White Party is almost over, but I have departed the scene anyway. Most of us worked 20 hour days and--although I realize that "working" doesn't necessarily mean assembling something in a factory here--it still mean't a constant attention to activity even if a cocktail was in hand. You would come home, collapse, and reassemble yourself the next day. I stopped taking photos days ago, but did capture one of the "moments" with Dave ("Miss Bea"), our favorite gay Mormon.


Dave is one of those exceptionally positive people who understands that the reason you visit South Beach is to have fun. So, it did not surprise me to find him with his hands down Emiliano's pants; doesn't everyone want to do that?

Then, I noticed a very handsome couple and loudly inquired, "Just what are they looking for here? I know it's Bi-sexual night, but...." Dave cut me off and just exclaimed, "Well, I'll find out!" He found out that they were engaged to be married in a couple of months and just liked the atmosphere.

Within seconds it was established that the girl had no problem with attention of men to her betrothed, that she would even think of watching something, and the boyfriend was unbuttoning his shirt for all of to admire. And there was much to admire.

Dave asked, "Do you mind having your nipples pinched by other men?" and the guy said, "Hell, no" which I thought, "This is the way to start White Party". South Beach is kooky; there are those who understand that it is an Anything Goes place and make the best of it without the attitude and uptightness.

Before I came home I watched thousands of people--all types--engaged in or observing the great beach dance that is held every year. At 8 PM barges just off the coast set off a splendid array of fireworks and it was a little emotional to realize again that I am lucky enough to live in a city which celebrates diversity like that. There are so many less lucky.