After strolling just 20 feet into the Miami Beach Convention Center, the Basel epicenter, I am dazzled by the swirl of it all. The giant white walls stamped with masses of color transport me to a strange world, one inhabited exclusively by elegant people carrying designer handbags, with the soft hum of their many different languages hanging in the air.

I begin by wandering aimlessly, gaining my bearings and trying not to stumble over pieces of avant-garde sculpture jutting into the path. The Basel big-wigs selected over 250 international galleries to participate, and major players — Deitch, Gagosian — are set up just inside the entryway. The blue-chip galleries’ artworks are not labeled with the artists’ names — I suppose because an original Koons doesn’t need a label, and if you have to ask, well then you’re not who the people at Gagosian want to talk to anyway. Among all the super-big-name artists, though, I find a few new favorites, and their work tends to be neon-colored or to make use of text. (Is it obvious I’m a writer and a child of the ’80s?) If you are so inclined, check out the strong colors and shapes of brothers Gert and Uwe Tobias and the semi-representational/semi-creepy work of Albert Oehlen.

After I pass Val Kilmer in the hallway, sporting a cowboy hat and looking much slimmer than he has of late, it’s time to GTFO and give my feet and eyeballs a rest. I head around the corner to Lincoln Road, an outdoor mall with plenty of bars where I can enjoy a beverage while watching the crowds roll by. Things you don’t see in Sarasota: good-looking same-sex couples holding hands, cops on Segways and Gucci man-bags (except when Sarasota Ballet director Iain Webb rocks one, of course). I end my Friday at the divey Club Deuce with a few PBRs while a Keith Richards look-alike sitting across from me alternately poses for photos and makes out with one of the three girls crowded around him.

Saturday is rainy and chilly, but I manage to make it over to the SCOPE Miami Art Fair in the hip Wynwood area by late afternoon. Scope is one of the top satellite shows in town and and is a bit edgier and more affordable than the main fair — if thousands of dollars for a piece still counts as affordable. I am again thrilled by lots of bright colors, like in the work of Jen Stark, Sara Carter and Shawne Major, and am also pleased by the number of female artists represented. Aside from the main rooms, SCOPE houses a special Art Asia section, with lots of shiny sculptures and meticulously arranged objets d’art as well as a separate Art Market with edgy goods for sale from mostly local artisans.

As SCOPE shuts down I dawdle down the dim streets to see more of the Wynwood district’s regular artsy inhabitants, popping into dozens of small galleries ranging from fun and funky to clean and stark. At the Fountain Art Fair, another pop-up satellite show, the work gets even wilder, predominantly centered around sex, capitalism and spray paint. One artist has built himself a fort in the midst of his booth and stands atop it in a dirty bunny suit listening to mid-’90s New York rap. The scene is super-hipstery, with fake bags of cocaine lying on the bar top and skinny boys in tight pants chatting up even skinnier girls in ugly glasses. I’m once again hitting an art-saturation point and duck into Miami mainstay The Vagabond to chill out and wild out as the night rolls on. Before I know it, the clock strikes 5, which may or may not mean I called it a night and went home. . .

My weekend in Miami has been everything I’ve hoped: art up to my eyeballs, lots of crazy characters, and a few great clubs with kick-ass music. You can count on my return to Art Basel 2010, and hopefully earlier in the week next year for the official vernissage and even more celebrity sightings.

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