I am writing to address the previous two posts about Spring Break. In one, the author describes various just-got-home activities. In the other, the author explains that Spring Break is a time for introspection and reflection. In both, the authors fail to recognize that SPRING BREAK FUCKIN’ RULEZ. They obviously aren’t doing it right.
But I am.
As soon as my class ended on Thursday, I drove down to Miami Beach with a couple of my best buds and a few of the countless hot chicks that we know. I packed light: four pairs of Quicksilver board shorts, two of my freshest pairs of Oakleys, two of my sleeveless lax jerseys, one long sleeved lax jersey (in case we go to a nice restaurant or something), and of course my Heineken flip-flops. I mean what else could you possibly need? I’m trying to have the most rawkus, rowdy, rompin’, ridiculous time of my life and I don’t want anything holding me back. I’m not going to be wearing a shirt for most of the time anyway because it’s SPRING BREAK.
It sucked to leave New Brunswick behind that Thursday night, but twenty-six hours and three 30s of Keystone road sodas later, we rolled into Miami Beach feeling like kings. I shit you not, this place is like heaven. Except instead of clouds and angels, there are babes, bikinis, boobs, butts, and beers. EVERYWHERE. And we were getting sexy looks from all of the hottest chicks undoubtedly because of our New Jersey license plate. My bros and I were drooling and our lady friends that we brought along were already in their bikinis, ready to start the party.
One thing that the Spring Break beginner should know is that the best holiday of the year (Spring Break, duh) requires serious arm strength. If you are partying on the beach, your body’s instinctual reaction will be to throw your arms towards the sky, either pointing at a DJ, fist pumping, or some combination of the two. You will have a drink in at least one of your hands, so there will be extra weight. And because you will be partying constantly for anywhere between three and ten days, you will have you arms in the air for many, many hours. So far, I have had my arms in the air for over 100 hours. I am typing this post with my arms in the air, a Corona in my left hand, a Red Bull in my right hand, and four of the most slammin’ chicks I have ever seen circling me. I’ll definitely get laid by the one in the trucker hat, she totally loves my Jersey Fresh tattoo.
So, the moral of the story is this: if you don’t want to have a cliché Spring Break where you go home, roll your eyes at your parents, fall on your bed like you’re in a movie, and cry, you should come join me in Miami Beach where beer flows like the Nile, where house music DJs are gods among men, and where there’s a good chance that you’ll meet three of your future wives.
-IBG