South Florida Insider.
Monday, January 21, 2008 at 03:18PM 
I’m trying my best to keep a relatively low profile while I’m held up in Palm Beach for the moment. Several years ago it was easy to disappear. Living in South Miami, one could fall off the radar once you drive past the Last Chance Saloon in Florida City and down the infamous stretch of US-1 from Florida City to Key Largo where the death toll from high speed head-on collisions rises steadily. The keys are littered with Tiki bars hidden down lonely stretches of road that seemingly take you straight into the ocean if you take a left or straight into the bay if you take a right. Mind you, once you get into the Keys there’s only one way in and one way out. You can either drive North or South. I could raise hell in one of my secret hideouts and no one would be the wiser up in the mainland - what Keys residence refer to when they talk of Miami as if we were in the Philippines.
You can’t get away with shit here in Palm Beach with everything centered around Cityplace, Lantana, Los Olas, and a few spots along A1A. It hasn’t even been six months yet and I’ve already run into two former aquaintances. Luckily on the first encounter I saw her but she didn’t see me. I had just enough time to duck into a Banana Republic where I ran into Greg Behrendt maticulously picking out one of those metrosexual-looking sweaters. I don’t have anything against Greg nor am I homophobic or even remotely close to it but I wouldn’t buy shit from Banana Republic. Their clothes are specifically designed for men with recessive genes that do not have any hope or desire of gaining any muscle mass—period.
Okay, I digress. Anyways, I crossed paths with a journalist by the name of Scott that runs his own entertainment website called The South Florida Insider while at a 
business meeting where he talked me into tagging along with him to interview an up and coming musician by the name of Teri Catlin (pictured right). She was playing at The Bamboo Room, a joint that was more akin to my drunken, crazed rugby days. There is no food at this joint. Nothing but straight beer and liquor. Teri simply rocks on that straight Lenny Kravitz vibe. Her voice is unmistakably like that of Linda Perry (pictured left), former lead singer of the 80’s band ‘4 Non Blondes’ 
and she plays like Jimmi Hendrix but with a Stevie Ray Vahn twang. However, her band is a little something to be desired.
So I’m just setting myself up for another restful weekend when Scott calls me up again to do a tag along while he interviewed a fist full of punk rock bands. I’m at this joint jamming to these relatively unknown punk rock bands and identifying influences from Disco to The Ramones to ballad bands like Queensryche or Journey and a little Henry Rollins and Green Day—I’m slipping back into my college days when Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots and Alice N’ Chains flowed through my veins.
Tastey little barely legal chicks and professional groupie females
crawling all over the place. A gorgeous, thick babydoll working the bar at the pub down the street has an ass that would make Jennifer Lopez blush eyeballs me as I step inside for a change of pace and to catch the Trinidad/Roy Jones Jr. fight but I’m fixated on this honey’s apple round ass……I’m slipping…I’m in trouble…..
Reader Comments (2)
the beginnings of another interesting chapter...
the beginnings of another interesting chapter...