Ernesto Torres, known to even casual acquaintances as a paradigmatic rich Miami asshole, pulled his off-white Rolls-Royce Phantom into the Shell gas station on the corner of US-1 and SW 27th Ave. The 47-year-old Caracas native sported an immaculately tailored Italian...
Exasperated with Miamians’ habit of arriving late to parties, conferences, classes, baptisms, weddings, funerals, breakfasts, brunches, lunches, dinners, and every other conceivable appointment, the Commerce Department’s National Institute of Standards and Technology...
“We want to scare the shit out of Cubans,” said Dominic Infante, manager of ¡Ño Que Asusto!, the world’s first haunted house designed specifically for Cubans and Cuban-Americans. “The first thing we do is convince them they’ve entered a post-apocalyptic world.” Asked...
“God dammit!” shouted Jeffrey Lisicki, owner of the Crimson Rose, Saint Augustine’s premier haunted bed and breakfast. “We lost another ghost!” “That’s the third this month!” cried Sarah Lisicki, his business partner and wife. “Soon, there be any ghosts left in the...
It’s 2 AM. You’ve been at your cousin’s party for the last five hours. You desperately want to leave, drive home, and collapse onto your bed. You’d love nothing more than to walk straight out of your this house while diligently avoiding eye contact with every human...
In the first study of its kind, the Pew Research Center released a nationwide municipal “Marry, Fuck, Kill” survey in which Miami ranked squarely in the middle classification. Over 20,000 individuals from diverse racial, gender, and sexual preference backgrounds...