Your day to day diary of what’s happening on the other side of the Atlantic with Dan Prince
And now it’s getting really fuzzy. I had forgotten what a week in Miami at the Conference felt like as the week goes on. Parties blend into one, DJs all begin to sound the same and you find yourself going through the Yellow Pages looking for doctors who may know someone who can perform Liver Transplants. I think I have come over here with the craziest person I have met. Day 5 by the pool. Steve and Defected’s Toni Tambourine descend poolside wearing pink children’s knickers and bright blue (too small) Speedo’s, perform a circus display walking on their hands, posing for a US magazine photo shoot in front of 300 people and generally leaving a lot of Americans with their mouth open – whilst I hide under a towel. The security in clubs over here is weird this year. Smoking in bars, restaurants and clubs is still allowed and the amount of times I have walked by someone smoking Crack is unbelievable. So being driven around clubland by a Government official who is the Head of Entertainment for Miami was slightly odd, having dinner with the Billionaire daughter of the owner of America’s biggest Construction company in the States slightly weird and dancing with Jade Jagger on a balcony at silly o’clock, verging on strange. This week beats a week in Ibiza by a country mile. Sitting in an Art Gallery in one of the roughest part’s of the city at 4am with a group of people including a gangster with a gun pushed down his pants and listening to tales of celebrity gossip via one of the biggest journalist’s in the UK – bonkers. My favourite story? The one about a certain TV car programme presenter who has a massive Cocaine problem, last time this journalist saw this guy was in the toilet’s of a Private Member’s club in London where telly man was moaning that he’d bought ten grammes of coke earlier that day and it was now all gone. Some American’s really don’t know how not to chat up a girl – at the Dave Seaman/Nick Warren party last night and overhearing a guy go up to a beautiful girl and saying to her “do you like chicken? Well suck my cock, it’s fowl.” So I suppose he went home alone. So, when I want to change the look of a room in my house decor wise, I put a budget of around a few grand into it. Thus when you learn that The Fontainbleau Resort Hotel (where the Conference in Miami began all those years ago) has just had $800 million Dollars spent on it, well that beats my new wallpaper and scatter cushions. The Liv venue inside the hotel is just, simply, one of the best clubs I have ever seen. Morillo took the roof off, Puff Daddy, Diddy or whatever he’s called these days rocked the stage, The Sultan of Brunei had more security than Barack Obama and the atmosphere was electric. The Ultra Festival day one was the best festy I have ever been to (see seperate feature) and just blew my socks off. Which finally brings me back to travelling buddy Steve who rolled into the hotel room at 8am and whilst drifting off into Sleeping Tablet drowsiness, admitted to me he once shit himself in his sleep – in a sleeping bag.
