Watch Me Turn 30, by Ashley N.
Question of the year: Is spending your late 20s living on South Beach and island-hopping the Caribbean as a career a) every responsible adult's fantasy or b) totally outlandish and ultimately unfulfilling for a semi-responsible adult who still places an abnormally high priority on fun? Perhaps the mere concept of what constitutes adulthood has been distorted due to my surroundings.

Through this blog, I hope to figure out what being "almost 30" really means to me...hopefully, before the big b-day next January.

Thanks goes to Holly C. for, first and foremost, agreeing to go on one of my press trips to the 'burbs of Fort Lauderdale and ultimately passing this site along to me.
the photo for March 12, 2008
DAY 61  |  March 12, 2008

Much like Cinderella, I have always been pretty certain that my beach cruiser would turn into a pumpkin if I ever ventured east of Washington Avenue after dark on a weeknight. But when my friend Andrew called and asked me to come out for his birthday, I couldn’t say no. Andrew is my oldest friend in Miami…we’re from the same hometown and have known each other since we were 18, so I had to represent.

Anyhow, his girlfriend told him that he could do anything he wanted for his birthday and of his zillion or so choices, all he wanted to do was go to Wet Willie’s, have a grain alcohol-infused frozen drink and gawk at tourists. “It’s just like the zoo,” he told me. “We can watch every species of human at Wet Willie’s” More like a safari…no cages separating the well-meaning, laid back locals from wannabe rap stars on rented scooters, girls in 6-inch stilettos and 3-inch skirts and bums selling hats made of palm fronds.

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