Punk-Rocking It Out At The Bucket
The time is 11:45 pm on a Saturday, and you couldn’t go to Ultra.
Instead you’re in Allapattah at a new venue, Miami Chum Bucket, 1545 NW 28th St.
Outside you smell Marlboro Reds and a mixture of beer and perspiration. Upon entering the classroom-sized venue, you confuse the mosh pit and crowd with a wine orgy in the time of Caligula.
The music is loud. There is no A/C. The musicians, shirtless and glazed in sweat, ignore the uncomfortable heat and carry on with their sets. People spray beer and water all over the circle dancing crowd to cool them off, and several empty kegs of beer sit on a corner, still cold after being emptied in 30 minutes one by one only hours ago.
Louis Ortiz—A.K.A. Roach—a nursing major at North Campus, runs Miami Chum Bucket.
He watches the entrance, simultaneously chatting with friends and discussing his thoughts.
“The turn-out was surprisingly good.” Roach says.
He bobs his head, singing a song. Later he and his band Eztorbo Social take the stage. Soon 10 gallons of home-brewed beer is distributed by the Hissing Leper for free in the outside area; banana flavored ale in unlabeled pint bottles.
Roach and his friends have collectively worked to open Miami Chum Bucket for more than a year.
The purpose of this place is to have a haven for alternative arts like graffiti, skateboarding and potentially a place for thriving musical talent to perform.
For people who want to get away with wearing spike studded army boots and a big pink mohawk to work, the punks have gone out of their way to not have to occupy someone else’s space.
Relatively speaking, Miami Chum Bucket is a more controlled environment than a kindergarten classroom.
When Eztorbo and the bearded audio guy behind an industrial sized fan join in, the tired crowd prepares for one last round of circle dancing and tossing petite girls in jean shorts into the air.
In this violent fun, no one gets hurt. The line between violent behavior and violence is a thick one every punk must understand or you’ll be chased out with broken bottles and sharp jewelry. When the band is done, you can go outside and finish your ale.
Roach waves away patrons by the chain link fence; it’s 2 a.m. now, Sunday.
How about breakfast?
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