what is the word

Life is a bowl of cherries down here in Southern Florida. It's hot as hell & I swim every day. I lay out by the pool smoking & reading Tender is the Night & it is very, very hot. Is anything hotter than Southern Florida? Well, yes.
Everybody in Miami wants to know what New York is like but more insistently, they want to know what someone who lives in New York (I don't know when if ever I will dare to call myself a New Yorker -- possibly not for another fifteen years or so) thinks of Miami.
Getting drunk at a dive called the Barracuda with my new friends, I told them I thought that women in New York had beautiful faces & impeccable clothes, & most of the time their bodies were just ok. The girls in Miami have killer bodies, every single one of them, but by & large their faces are cute, at best. To say nothing of their fashion, which is a lot of tight white pants, pastel or metallic sandals, & Louis Vuitton bags. They really like things to match. It isn't a bad look, actually, tho you'd better have the Miami body if you want to pull it off.
I spent the better part of the evening trying to decide from whom I should run away faster: my middle-aged, slightly oily pool partner Tito, who kept showing off his mediocre French & Italian when he found out I used to live in Switzerland; or the not-pretty-enough Norwegian girl who lifted up my skirt while I was lining up a shot & kept sticking her big fat boobs in my face while she leaned in way too close to tell me about how much time she wanted to spend with me while I was here. I stuck it out with Tito because he was a really good player & he had his own cue & we were running the table.
So I ended up talking, or rather listening, politics with my friend's boyfriend for ages, & finally leaving when my bag of weed arrived, which was the reason I'd stuck around so long. Back at the hotel I stuffed some shreds of it into a cigarette & ended up falling asleep incredibly stoned. So stoned I had dreams I was stoned, very much uncomfortably stoned. So I've definitely got more than enough grass to get me thru another week of semi-lingual pool players & wasted Norwegian hoes. Altho if I can make it out to the monkey jungle, I might need another bag.