Well, I suppose we should have seen it coming.

Spank Rock & the Rub got cancelled at the last minute. Or, so they said. Instead of rapid-fire funk and ghetto breaks, our ears were assaulted with pumping house. We were informed by an extremely drunk employee of the Marlin that the last-minute DJ showcase thrown together and taped to the door in no-frills centered, black-on-white lettering was the “Tampa Sound.” Whatever constitutes the “Tampa Sound,” it sounded like shit to me, so we hoofed it over to see what else we could run into.

The Chelsea and Chesterfield were not really our scene, and I think I was on point of giving up, when Ross remembered the Whitelaw- now if we could only find it. A couple blocks and a question or two later and we did, full of crazy mothers and some actually goddamn decent house. Glasses guy certainly approved:

So we stayed and danced ’til 5 (it was a strict 5 to boot, they cut the power on that right on the top of the hour. I suppose their guests have to sleep sometime). While it lasted it was a sweaty (very sweaty) and fitting end to a half-weeks worth of revelry. J Phlip finished out the night with one of the best house sets I’ve heard in a long long time- inventive, stylistically varied, and danceable as hell. As hard as I shook it this weekend, the Whitelaw was the funkiest. Even Ross busted out some P-Funk moves. Oh, did I mention that J (Jessica) Phlip is also absolutely gorgeous and totally my new DJ crush? Yeah, I did:

5 A.M. seemed to be the unofficial cutoff time for all the Hotel parties on the central side of South Beach, so we wandered around a bit more, discussing the whole crazy experience, made ourselves each a gin & juice, and slowly wound our way up Meridian to get some well-deserved rest.

[Mallory O’Donnell]