Drunk Shopping Fixed Everything (Almost)
Because when the cabana is a lie, you buy a new outfit
Hello, hello, hello—
Aries season came in hot, chaotic, and slightly unhinged… which feels correct for me, personally. As you already know, I threw myself a fabulous birthday dinner—La Dolce Mika—and one would assume that after hosting my own cinematic Italian fever dream, I would’ve taken a moment to rest. Reflect. Hydrate. Be still.
We did not.
Spring arrived, and with it, Easter weekend. My Virgo bestie Jenny hosted a wholesome, family-friendly Easter Sunday situation. As the happily childless guncle, I showed up exactly how you’d expect: arms full of candy-filled eggs and zero intention of participating in anything athletic. The invite said, “lace up your running shoes and bring your competitive spirit,” and I said, “I will be attending… as a spectator.” And I meant that. The most physical activity I did was casually tossing plastic eggs like I was the Easter Bunny’s slightly more glamorous cousin.
Speaking of plastic eggs—how have these not been canceled? The plastic straw community is fighting for its life, and yet we’re out here launching hundreds of neon plastic eggs into the environment for sport? No one’s concerned? Just something to think about.
Anyway. It was hot. Like offensively hot. The kind of heat where your outfit starts betraying you immediately. Swamp ass was not a possibility—it was a guarantee. The second that egg hunt wrapped, I exited stage left like my life depended on it. The heat is not for me. I am delicate. I am indoor.
After surviving both Easter and my inbox, I escaped to the Keys for Julie’s birthday weekend. We left Friday afternoon, strategically avoiding traffic like the seasoned South Florida veterans we are. Saturday morning, we lingered, we sipped, we existed—and then made our way to Key West with a plan: chic boutique hotel, poolside cabana, effortless glamour.
I should’ve known.
For context, I’ve been going to the Keys forever. Key West is basically a recurring character in my life at this point. I even knew of this hotel from a ghost tour I once did (yes, of course I did). It’s since been renovated, and let me tell you—the lobby? STUNNING. Pinterest board come to life. If the story ended there, this would be a very different review.
We get to the pool and… baby. The photos online are doing heavy lifting. Olympic-level. The pool in real life is giving “someone’s aunt’s backyard,” while the website is selling luxury resort fantasy. It’s not a filter—it’s a full-blown catfish. I was expecting White Lotus, I got suburban splash zone.
But wait—it gets better.
We arrive looking cute, ready to lounge, live, laugh, cabana… and are immediately placed in a 30-minute holding pattern because no one wants to explain why we can’t access our reservation. Eventually, a manager appears and hits us with the plot twist: our cabana is already occupied. Love that for us.
We’re told it was “double-booked,” but somehow not in the system. So the reservation existed… spiritually. At this point, we’re promised a full refund and complimentary drinks, which—okay—now we’re open to healing.
After more waiting and confusion (heavy on the confusion), they track down the cabana occupant, who casually mentions she just left her stuff there earlier. Like this is a communal storage unit? Anyway, we do eventually get the cabana, but by then the vibe has gone through all five stages of grief.
Now, I will say—the staff? Absolute angels. Kind, attentive, checking in on us like concerned friends after a bad breakup. They did everything they could, and I genuinely appreciated them.
But between the cabana musical chairs, the wait, and the visual deception… the experience was not giving what it needed to give. I tried to rise above it. I really did.
And then I had a few drinks.
Suddenly, I’m feeling alive again. Reborn. Slightly dangerous. While the girls were tanning, I wandered off into the streets of Key West and, two hours later, returned with two new outfits. Because nothing heals disappointment like a little drunk shopping.
We left to regroup before going back out that night, which ended up being exactly my speed: one bar, pizza, and goodbye. Efficient. Chic. Perfect.
And because we clearly didn’t learn our lesson… we went back to Key West on Sunday.
We wanted a proper breakfast moment. Saturday’s breakfast at The Big Pine Rooster? Divine. Life-changing. 1000/10. No notes.
Sunday, however, we went to Blue Heaven because TikTok said it was the spot. And I would just like to formally announce that TikTok lied. Boldly. We waited an hour and twenty minutes for a meal that was… not worth the emotional journey.
While waiting, we wandered over to Moondog Cafe & Bakery, which looked incredible and is exactly where we shouldhave eaten. So if you’re ever in Key West, go there instead. Learn from me.
Not me accidentally turning this into a Yelp review…
Anyway. Aries season? 10/10 chaos. Would do it again.