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I’m sitting at lunch at Lattanzi Cucina Italiana in Manhattan, inspired by Lady Gaga and fiancé Michael Polansky’s dinner date there during the week she hosted SNL. My mom and I are reliving the night before, where we attended the first Mayhem Ball at Madison Square Garden, reeling from her piano rendition of “Hair” over glasses of Pinot Grigio and plates of pollo con peperoni.
My friend Julie texts me.
“How was it?” she asks, referencing the show from the previous night.
“Incredible,” I respond.
“Want to come to Florida and go to the Miami show next weekend?”
I laugh, and hypothetically say, “Um yes.” But despite my light take at her suggestion, the conversation quickly turns serious, and before the bill even arrives at Lattanzi, I’m on the Delta app booking a flight to Fort Lauderdale.
While Gaga was the driving factor, there was another incentive in it for me, too. Despite having traveled to over 90 countries across all seven continents, I had still never been to Miami. Truth be told, Miami was never at the top of my list. I imagined the city to be the Las Vegas of Florida: a kitschy, overpriced theme park for adults with ridiculously good looks and workout routines that consumed half their day to keep up with said good looks. Someone like me, a gritty, tough-as-nails New Yorker with a loud Italian-American accent and the attitude to match, would never fit in in a place like Miami. But for Gaga and Julie, I was finally willing to find out firsthand.
Less than a week later, I landed in Fort Lauderdale. Julie was one of my closest friends in NYC, but she made the move during the pandemic for a more comfortable life. My gigcation to see Gaga was a perfect excuse to double it as a chance to see Julie’s new stomping grounds, and of course, to see her two adorable cats.
We hit the town in Fort Lauderdale, first heading to Pier Sixty-Six to check out Pier Top, a rotating rooftop bar offering 360-degree views of the Atlantic. We sipped mermaid-inspired cocktails made with Lalo Tequila Blanco and grapefruit sherbet, and I got my legally required lobster roll that I need every time I’m in a seaside city. Afterward, Julie brought me to The Pub, the best gay bar in town, and her husband even convinced Brian Mason, the bar’s weekly entertainer and host, to let me jump onstage to sing a song (where I obviously sang “You and I” by Lady Gaga).
The next day was show day. In a sluggish state, we drove down to Miami and needed a cure from our wild night out, which came in the form of chicken tenders and champagne from American Social. Providing just enough relief from our questionable decisions the night prior, we then checked into the Four Seasons Hotel Miami and promptly ordered a bottle of Moët to the room, since, at that point, it didn’t make sense to get ready for a Lady Gaga show without some bubbly. You can imagine the man working room service’s surprise when he opened the door to deliver our precious goods, only to see me half dressed in fishnets and leather as I was slowly transforming into my Little Monster gear.
Simply needing more cocktails, we headed to The Elser Hotel’s Bayview Terrace Rooftop for espresso martinis and empanadas before our short walk to Kaseya Center, where Lady Gaga would be performing.
We made our way to our nosebleeds, which wound up being incredible seats (never let being in an upper section trick you, my view here was just as good as my one at Madison Square Garden). Julie and I scream-sang through her entire two-and-a-half-hour set, losing our voices during “Bad Romance” and “Disease,” holding each other’s hands during ballads like “Million Reasons” and “Die With a Smile,” and singing Ariana Grande’s harmonies in the surprise piano rendition of “Rain on Me.”
The next day was for rest and recovery, and when you’re staying at the Four Seasons, that means rotting by a pool. We went ahead and reserved a cabana for ourselves as soon as we made our reservation at the Four Seasons, knowing we would need the day to sweat out champagne and chicken fingers in the sun. Hey, what can I say? Being in your 30s and 40s looks a lot different than partying in New York in your 20s. We got a plate of fresh Floridian fruit and a smashburger for balance, and naturally, we ordered drinks.
The day after the show was one of those glorious days where I lost track of time, the most “vacation” part of my gigcation. Julie and I bopped around the pool with cocktail in hand, catching up on the mundanities of everyday life, digging into deep conversations about our current struggles, and laughing just as hard as we used to when we were at dinner or bars in New York when we lived in the same city. As one last hurrah, we had our most civilized moment of the trip with dinner at Nuna, a Nikkei-style restaurant (blending Peruvian and Japanese cuisines), where we indulged in Wagyu and truffle dumplings and so many rounds of tuna nigiri that we lost track.
I love Lady Gaga for many reasons, and I wonder if she knew the impact she has on people like me: a gal who has traveled near and far but only popped her Miami cherry due to her being the driving factor. Not only did the Mayhem Ball give me the opportunity to see a show, a cathartic experience in itself, but it gave me the perfect excuse to hang out with one of my best friends in a city I can now finally say I’ve visited. And yet, the show was only a droplet in an ocean of my long weekend in South Florida, providing me with the perfect excuse to explore somewhere new, and a city I’m now excited to return to.
Lady Gaga’s Mayhem Ball starts its North American reprise on February 14 in Arizona and wraps up on April 13 in New York.