… was in Miami with a bunch of friends. It was late night, Friday, and we had muscled our way into Mango’s, the tourist hot spot ne plus ultra on Ocean Drive. Think lithe waitresses in leopard skin spandex. Think central bar peninsula on which talented employees dance salsa, skirts spinning, heels flashing but inches from the drinks. Think raucous music, neon lights, throngs of wide eyed tourists drinking it all in and paying $14 for their drinks.

The place was packed. We’d been drinking. The couple up on the bar had just finished their dance, and the guy caught sight of my friend, Prav, ogling the girl. He pointed at Prav, and then pointed at her. Prav’s grin widened to the point of pain. The dancer beckoned to him, and we shoved him forward, laughing and taking his drink from his nerveless hand. The ground floor of Mango’s is open to the second and third floor, which are balconied. Everybody was watching.

The dancer explained through gestures; it was too loud to talk. Prav was to sit on the bar and face him. The woman would dance slowly and gyrate her ass all over the back of his head. Prav could not believe his good fortune, and hopped up on the bar, basking in the cries and howls and laughter than rained down upon him from hundreds of throats.

The dancer placed a finger on each of Prav’s temples, and locked his head in place, ensuring that they had eye contact. The dancer, a beautiful Latina goddess, stepped back. The bouncer leapt up on the bar, which fairly shook under his muscled mass. The Mango’s men were known up and down the beach for lifting the heaviest weights and taking the hardest drugs. This guy must have weighed in at almost four hundreds pound, his leather jacket open over his massively muscled black chest. He stepped up to where Prav sat, and turned around.

The place went nuts. We were falling over where we stood, dropping our drinks. The bouncer lowered his huge ass onto Prav’s head, and began to grind it down shamelessly. Prav’s eyes rolled up in his head and he began to drool. Mango’s turned into a madhouse. Finally the bouncer leaped back down behind the bar, and Prav’s head was released. The girl stepped back into place, and waved down coyly at him when he craned his head around to stare up at her, love written all over his face.

We were in hysterics. Prav staggered over to us, thinking at first that we were cheering him on. But we laughed too hard, and too long. Finally, as we finally quietened down, he took his drink, and rubbed his head. “She was a bit… vigorous, wasn’t she?” he asked.

We died all over again.