Makin like Larvell Jones and heading to Miami for New Year’s. Miami, the land of cocaine cowboys, Ace Ventura, the Cuban political machine, poorly named boutique hotels with too many white pillows in the lobby, and my grandma Alice. 355 days of the year, I have mixed emotions about Miami, but from Christmas to about January 3rd, the place just goes off. Collins Ave. and the aforementioned boutique hotels serve as the playground for every self-important sceney cheesedick from LA and NY…and I am no exception. I do not apologize …