It’s been Twilo and Stereo—and now, heaven forfend, it’s ParkWest, which as someone pointed out, seems more like a moniker for a retirement home—but last night, the Club With No Fixed Name became Hilton’s House, starring Manny and Tony.  The inaugural event of Hilton’s new monthly Saturday night party called BPM (aka Boyz Per Minute, or Best Party in Miami), the night was a perfect opportunity to deposit more good karma in a space still evolving.  This was less Manny BoomBoom than Latin Manny with his salsa-flecked “Let’s Get This Party Started Right”—and that’s just what he did.

What with the differing ETA of the FTL and MIA crowds (approximately a ninety-minute delay for those living closest to the club), there was time to scope out the décor between cocktails and conversation (and concern for those accidentally squashed vitamins…) Under massive chandeliers, we noted the better half of Equinox Fitness as well as that California model who showed up at last year’s Winter Party—and never left.  And even a couple boyz wearing our version of thug—which means gay thug with a twist. 

And then, suddenly—EVERYTHING KICKED!  As if everyone knew right then that this was the moment to go off.  Or to paraphrase that MasterCard ad, How much is it worth to party with professionals?  PRICELESS.  Let’s hear it for those irrepressible SoFla boyz!  Boyz with no qualms about jumping around, their faces all smiles.  Or more concisely, as Britney would have it, “Gimme More.”

There were men with shoulders like Matthew Rush (“How do you get a neck like that?” “Oh, puhleeze—is that a serious question? Do you read the papers—we are the news.”)—and a pretty young thing, a younger Jonny McGovern, scoping out the scene, soon to make it his, his t-shirt admonishing GET SOME EVERYDAY—to which there was no other response but “Happily.” 

Last night’s BPM quickly became the kind of party where maybe you were supposed to leave at a certain hour, maybe because you had to get to work in the a.m.—but when that appointed hour hit, and you’ve got a dick in your hand and a smile on your face—ain’t no way you were leaving. “Take a breath.  Feel my heartbeat.  Every flash like a strobe light flash. Baby, better make it last.  MAKE IT LAST.” 

And when Tony took over and let loose with “La Mustika,” clouds of carbon dioxide enveloped the floor—leaving the boyz as close to heaven as they wished to be here on earth. 

Small wonder that as we were leaving, we watched two fresh-faced arrivals bounding up the entrance stairs, giddy from all that they could suddenly see—in front of them.  “Make it last.”

And to think this was but the opening salvo of a three-party New Year’s Eve weekend—  Second act tonight—Last Dance with David Knapp at Gerry Kelly’s gorgeous new club The Fifth.  And then, for the finale, Monday night’s Masterbeat Miami 2008 at SoHo Studios with DJ Abel—a full twelve-hour concert.  As the song says, “Make it last”—there’ll be plenty of time for sleep next year.