[***You know the spiel, it's long. Panama-length long. ***]

I have some confessions to make upfront here.

1) It is wholly possible that I still may have some liquor in my system. I’m not 100 percent sure on this but the vision in my left eye hasn’t been right since Tuesday.

2) I have a scar on my forehead right now. I have no clue where it came from or how it happened. Not even the slightest clue. I woke up Tuesday morning, looked in the mirror and there it was. It is possible that maybe, just maybe, I drank a wee little bit too much on Monday night. See #1.

3) I got to Miami on Saturday morning, a full day later than all of my friends. Why? Because I made work a priority for the first time in my life. I feel sick to my stomach. I apologize to my friends and anybody who expects me to be there to be a part of the party jump off. I pledge to never do that again. Employment should never be more important than spending time drinking out of town with your friends while two of them get married.

Let me repeat that last part: A muhfucka apologize and I pledge to never slack on partying again due to anything work related. Feel free to invite me anywhere. I’ll be around like The Spinners and Rappin’ 4 Tay.

[***Sidenote: For everybody in DC, I'm hosting a weekly open mic night on U Street at Bohemian Caverns every Wednesday. Doors open at 6pm with drink specials til 730. Open mic til around 10pm and an afterparty at the club upstairs til 2am. Sign up to get on the guest list for the upstairs club at www.stock13.net. I'm sexxy. ***]

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I just spent 4 days in Miami to celebrate the nuptuals of two of my friends. It was a great time and the wedding was lovely. The bride looked adorable and the groom is something like a G. It was the least traditional wedding I’ve been to in my life and needless to say I’m not sure anybody else will have a wedding like that.

How untraditional? The groomsmen walked in to Common’s “Be” and the bridesmaids walked into Lauryn Hill’s “The Sweetest Thing.”

But like any of my other trips, much hilarity, debauchery, drunken antics and just all around tomfoolery ensued. This was one for the books as well. So what would Panama do? He’d write about it.

Hmm…I just realized that somebody needs to spearhead the WWPD campaign. It’s probably the opposite of WWJD in most cases. Umm…that didn’t sound right.

I’m going to do this as an educational tool. It will be done in a vein of things I learned in Miami. Sharing is caring, reading is fundamental, and Miami is full of education. Believe you me.

[***DISCLAIMER: This will be a very anonymous post to protect the innocent guilty. No names will appear. No references to you know who, who did you know what, to you know who...naw, we'll just keep that between me and you. Any emails from individuals asking who did what will be forwarded to Equifax. ***]

Things I Learned In Miami While My Name is Panama

-A grown ass black man can actually (like no bullshit) fall asleep while in the midst of receiving a lap dance.

[***Sidenote: If you're a stripper, isn't a man falling asleep while you are performing specifically for him the most disprespectful thing ever? Would that make you self-conscious? Poor stripper, that might be a shot to her esteem. He might have singlehandedly signed her death certificate as she might try her best from here on out to go the extra mile on every lap dance thereby causing herself cardiac arrest...all because one drunk ass negro managed to fall asleep during a lap dance. Disrespectful...just wrong. ***]

-Miami is a city that makes you feel like fucking. There is just too much T&A walking the streets and the beach is way too convenient a jumpoff spot for any healthy-libido’d man or woman to be completely devoid of impure thought. The only exception is the fact that a lot of the people displaying T&A needed to be displaying T&S. T-shirts. But I ain’t mad.

-Miami Beach is lovely. The real Miami, of the Rick Ross/Trick Daddy ‘nem variety is something like some hood shit. I mean damn. I say…damn.

-Skinny dipping at 4 am on the beach will result in a lot of fucking sand in a hotel room.

-There is a lonely vibrating lighter dildo roaming the streets of Miami Beach right now.

-Room service can be on some shit sometimes. And they will not hesitate to cuss you out. So…fuck ‘em.

-It is always good to talk to the bartenders and get their names. Do you want to know why? I’ll tell you why. I missed the first day of festivities where my people got fucked the fuck up off some Long Island Iced Teas, but on Monday night…

…shiiiiiiiiiiiiit. We went down to the bar by the hotel pool. Met the bartender. Chopped it up. Result? Two dollar Long Islands.

I MUST repeat that. Muthafuckin’ $2 Long Islands. AND…this dude GAVE us a free round and gave me a free hot dog because I said I was hungry. THEN…he told us to come back tomorrow morning because another bartender was going to be teaching him how to make some drinks and we could have them all free.

I don’t care what anybody says…I love white people.

If it’s one thing white people want you to do right in their presence, it’s drink.

Oh yeah, I learned that too many Long Island Iced Teas may result in unintentional nudity while the hotel next door is obviously shooting a video with spotlights that just might end up on you as you streak down the beach naked. Not that that happened or anything. I’m just saying it seems possible.

-Chasing a bunch of Long Island Iced Teas with shots of Patron and Captain Morgan’s Rum will result in you losing days from your memory. I’m still not completely sure how…fuck it, never mind.

-If given the right audience…it is possible for me to be a bodybuilder. Because apparently some motherfuckers will believe anything despite the sheer unfuckinbelievableness of it.

Oh yeah, I’m skinny as the fuck.

Still sexxy. But skinny.

-Along those same lines, I’ve seen hair that was claiming rival gangs. At the same time.

-I learned that I forgot that I don’t smoke.

-You don’t have to go to the club to have a really good time. You bring the club to the beach. All you really need is some liquor (a lot of liquor) some blankets and some people and you can have a right good time.

You can also get left there sleeping while it seems that EVERYFUCKIN’BODY just dipped out. Then what do you do? Roll over and go back to sleep and hope nobody robs you. This will also result in sand everywhere.

-If you meet a woman who has the exact same name of a chick you used to deal with, somebody will tell you that you should specifically try to holler at her and then tell the other one that you messed with a chick who has her name. For reasons that I will not go into here that is WAY funnier than it might seem…

-I really miss college. More specifically I really miss Spelman College. I’ve also learned something very interesting on a more personal note. People from college either recognize me from jump or swear they’ve never seen me before. Granted in college I had a whole lot of hair doing all kinds of crazy things and I wore glasses but I keep meeting women who have no recollection of ever seeing me, despite a whole OTHER half of Spelman swearing I was there everyday (I was). My friend who got married is a Delta and a a bunch of her linesisters and sorors were there and let me just say…I really love Deltas.

One more time, I really love Deltas.

All AKA’s please feel free to refer any and all hate mail to my email address.

Shit, all Zeta’s and SGRho’s for that matter.

-Time is not always good to all people. Sometimes one should be glad that a crush they had in college remained a crush because as was stated in the first sentence, time is not always good to all people.

-However, time can be fuckin’ great for others that some people have always had a thing for. Summer dresses? That is an idea that must have come straight from God himself.

-Yung Joc’s song “It’s Going Down” is one of the best party songs in years. Especially if two negros in the middle of the room know how to direct traffic and keep things crunk.

-One lightly alcoholic drink will not fuck you up. However, 10 will make you feel a lot better. Especially if you chase said drinks with shots of Vanilla Vodka, Patron, and then drink rum and cokes.

-Driving in Miami fucking sucks. People in Miami are the worst drivers in the nation.

-Cab drivers will curse you out if you call them on the fact that they changed to a black radio station as soon as you got in the car. Luckily the person who called him out was drunk or it could have gotten ugly. Two groups of people I never realized would think to get gully: cab drivers and the hotel cleaning crews. But they too will curse you out.

Over some towels.

Fuck ‘em.

-Being white in Miami must be what it feels like to be Black in Omaha. I think all the white people in Miami are Cuban or something.

Or college students.

-I can’t believe I forgot this one…Miami is fucking hot.

-Key West is far.

-I really like going to weddings. They’re lots of fun and you get to see lots of people you haven’t seen in a good long while. Especially when the people coming to the wedding are a lot of chicks you thought were fine in college who managed to remain fine. That always makes me feel better about life.

-Thundercats and Northern Cali got more in common than you might think. Some very unattractive things happened with some very unattractive people in relation to some very unattractive conversations.

I want half Eddie.

-Some people are in complete denial about the sheer attractiveness of some of their friends. I mean…really.

Top 10.

-Some people are in complete denial about their hateration of people who clearly just need a hug.

Definitely not Top 10.

(By the way, don’t you love the completely inside nature of all of this shit?)

-Drinking done in moderation can totally ruin a weekend.

-Sex…do it for the kids.

-A musicless BBQ that neither the bride or groom has attended will result in food that isn’t ready until its time to go to the wedding rehearsal.

-If you eat at a restaurant in Miami Beach, say for a rehearsal dinner, at say Tap Tap, and say a HUGE FUCKIN’ ROACH THE SIZE OF A SHOE starts climbing the wall…the waitress will kill it near your food and tell you that, “hey, it’s Miami what do you expect?”

-If somebody just happens to spot a mouse running around the theater that the wedding is taking place, while the wedding is taking place, sometimes its better not to tell any of the guests because they might cause a scene. That way, the wedding can go off without a hitch.

Unless of course the mouse runs over somebody’s foot causing mass hysteria and screaming and shit.

Not that that happened. I’m just saying its possible.

-I love my friends a whole lot. I say it all the time and I mean it everytime I say it. We’re planning a 10 year anniversary next August for all of us who met in August of 1997 at Morehouse and Spelman. That my friends, will be some hot shit.

-Miami is a great fuckin’ place!

I think I’ll stop there because for one, I’ve forgotten a lot of what actually happened, and 2 I’m tired.

Next stop: Atlanta, GA, August 4-14th The Panama Vacation Train Keeps Moving On!!!!