Carla Gardner & Manny the Monkey on the Run in South Beach, Miami
Preparing myself for a week of festivities during my third consecutive WMC experience, I stocked up on vitamins and packed light. One never knows where the Miami breeze will settle so I avoid confirming anything and try to keep my personals present, i.e. carry-on only. I stopped short on my brisk walk out of Miami International when I came across a display of stuffed monkeys hanging in a gift shop. One look was all it took and my mind burst with thought confetti as I imagined how much fun I was going to have traipsing about with my new little buddy, Miami Manny.
Manny, myself and crew headed straight from the airport to Nikki Beach in our cherry red rental car like the world was on fire. The annual Welcome to Miami party runs 11am on Wednesday through 5am the next day so our 4pm arrival time dove us right into the thick of it. Nic Fancuilli was making the crowd scream but we were pressed to find a proper dancing space where we wouldn’t be trampled by the roving masses. Noting that the VIP area was majestic and sparsely occupied, my monkey convinced me that I should saunter past the security and introduce ourselves to the bottle service patrons. We were making champagne toasts and the most of the reserved space in no time--Miami Manny is a charming character.
After a relaxing day sipping Rose by The Standard Hotel pool, Manny accompanied me to my marathon bartending shift at Dax’s Slide Into Miami rooftop gala on Thursday night. Pouring drinks and pumping kegs from 8pm to 5am is a lot of fun in a bunny costume, but feeling compelled to bounce up and down while taking orders really took a lot out of us. I relied on Screwdrivers and Redbull to get me through but I had to restrain Manny from flinging his poo at a belligerent customer around the 4am hour. Bad Monkey!
With Friday upon us, my crew rocked attire you could see from space and headed to Danny Tenaglia’s legendary Classics set at Score. Like Burningman, DT is a spectacle that is difficult to describe to someone who has not yet experienced it for themselves. It's an unspeakable joy that makes the memories and the people you share them with with so magically illuminated. The crowd clears the way for Vivacious, a larger than life drag performer dressed in spotted orange spandex with a spiked headdress. She carries a small flashlight which makes her reflective orange lipstick glow neon as she mouths the words "there will be no guest list tonight." Out of the darkness, Danny speaks to the tribe in his distorted signature-- "this is my f*cking party, so be yourself" -- and we cheer and dance with abandon as the commandments ring down from the temple of sound. Miami Manny swung high up on a speaker as we all rejoiced in this spiritual thing we created together.
All good things come to an end and, after several glorious days of fun together, Miami Manny was kidnapped from his post at the Get Physical party on Saturday night. I would have gladly paid a ransom but, alas, no note was left. "Who steals a monkey with a handwritten name on his shirt?," I wondered, but luckily M.A.N.D.Y.'s DJ set was blowing my body and mind so my grief was eased for a few hours. The next day at Sunday School for Degenerates I was having a great time among friends when I looked up at the rafters and pictured my Manny hanging above us. It was a day of mourning for all who knew him so I prayed to the speakers that he was in a better place.
Luck be found, my prayers were answered and there were a few little monkey friends left at the airport upon my departure. Manny the first lives on in the spirit of Miami Manny 2.0...coming to a party near you.
