffice to say we were pissed, we decided eventually to go to the beach with some other people from the hostel, on the way to which we met up with jack, who had his own little sob story of abandonment to tell, though his words were unexplainably rushed, slurred, and he was sweating a whole lot. Curious…
I got offered a $5 superman tattoo, which I was very tempted by up to the point where he told me we’d need to go somewhere private for him to do it…no thanks crazy tattoo rapist man…not today please…
Jack acted weirdly at the beach as well, going from person to person as if trying to get rid of something, although no one seemed to be interested…even more curious.
Best part of the beach though was when the beach-police showed up on there quad bikes. Now I had never known that beaches could be closed for the night, but don’t worry we weren’t in trouble…most of us.
For whatever reason when jack saw the police, he shoved both hands into his pockets. Silly, silly Jack. Because of this, all attention was brought off of the twenty or thirty beach dwellers, and set on him getting searched, something definitely made him a bit paranoid, and I guess I should thank whatever it was. Throughout the search I could see tears, of what I can only assume were of amusement, fill his eyes, as the policemen shoved his hand into one pocket, not finding anything, and then gradually lean his hand to the other pocket…only to stop at the last second and decide that Jack was clean. A sigh of relief went round the group…hmm…I wonder what would have happened if the other pocket was searched.

Well after all of that excitement Grant, Jack, Keiran and I decide that 1 o’clock was the perfect time to take the scooters out for a final ride. A 5-6 hour ride. This ride had Keiran and me on one scooter, but I wasn’t allowed to drive, and grant and a spaced-out Jack on the other. At about 4:55am we decided to stop by mcdonalds, but it turned out they didn’t open until 5 am…but as we were about to leave in a rage, they decided they’d open early for us. Who says McDonalds are evil?
What made experience even better though was the new Yorker we meant inside who wouldn’t stop giving Jack a hard time about how gay he was…and yes, the rest of us did join in making fun of him.
(Side note: on the way out we found a stereo…so we put on a car and left, bandits that we are.)