LIV It Up: How To Turn 21 At A Robin Schulz Show In Miami

Mark Wolf
Hi I'm Mark and I'm tryna write my wrongs but it's funny those same wrongs help me write these posts. Follow on Twitter and Instagram: @wolftempura

It’s the morning of November 12 and you wake up for the first time as a 21-year-old. Your 6-year-old brother stands in the doorframe with a smile on his face and wishes you a happy birthday. You thank him and swing your legs over the side of your sister’s old bed before walking into the family room. Last night’s champagne is still on the dining room table from when your father welcomed you into “adulthood.” Birthday texts start coming in from close friends and a smile spreads on your face. Your friends send warm birthday wishes and you respond in kind. You drink your coffee for the first time as a legal eagle.

Your father drops you off at your apartment so you can enjoy your big day. You wonder what’s the appropriate thing to do when you have a small window of free time on your 21st birthday. When in doubt, walk your dog. When in doubt, do the dishes. When in doubt, smoke. Your girl texts you that she’s on her way so you hop in the shower.

By 10 p.m., the only thing left is to do is hit the club. You play Robin Schulz on the drive down to LIV. The hotel entrance to the club has more lines than on a glass table.

The club immediately swallows you with its art, lights and scent after several important men grant you access. You walk down the main stairs and notice a half pipe bubbling with skaters at the far end of the club. You buy your first legal drink and walk toward the half pipe. Its neon green and orange artwork are lit a stage-wide LCD screen that’s flashing “Future House” animations. You give props to the skaters for bringing fresh energy to the club. You bob your head to Mednas’s opening set and walk past Grutman the Redeemer on your way to the smoking section.

You come back and head to the bar for your second drink. The bartender gives you a tequila-heavy margarita. You hear ‘Whassup Miami!” and look to the booth. There he is — black ray bands, snapback and goatee. Robin Schulz pulls both his volume fader and the entire crowd. Little black dresses stand up on the booth and whip out their phones out while button down shirts shout in anticipation. The beat drops.

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You make your way to the crowded dance floor with your girl and raise your hand with a shout. Teal and pink LED lights on the ceiling dome echo Victoria’s Secret bikinis from the beach yesterday, how appropriate. Robin drops Oliver Helden’s hit “Can’t Stop Playing” and CO2 blasts white adrenaline into the crowd, blinding everyone for the first few bars of the drop. Your drink is almost finished and your inhibitions are standing outside the club. Your leather boots move like James Brown, sticking to the spilled drinks on the floor. Your +1 shakes her hips on you. You yell with the crowd as another beat drops.

A femme fatale LIV vixen locks eyes with you on her way to serve drinks at the table to your left. She’s wearing a one-piece bathing suit, thigh-high boots and fishnets. You get a death stare from her and your jeans are immediately way too tight. Your +1 laughs at you for adjusting the skin-tight faux leather. She knows what’s up.

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You continue dancing and notice a cute blonde girl to your right snapping the DJ. This is as good a moment as any to get her Snapchat. She enters her username while your girl gives you the “you get a free pass on your birthday but wow” look. Hi Julia.

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You bite into a lime from your margarita and wonder if partying is the responsible thing to be doing when there are unfilled cavities in your mouth. It probably isn’t.

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You step out to catch your breath and so your +1 can smoke. You’re surprised at how the club is jumpin’ like the 1999 Destiny’s Child hit. Robin Schulz is known for calmer beat but in Miami he’s jumping, swatting invisible flies and cheering. It’s 3 a.m. and you hit the road with heavy eyelids. She demands you stay awake so you blast music and sang along. You get home in record time and leave the fatigue in the car. She goes to change out of her dress, thinking that it was time to sleep. What she didn’t know was that the bell for round three had been ringing since the episode on the dance floor. You finish, exhale in relief and hit the showers, grateful to Robin Schulz for making the night a fond memory.