The Key West Chronicles

Part 1

Part 2

Day 1 – 6:00pm

After 30 minutes of relaxation, I jump out of my beach lounge chair in a panic; holy shit, we have been on Spring Break for 30 minutes (actually my life is a Spring Break) and we aren’t statistically drunk?  After I slap AJ and myself for being dumbasses, I ask a still coherent Bonk where the local liquor store is located.  Again he gives excellent directions (this will change dramatically very shortly) and we are at the liquor store in no time.  The only forms of identification I have at this point are expired fake IDs; I do not have any legal picture of myself with an official D.O.B. printed on it.  My license was confiscated several months early by an officer of the law who thought I had had a little too much to drink; allow me to digress for just a moment.

Don’t drink and drive; back to the story.

Due to my poor choices, I was IDless.  Being a scared little bitch, I give AJ the money for the beer whilst I accompanied him into the store.  After taking notice that the only clerk in the store was a true Key Westian (gay), I knew there wouldn’t be a problem.  I flirt shamelessly (homosexually) as the clerk questions me about my Spring Break plans.  I immediately stop emitting the “homo vibe” when I see 2 attractive females enter the store; they are wearing UCF shirts.  JACKPOT!  Through the years, I have learned that meeting a girl from your same school outside of the school’s city is ideal.  You no longer have to start a worthless conversation with a terrible pick up line, instead, you just walk by and shout “UCF Woo!!!!!” and you’re golden.  Clearly, this is what I did.  We flirt with the girls (AJ does have a girlfriend, but he also knows how to help his pal out), but are more interested in the beer than the women at this time (this will soon change).  I lean over to grab the 12 pack of Corona (AJ later told me the clerk was not subtle in checking out my ass) and take it to the counter.  After paying a ridiculous 19 dollars and change, we wave bye to the UCF girls, and I throw the clerk a confusing wink.

Day 1 – 6:15pm

We stroll right back to the beach with 12-pack in hand.

Beach Security Guard  “Hey, you can’t bring that out here!”

I question his validity as a security guard because he is shirtless and wearing a sombrero.

Me  “Why not?”
Shirtless Hombre  “This is a private beach and we have our own liquor license.”

This makes sense.  There is a bar/grill on the beach and I can understand why they don’t want us bringing our own beer; movie theaters might also get a little annoyed if we brought our own popcorn.  We go to the room, slam a quick beer, and head back out to the beach and back over to our buddies.  I notice they have beer and question them.  Turns out the guy doesn’t mind if you bring one from your hotel room, just not a case.  Without hesitation, we run back and grab another each; this time we load them up with a shot of Svedka Limon.  Back at the beach, we drink casually and enjoy getting off our feet for a bit (there is much walking to come, and I really do have an injured foot).  Rizzo, Bonk and Big Bonk return to the room; AJ, Franchize, and I relax for a little while longer.

Day 1 – 7:30pm

We return to the room to find Rizzo resting comfortably on his tile bed (I would call him a pussy, but again let’s go back to the 18-pack on his head earlier; the boy deserves his rest).  And the Bonks, whom are entangled in some card game that makes no sense to me or anyone else, even them.  AJ and I grab another beer and realize we need some food.  Franchize tells us to walk down Duvall Street (this will become habitual); so we grab a beer and head out.  One awesome thing I notice about Key West is that we can walk anywhere with an open container; whether this is legal or not, um… who cares?  So we stroll down Duvall street, catch a couple “bell rings” (hey, at least someone thinks we’re hot, who cares if it’s a dude, it’s nice to know we have options incase the whole ‘straight thing’ doesn’t work out), and run into a Circle K (not even a real one, a BoBo Key West version, but it was called Circle K).

AJ  “Circle K, perfect!”
Me  “Dude are you kidding me, fuck this place.  I wanna throw up because of alcohol poisoning, not food.”
AJ  “Naw dude, let’s just go here, we’ll save money.”
Me  “Did you not hear me?  Wait… money saving?  Good point, let’s do it.”

Realizing we have very insufficient funds, I reluctantly enter the store.  I find a pork sandwich and a cheeseburger (the first of many); AJ grabs some more BoBo ass shit.  After chips and a drink, my bill still comes to over 8 dollars.  Way to go on saving money.

Day 1 – 8:00pm

As we sit in front of the Circle K enjoying the food, a familiar face walks by…

Me  “Yo Bonk!  Where you going?”
Bonk (looking confused and searching for the direction of my voice)  “Oh yo!  Margaritaville!”
Me  “Is everyone else already down there?”
Bonk  “Yeah, I’m meeting up with them.”
Me  “Cool, you got a key me and AJ can get so we can shower up and what not?”
Bonk  “Not on me, but we put one under the mat.”
Me  “True, alright we’ll call you when we’re walkin down there.”
Bonk  “Alright, there’s a good chance I’ll be drunk.”

Bonk walks away; we finish our entrees.  On the way back to the hotel, we stop by Headquarters and grab our bags.  After slammin another Corona and showering up, I take a couple shots alone while AJ showers (his shower took about 20 minutes, he knew he wasn’t suppose to have sex, so I assume he was rubbin one out).  Both dressed and ready to rock, we continue drinking and decide that it is most definitely Skittle time.

Day 1 – 9:30pm

Still in the room admiring the Skittles, Franchize stumbles in the door.

Me  “I thought we were meeting you down Duvall?”
Franchize  “How did you get in?”
Me  “With the ‘secret key’.”
Franchize  “Oh yeah, naw, we are coming back to change and drink some more.”
Me  “Sounds good.”

No less than 30 seconds later, Rizzo barges through the door.

Rizzo (noticing the Skittles) “What you guys up to?”
AJ  “Key West Cocaine (the Skittles were pink).”
Rizzo  “Dibs.”

Rizzo dives in for a whiff of the candy.  Afterwards, we grab all essentials: wallet, ID(s), keys, etc. and head out the door.  On the way out, AJ eats another half of a Skittle; I grab my bag to throw it back in Headquarters (this will prove to be a fatal mistake).  We leave the hotel in route to meet the Bonks; all I carry with me as we walk down Duvall Street is 3 IDs (none of which are mine), a bottle opener around my neck, and $60 cash that I obtained from a nearby ATM controlled by Key Westians (gays).  I winked; they delivered.  The time has come: the bar scene.

Day 1 – 10:00pm

We waltz down Duvall Street (although the hotel at which we reside is located on Duvall Street, it is literally at the opposite end), with one goal in mind: drink til we can drink no more.  During the walk, which seems like a million miles, we encounter many scenarios.  First off, in order to get to the straight bars, we must muscle through the gay/bi-curious (gay) ones.  You would never expect a task that seems this simple to be so very difficult.  I notice a drag bar on the opposite side of the street and sigh in relieve.

Me  “Thank God we are on this side of the road.”
Rizzo  “Yeah you say that now.”
Me (perplexed) “What the fuck does that mean?”
Rizzo  “You’ll see.”

Not feeling too confident, we continue the trek.  I immediately understand Rizzo’s tone as we pass several gay bars filled with locals who aren’t exactly what you’d call “in the closet.”

Random Gay Dude  “Come on in, don’t be scared!”
Me  “Well I definitely am (scared, that is).”

We turn our walking pace into a slow jog; thank God for the Skittles, otherwise I’d be in agony due to this never ending walk.  We finally reach the straight bars, loaded with booze, drunk college kids, and potential (drunk college chicks).  As we get ready to swoop into our first bar, I catch a “bell ring” which is very uncalled for and uninvited at this particular time.

Me  “I have no problem going to jail for a hate crime tonight.”

The Ringer rides off immediately.  Finally we have reached heaven on earth: the straight bar strip in Key West.  All four of us exhale giant sighs of relieve, for we have just cleared a mine field.  We approach our first bar: Fat Tuesdays.  I notice both doormen scanning IDs with not only their eyes, but also mini black lights.

Rizzo  “Dude let’s check out this place.”
Me  “Bro, not to sound like a pussy, but I don’t want all of my IDs taken away just yet.”
Rizzo  “Pussy.”
Me  “Seriously, go in, grab a drink, and let’s find an establishment that’ll be more hospitable?”
Rizzo  “Pussy… ok though, I’m gonna grab you a drink from in here too.”
Me  “Obviously.”

Rizzo stumbles in with the rest of the crew, minus AJ; we wait out front.  I have many questions for the very scrutinous bouncer.

Me (the line has died down) “Off the record, can I show you something?”
Bouncer (who looks like Mr. Clean meets Local Crack Head) “Sure, I don’t see why not?”
Me (pulling out my stack of IDs) “What do you think?”
Bouncer (scanning through very quickly) “No… definitely not… no way…”
Me  “Damn man, well which bar is my best shot of getting in?”
Bouncer  (after pulling out a stack of confiscated IDs) “Seriously bro, you look old enough, drink your beers in the street (he will later prove to be very incorrect).”
Me  “Is that legal?”
Bouncer  “Sure, everyone can drink in the streets, and you have the least chance of trouble.”
AJ (barging in) “Well you don’t happen to have an ID for my buddy in that stack that will work at one of the other bars, do you?”
Bouncer  “Not likely, and I’m also an off duty cop, so you don’t want to ask me that.”
Me  “Thank you for your time.”

We slowly back away, both glad we are still drunk and non-incarcerated, as oppose to being someone’s bitch.  Just as we get done with the fake ID seminar, Rizzo falls out of the bar with drink in hand.

Ben  “Here ya go bro, try this shit!”
Me  “What is it?”
Ben  “I think they call it an ‘octane 190’?”
Me  “What’s that?”
Ben  “Dude just drink it!”
Me (as I pull the upside down test-tube out of it) “Let’s do the damn thing!”

I admire the complexity of the drink; we continue on our path to righteousness.  Finally it is visible, Irish Kevin’s is the name.

Day 1 – 11:30pm (estimate)

I wait anxiously in line with a feeling of insecurity (the Skittles might be to blame). I have been a drinker since middle school, so why now all of a sudden do I doubt myself?  A combination of many things, but in the pit of my stomach I carry with me that feeling of that first time buying beer: nervousness and excitement all balled together.  Allow me to digress for just a moment.

Wow, my first time buying beer?  There’s a foreign concept.  It’s been so long that it’s hard for me to believe that there was ever a time when buying alcohol was a conquest and not a necessity.  When I was 14, I bought beer from an Albertson’s liquor store using a fake ID; I got very lucky in this process.  First off, let me describe to you this “fake ID.”  I had downloaded a couple templates for different state IDs; the one I used was from Connecticut.  Then, using PhotoShop, I could attach a picture of myself, print out the ID, and then go to Kinkos and laminate it.  Back in the day, I used to sell these things to friends and they would work all the time.  In hindsight, these IDs were as authentic as a note card with a smiley face drawn on it.  My age on the ID was 23, because everyone knows that saying you’re 21 on a fake ID is something that “all idiots do” (watch Superbad, I think they actually talk about this in that movie).  My name was Robert Eugene [I can’t remember the last name].  I did this so that when my idiot friends would run in screaming my real name, I could tell the clerk that I “go by my initials.”  I actually had to do this on several occasions; I’m a genius, I know.  Generally, when you are underage and have shitty false identification, you can only get away with purchasing beer from questionable Middle Eastern merchants; lucky for me, the Albertson’s employees absolutely loved me.  So, as a young kid with barely any facial hair, not only could I get beer, but I could also show up to a party with a bottle of rum in my hand and look like a champion.  Oh, my favorite clerks name also happened to be Robert, so we had something in common; back to the story.

As I approach the bouncer, I quickly fiddle through my stack and decide which ID to use.  I go with AJ’s (AJ happen to have 2 IDs on him, so he gave me his expired one), and ask him to not stand directly in front or behind me.  He finds this laughable and stands directly behind me.  In goes Rizzo as I step up to the plate.  I hand the bouncer my ID and make false conversation with AJ.  Presto, he glances at the ID, and then hands it back to me as he quizzes my face.  I see his brows begin to change form, but before he gets the chance to second-guess his poor decision, I snatch the ID and head on in.  With a sigh of relieve, I feel like kicking myself in the balls for acting like such pussy.  I don’t wait for AJ, because things could get weird if the highly educated doorman puts 2 and 2 together.  AJ catches up moments later, we are all now in the bar, it’s time to get sloppy.  As we walk through the bar, we run into our first group of locals.  Johnny Boy (who makes a cameo in The Memphis Chronicles), Monnin, Chewy, Nick, Hairless Yancy (quite possibly the best Ricky Carmichael impersonator known to man), Nikki, and Rachel have already been at Irish Kevin’s gettin’ down.  I greet all of the fellow Orlandonians with high fives and hugs.  Somebody hands me a shot; I take it.  I temporarily leave the group and follow Rizzo and Franchize, whom are in search of the Bonks.

Not to hard to spot, we immediately approach the twins (who are 4 years apart in age).  Bonk, no longer able to give perfect directions, does his best efforts to finger point me to the correct bar (there are several bars, so usually each group finds their bartender for the evening).  As I approach the bar, AJ, Johnny Boy and the crew has migrated over to our new location; this will be where our night begins and ends.  I notion to AJ that I’m heading over to the bar, he follows.  At the bar, I catch a glimpse of about 5 to 7 girls, all attractive, all drinking, yet no males in sight.  I guess it’s possible these are the Jersey lesbians, but we will soon find out that this suspicion is incorrect.  I go to the far right of all the girls, only to nudge the girl on the end as I muscle my way to the bar (they are posted up at the bar, this to me prints “I Came To Party” on all of their heads).  Oddly enough, bumping into a girl and saying “I’m sorry, I was just trying to make it to the bar” is one of the best ways to initiate conversation.  It doesn’t matter whether the bump is intentional or not.

Me  “Oh I’m sorry sweetie, I was just trying to get to the bar.”
I Came To Party #1 (with a smile) “Oh that’s fine, I’ll slide over.”
Me  “Thank you dear, you’re awesome!”

Noticing that she stares at me a little too long, it’s clear I won’t be leaving this position for quite some time.  I grab AJ and tell the bartender to fire up a round of Goldschlager.  Still keeping an eye on I Came To Party #1, I also notice that her nearest group member has taken an interest in me and my amigo, and the shots we have ordered.  Wasting no time…

Me  “How bout ya’ll, you want a shot too?”
I Came To Party #1 (looks at her agreeing friend) “Sure!”
Me (to bartender) “2 more please!”

At this point, I’m still a millionaire.  Once I’m told of the $22 dollar tab for the first round, and realize my evening’s cash supply has been chopped down by 33%, I return to reality.  We slam the shots, and the game is on.  I Came To Party #1 has turned her bar stool to face me; God I love Spring Break.  She is probably the 2^nd hottest out of the group of girls; the 1^st is at the opposite end of the pack, and let’s be honest, I’m a lazy fuck who is not about to walk that far (4 feet).  Everyone else in the bar becomes a blur as I concentrate on I Came To Party #1.  Conversation begins…

Me (noticing an accent) “Where are you girls from, I’m assuming you’re with the rest of these girls?”
I Came To Party #1 (agreeing) “We’re from East Carolina.”

For the remainder of the trip, I think she is from UNC.  Hey, it’s Spring Break, I’m feeling loopy, having a good time, leave me the fuck alone.

Me  “Wow that’s cool, that seems like a hell of a drive?”
I Came To Party #1  “Actually it was [I stopped listening] hours.”
Me  “No way, it only took us 8, I guess we got off easy!”

She smiles, and we continue to chat away for the next 30 minutes or so.  I faintly recall somewhere in our dialogue a discussion of how to avoid a shark attack; hey it’s the Keys, I guess that kinda shit works?  I’ve been drinking a beer handed to me by one of the Bonks (hopefully not roofied up), and realize it’s almost empty.

Me  “You want another drink?”
I Came To Party #1  “Sure.”
Me (realizing beer is cheaper and takes longer to drink) “What kinda beer you like?”
I Came To Party #1 (said with cute Carolinian accent) “Whatever gets the job done.”

Dibs.  Rarely in my life do I refer to a girl as being “cool”, but throughout this trip’s duration, believe it or not, I actually met girls whom I enjoyed talking to.  Most likely it was because I was high as a kite this entire trip.

Me  “I’m gonna buy you this drink, but you have to do one thing for me.”
I Came To Party #1 (as she wets her lips) “Oh yeah, I think I can handle that?”
Me (loving to fuck with horny girls) “Tell me your name.”
I Came To Party #1 (laughs) “Wow, that’s easy, Sarah.”

Kissing a girl this early in the night?  Rookie mistake.  The bars are open until 4am, I don’t need to accidentally attract a Looney Toon just yet.  We continue to chat and drink.

Now at this point during our meeting, I decide to bring up age.  I don’t know why I always do this; perhaps it’s just to keep conversation alive, I really don’t know.  It is always a bad idea.  Leave age unspoken of unless she brings it up.

Me  “Yeah, I’m glad I got in.”
Sarah  “What do you mean?”
Me (I look old but don’t lie, mainly because I’m really bad at it) “20.”
Sarah  “Are you serious?”
Me (sensing a displeased tone) “Yeah, how old are you?”
Sarah  “24.”

I quickly offer her another shot in hopes of abandoning this conversation.  It works; she accepts and all is forgotten.

(On a side note, Johnny boy and some buddies are talking to Sarah and the rest of her friends.  Once the ice is broken, we swarm the pack.  Somehow sports come into play.  There is a football player for East Carolina that Johnny boy knows from high school.  I’m not sure how this all pieced together (I was fucked up), but it turns out this football player took the virginity of Sarah’s roommate.  It’s a small fuckin world, I know).

Bonk stumbles over.

Bonk (barely comprehensible) “You want a shot?”
Me (not sure if he was talking to me or Sarah) “Sure!”

Bonk has bought 5 shots, apparently he too is a millionaire.  I try to snag 2, one for each of us, but the other 4 are already promised to certain people.  I take the one, and being the gentleman that I am (trying to get the girl more drunk), offer it to Sarah.

Sarah  “Let’s split it.”

Dibs.

Me  “Naw, it’s cool, I don’t mind.”
Sarah (being awesome) “I’m gonna get another shot glass.”

She grabs the bartender’s attention and he quickly serves up another shot glass.  As I try to pour the shot unevenly (me a lot, her nothing… my mindset goes from ‘get this girl drunk’ to ‘get myself drunk’ real fast), she notices and says…

Sarah  “Here, I got it.”

A woman who takes charge; I think I popped wood.  She pours the shots evenly, grabs a lime, and then we salt up each other’s hands (why we didn’t do the tradition neck, I’ll blame on the Skittles).

Me  “This is gonna be tough.”
Sarah (with her the ‘glass half full’ attitude, which it was) “We got this.”

We lick each other’s hands, take the shots, and somehow it works out brilliantly.  We continue to flirt on, shamelessly.  We also talk about the beach we both are going to tomorrow (Smathers beach is where all the Spring Breakers go apparently).  I pronounce it incorrectly several times as she corrects me.  The first couple times were not on purpose, the last couple mispronunciations were just to be cute; she loved it.  All of a sudden, very bad news.  A friend whispers into Sarah’s ear.  If life has taught me anything, it’s that nothing good can come from a whispering friend.

Sarah  “Hey, my friends wanna go bar hopping, I have to leave!”
Me (half disappointed, half drunk) “Well that sucks.”
Sarah  “But hey, take my number, I really wanna see you again!”

I take the number, but not proudly.  Why guys think they’re making progress from getting a fucking phone number, I’ll never understand.  This means nothing.  I have never met a girl who would not give me her phone number (this is not me bragging, this is me explaining how a phone number and a vagina are two different things).  I feel like I have wasted $10 and an hour or so of my life.

Sarah (after putting her number in my phone) “Call me!”
Me (disappointed but still polite (must be the Skittles)) “Ok, I’ll call you tomorrow when we get to the beach, we’ll meet up.”
Sarah  “No, call me tonight.”

Wow, I have never heard something that could turn a frown upside down so fast.  Sluts = cool.

Me (blabbering like a horny idiot) “Um ok, yeah sure, I’ll call you when we leave this bar.”
Sarah  “Sounds good, have fun babe!”

I’m flabbergasted and erotically stunned as she walks out the door.  Is there really such thing as “this easy?”  If so, dibs.  I leave my bar stool and meander over to my friends, who are sloppier than I am and speaking sputnik (a made up language that is similar to Russian).

Franchize  “Did you take care of that or what?”
Me  “I think so, I’ll let you know.”
Bonk  “Dude youuuuuuu vewwv overas tfor evearrsr (you were over there forever).”
Me  “Long story, let’s get FUCKED UP!”

We have pulled 2 round tables together (always an interesting set up), and have about 10 pals and 3 or 4 gals all drinking together.  I catch a glimpse of AJ and give him one of those “where those Skittles at” head nods.  He comes over and gives me a high five (I now possess the Skittles).  The power of a thousand suns in my hand; I love it.  I head to the bathroom to take a look at the goods.  I find myself stuck in a line.  Don’t you just hate when some idiot always makes that same lame joke when waiting in line for the men’s room?

Me  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was trying to go to the women’s restroom.”

Several other drunk dudes give me an agreeing laugh.  I finally make it into the handicap stall.  I look at the pack of Skittles and eat the other half AJ had left from earlier.  I falsely flush the toilet, walk out of the stall, and head to the sink.  There is a nice African American fellow who turns the sink on for me.

Me  “Aw man, don’t do that for me, I love you (true) but I have no cash (lie).”
Restroom Attendant  “No worries young brotha, you have yourself a good night!”
Me  “I’ll get you on the next time my man (lie)!”

I depart the restroom with a feeling of guilt; this feeling is quickly suppressed.  I head back to our table, return the high five to AJ, and sit down and enjoy a pint of Guinness (whose it is and where it came from, we will never know).  All of sudden, everyone at my table, including myself, looks toward the stage.

MC Dude (spoken with a dumb, stereotypical MC voice) “Ok, It’s time to vote for your favorite!”

On stage I see maybe 6 or 7 very attractive females.  I stare intently at a blond, who is my personal favorite, and lose myself in the degrading, yet amiable competition.  The MC Dude announces the name of each girl and the school she is from.  The blond, whom I have been ‘oogle-ing’, has received the highest level of applause.  Once I learn she is from UF, she immediately becomes ugly.  My friends and I notice we have heard every school possible except UCF.  We become very disgruntled, because we have the most beautiful (pornstar hot) women at our school.  This contest cannot go on.

Me and 10 drunk friends  “UCF UCF UCF UCF UCF UCF UCF!”

The MC Dude hears our chant and announces, “Any UCF girls in the house?”  Almost instantaneously we hear a roar from a group of chicks in the back, clearly UCF girls.  AJ, Johnny Boy and I waste no time rushing over there and grabbing the first girl we see.  As we chuck her on stage she shouts…

Hot UCF Chick  “I go to Valencia!”
Me  “Even better!”

Once we see the girl on stage, it is immediately apparent that she blows the Blondie from UF out of the water.  She obviously dominated the competition and walked off stage victorious.  Sorry UF, you might be good at sports, but we are good at having hot women.  As she walks off stage, she high fives all my buddies and I; we exchange hugs and several drinks, and then she goes back to her corner.  Reaching into my pocket, I discover I only have 5 dollars left.  Where it all went, I don’t know for sure (perhaps down the hatch, or wasted on Sarah from UNC).  I immediately spend it on a pint of I don’t know what.  We all drink through the night.  Several minutes later, Johnny Boy notices my glass is empty during a reoccurring “cheers”; he is happy to replenish it.  We continue to drink into the night; life is good.

Day 2 – 2:30am (no longer an estimate, a complete guess)

At some point between Irish Kevin’s and the middle of the street, I had changed bars.  AJ called me to tell me he had ran into Mere (from The San Fran Chronicles, she will be a reoccurring character during this Spring Break adventure).  After exchanging several retarded/incoherent phone calls with Mere, I find her.

Me  “Where the fuck are you?”
Mere  “Outside of Ricks, next to this pizza place.”
Me  “I’m looking at the fuckin pizza place, where are you?”
Mere  “I am too, I don’t fuckin see you!”

I hear a girl yelling loudly in the background.  I turn around to see what all the commotion is about.  It’s Mere, yelling into her phone, at me.

Me  “Hey dumbass, over here!”
Mere (baffled) “Heyyyyy, what the fuck?”
Me (realizing she is not too sober) “What are you doing?”
Mere  “Let’s talk tomorrow, I have to go!”
Me  “Wait, what?”

I see a cab pull up, and a white Steve Urkle trying to get her into it.  Now let’s set things straight, there are very few people in this world that I care about (yeah, I’m an asshole), but somehow this haggard mess of girl has fallen into that category.  I don’t care who she fucks, as long as she kinda knows what she’s doing.

Me (spoken loudly enough so Urkle hears) “Hey Mere, who’s this kid?”
Mere  “Oh he’s just my friend.”

“He’s just my friend,” heartbreaking words to a man.  If you caught a glimpse of this gummy bear, you would totally agree.  I help her into the cab, and then I have a few words with the gummy bear.  He shakes my hand and introduces himself (I hate kids that kiss my ass in hopes of fucking my friends, especially when I’m drunk).  I pull him aside as Mere waits in the cab.

Me  “If something bad happens to that girl, I’ll find you and your family, understand?”

The kid turns white, but gives an agreeing nod.  He hops in the cab and they drive off.  Now let’s be honest here, I’m not an intimidating person, much less an aggressive one.  As a matter of fact I despise kids whose first solution to anything is to “punch something.”  But I am tan and do have facial hair; thus skinny white kids fear me.  Anyways, where were we?  Ah yes, so during AJ’s phone call, he also tells me that he has got in a cab with some of Johnny Boy’s crew and plans to crash at their place.  It’s about time I wonder the streets to find familiar faces.

Day 2 – 4:00am (total guess)

I come across Franchize, who had happened to stumble into his ex-girlfriend on the streets (never converse with an ex-girlfriends, drunk, on Spring Break).  I pull him away, and as a duo, we stagger down Duvall Street.  We are both starving and decide to stumble into another local pizza dive (there are many).  I have no cash.

Me  “Franchize, you got this?”
Franchize (drunk and confused) “Got what?”
Me (very content with this response) “True.”

We each order a slice, and Franchize pays as we get served (and by get served I mean sit on the street corner after a piece of pizza is placed in my hand).  We both notice there is a 3^rd piece of pizza.

Franchize  “Um we only wanted 2?”
Educated Pizza Vendor  “Yeah, but I already charged you for 3.”
Franchize  “Um ok, wait what did you say?”
Educated Pizza Vendor  “I already charged you for 3.”
Franchize  “But I only asked for 2!”
Educated Pizza Vendor  “Don’t worry, I gave you 3.”
Franchize  “Dude, start makin sense!”

Ok, I know what you’re thinking, 2 drunk kids, this is our fault, right?  Not right.  It turns out that the Educated Pizza Vendor, not so educated.  I know what you’re thinking, “you Skittle poppin drunk fuck, there is no way you remember what went down!”  Let me tell you, as a Skittle alumnist, there are 2 things they do.  1, they make you a little more loopy than normal, but allow you to maintain coherency.  And 2, they give you hard-ons that would make Viagra addicts look soft.  So after Franchize had already paid, we ate the shitty pizza.  Fuck it, we were drunk (I’m betting it tasted like filet mignon with a lemon butter).  We leave the pizza place.

Day 2 – 4:30am (total guess)

Me  “Dude, it’s this way.”
Franchize  “Bro, I promise it’s this way.”

Discussing the hotel direction, I follow Franchize’s lead (hey, he had already been there for a night).  Thank God we did not listen to me (I = Dumbass).

Day 2 – 5:00am (total guess)

After a vigorous walk, we arrive at the hotel.  We use the “secret key” to gain access to the room.  A plethora of lifeless bodies cover the floor.

Franchize  “Dude, let’s just sleep outside, there are plenty of lawn chairs.”

After stepping over a Rizzo, and nearly colliding into a couple of ‘look close to being dead’ Bonks, I agree with Franchize.  I know to most this idea sounds crazy, but envision a comfy lawn chair versus a not so forgiving tile floor.  I agreed immediately.

Me  “Good call, let’s do it sir.”

We stumble back out the front door; this is where our plan goes to hell in a hand basket.  I will try and give you a visual.  If you’re looking towards the ocean, to the right, is a beach with plenty of chairs and an accessing gate from our hotel (my plan).  If you’re looking towards the ocean, and continue to walk straight ahead, there’s a sun deck, with an accessing gate and several chairs (Franchize’s plan).  Because of how retarded we both were (are), we did not notice that we took separate paths; Franchize towards the sun deck, and myself towards the beach.  I remember having a conversation with Franchize during the duration of the walk from the room to the beach, but apparently I spoke with only myself.  Perhaps I was also speaking with God, because once I planted myself in the chosen lawn chair, it was heavenly.

Day 2 – 5:30am (total guess)

15 minutes into my heavenly slumber, I’m rudely awakened.  It is the shirt-less, now sombrero-less, “security guard” from earlier.

RoboCop  “You can’t sleep here.”
Me  “Why not?”
RoboCop  “This is a private beach.”
Me (pointing to the hotel) “I’m staying in room 110 over there.”
RoboCop  “Then go there, or I’ll have to call the police.”
Me  “Ok.”

I jump out of the chair and rush over to the room.  I get there and knock quietly; I don’t want to wake the other people in the hotel (either I’m being nice because I’m fucked up, or I’m in fear of neighbors calling the police, I don’t know).  After none of the passed out residents arise, I pull the screen off the window and try to slide it open.  It too is locked.  I soon realize I am dumb, for I have yet to check for the “secret key.”  I do, and of course it’s missing; I find out later that Franchize, returning from the sun deck shortly after getting there, had brought it inside with him by mistake after he used it.  I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt that this was “by mistake” and that he’s not just a complete dick.  I see a chair between the neighboring room and the Bonk’s villa; I sit it in.  Apparently I find this the most convenient time to call everyone I know, including my new friend Sarah.  When I get no answers, I don’t worry too much because it is 5:30 in the am; I am dumb.  Soon after, I drift off to never never land.

Day 2 – 6:00am (total guess)

Again awaking suddenly, from a dream in which I was the central character in “The Sandlot”, I see my sombrero-less friend.  For some reason, I’m still being nice (I must be sobering up).

RoboCop  “Kid, get in a room or get out.”
Me (kissing major RoboCop ass) “Sir, this is my room, no one will wake up.”
RoboCop  “I’m sorry kid, you’re gonna have to leave.”
Me  “Sir, this is my room, I already checked to see if the window was open.”

I notion towards the missing screen; this seems to anger RoboCop.

RoboCop  “That’s it, I’m calling the police.”
Me  “Sir, please don’t, this is my room, I swear.”

He asks for my name so he can verify this claim.  Seeing no electronic equipment in sight, I give him my name (that’s right, I’m calling his bluff).  Finally RoboCop turns into a soft ass.

Soft Ass  “Ok, you seem like a nice kid, go sleep on the pier (the end of the sun deck).”
Me  “No problem sir, thank you so much.”

Soft Ass and I part ways; he sends me to sleep where Franchize was originally located.  I find an amazing lawn chair and let my body drop onto it.  Finally, lights out on a long eventful night.  I soon awake, not alone.

CONTINUE ON TO PART 3