Miami Just Went Open Carry. Now What?
Miami never needed open carry. I always assumed this.
I always assumed everyone in the 305 was already strapped — not because I saw it, but because you can feel it. That sixth sense that tells you, “don’t honk at that Corolla with the bumper hanging off, she might have a little friend in the trunk.”
But now Florida has gone official. And Miami? Oh, we’re about to take this law, bedazzle it, slap a tropical shirt on it, and parade it like Art Basel.
Road Rage: Rated R
Let’s be honest. Road rage was already Miami’s national sport. But now? Welcome to The Lexus-ist.
Forget horror films about possessed little girls — possession already happens on the 836 at 5 PM. Sweet little abuelita cuts you off, you flip her off… next thing you know she’s speaking in tongues: “The power of the left lane compels you!”
Traffic reports will sound like Call of Duty lobbies. And even if you’re the perfect driver — speed limit, blinker, seatbelt — you’re still the problem. Miami doesn’t reward good driving. It punishes it.
Schwartz would say we’re dramatizing a desire here — the desire to get home alive. Burr would say: “Even Jesus would roll down his window and be like, ‘Get thee behind me, Hyundai!’” Kennedy would add: “And you’ll laugh, because laughing at death is the only way you’ll survive.”
Presence Is the Threat
Here’s the real Miami twist: with open carry, you don’t even have to use the gun. Just being there is enough.
- Cheating on your Latina girlfriend? That’s not infidelity anymore. That’s a life threatening situation.
- Construction workers closing off an extra lane? Don’t argue — just salute the holster and take the detour.
- Owe somebody money? Forget Venmo requests. They’ll Zelle you a bullet invoice.
- Parking attendant writes you a ticket while strapped? That’s not harassment. That’s customer service. You tip him.
Miami didn’t need more bullets. We needed more reasons to say, “You right, bro. My bad.”
Fashion Statement: Pimp My Glock
In the Midwest, pro-gun people wear camo from Bass Pro. In Miami? Tropical shirts are camouflage now. Tommy Bahama tactical gear.
Oh, you bought a Rolex? Cute. My Glock stops time for you.
We’re gonna have pistols with vinyl wraps, glitter, LED lights. You don’t get shot in Miami — you get installed at Art Basel. Last thing you see before hitting the pavement is a Dragon Ball Z Glock and some flip-flops.
That’s the thing: in Miami, it’s never about function. It’s always about flex. Even guns become fashion week.
Women Protection, Miami Style
Ladies, congrats. Nobody’s catcalling when you’re walking your Yorkie with a Hello Kitty revolver strapped to your hip.
But let’s be honest — Miami women still want attention. They don’t want no catcalls. They want selective catcalls, from men who can bench 225 and own a jet ski. If you try to say hello and she pulls the strap? That’s feedback. Time to hit the gym, and get your money right papi.
And if it does go to trial? Miami lawyers got you: “Your honor, my client had no choice. That BBL provoked the incident.”
Prevention Over Protection
This is the real lesson. Open carry isn’t about safety. It’s about survival.
Women want tall men for protection? Forget that. A tall boyfriend is just a bigger target. That’s not safety — that’s a human lightning rod.
Get yourself a short king with the gift of gab. A man who can talk his way out of anything. Who dodges bullets because of his wingspan. Who befriends the guy ready to rob you.
Forget tall, dark, and handsome. In Miami open carry, you want short, smart, and bilingual. That’s not a boyfriend — that’s a survival gene.
GTA Was Just a Documentary
Why did Florida do this? Simple: GTA 6 is set in Vice City. You think Rockstar wants to code fantasy? No — they want realism. Open carry Miami isn’t law. It’s marketing.
And Miami is ready. We already live like a video game:
- Lambo high-speed chases.
- Bricks of cocaine washing up on shore.
- HOA meetings that feel like cartel summits.
- Nightclubs that double as boss levels.
Every day is “Press Start to Continue.”