The Key West Chronicles

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Day 2 – 6:30pm

Just as I start to get cozy, I hear my name being summoned in the distance.  It’s Franchize.  Him, along with Rizzo and the Bonks, have just returned from the beach (we briefly ran into them as we were packing up our stuff).  Franchize shouts my name as he spots me on his walk to their room.  I use all my strength to throw my arm into the air, signifying I’m still conscious.  They all pile into the room, and again I try to “nap it out”.

Day 2 – 7:00pm

After getting a nice, long rest (30 minutes), I crawl out of the chair and hobble back to the hotel room.  Again it’s locked, and the “not so secret key” is nowhere to be found.  I call Franchize, very confused.

Me  “Dude, where are you?  I watched you walk into the room like 5 minutes ago?”
Franchize  “We are at the hotel restaurant.”
Me  “Ah fuck me!”

The restaurant was only 10 feet away from my original power nap location.  I turn around and stumble back to the beach.  I find the crew sitting outside the café ordering dinner.  Although I’m not yet famished, I am quite parched (apparently drinking alcohol in the sun all day isn’t the recommended method of self hydration).  I ask the waitress for a glass of water; she tells me there is a cooler “over there” (points) and that cups are next to it.  I’m trying very hard to stay off my foot as much as possible, but it’s just not in the cards.  I get up and head to the cooler.  Upon arrival, I decide it would be a good idea to kick the waitress in the head.  Looking at the size of the “cups”, I feel that they should be holding jello shots, not water.  I rip about 7 or 8 shots of water out of one of the 2 oz plastic liquid retaining mechanisms (because that’s what it was, this was no fucking cup), and then I fill 1 up for the hike back to the table (it’s done before I take 2 steps).  I return to the table, disgruntled.  Rizzo cheers me up by offering me a cheese stick; I accept.  The group looks even more haggard than I do as we discuss plans for this evening.  Franchize questions why AJ and I were sitting so far apart, I tell him because AJ is dumb.  Right about this time, AJ calls me.

AJ  “Where you at?”
Me  “10 feet to your left.”

AJ stumbles over to the table, appearing to still be in a half-comatose state.  The 6 of us sit around and shoot the shit for another 15 minutes or so.

AJ (to me) “You hungry?”
Me  “Yeah, I could eat.”
AJ  “Circle K?”
Me  “God I hate you, let’s do it.”

We get up, part ways with our amigos, and start walking down Duval Street towards our beloved Circle K.

Day 2 – 8:00pm

Heading down Duval Street towards our Mecca (Circle K), we avoiding eye contact with any and every uninvited “bell ringer” that chimes in our direction.  Before we cross the street en route towards our nutritious dinner, we see two recognizable figures walking our way.  It’s our friends, Audrey and Tracey, whom are fellow UCFers.

Me  “Hey ooooooooooo, what’s up?”
Audrey  “Nothing, what are you guys doing?”
AJ  “Going to get dinner (points to Circle K).”
Tracey  “True, so what are you guys doing tonight?”
Me  “Heading down Duval and getting shit tanked, you?”
Audrey  “Obviously the same.”
Me  “Alright, well we’ll hit you up in a little bit when we’re done eating.”
Tracey  “Sounds good.”
Me  “Peace.”

We cross the street and approach the Circle K.  I trip on my way inside on a step that is nearly camouflage (I didn’t look down), and I will assuredly trip again on the way out (as I had done the previous night).  I head in and make a beeline for my targets (cheeseburger, pork sandwich, bag of chips, and bottle of water).  AJ, being the adventurous cat that he is, tries something new (I believe it was a chicken sandwich, fatal mistake).  After spending another $8 (funds are limited), I trip (true) on my way outside to meet AJ, who is sitting on the stairs, already done with half of his chicken sandwich.

AJ  “This is fuckin terrible.”
Me  “Go figure… Chip?”
AJ  “Sure.”

As we sit on the steps, mauling through our questionable meals, AJ recognizes someone as he peddles up to us.

AJ  “Yo dude, what’s up?”
AJ Amigo (I can’t remember his name) “Hey man, what’s going on?”
AJ  “Just chillin.  Eatin some dinner before we get sauced up tonight, you?”
AJ Amigo  “About to grab some dinner (he was at Circle K; he’s one of us).”
AJ  “True, where’d you get that bike?”
Me  “God I’d kill for a bike.”
AJ Amigo  “About 2 blocks that way (stole it).”

After learning that he grifted the bike, I immediately like this kid.  The AJ Amigo is also friends with Krets (Jagered-up Fabio).  He runs inside to score some cuisine, and then heads back out.

AJ  “Alright dude, I’m sure we’ll run into you tonight.”
AJ Amigo  “Most definitely.”
AJ  “Peace.”

We finish our food moments after the AJ Amigo rides off, and then begin our walk back to headquarters (to grab our bags), and finally to the room (to grab a shower).  As we begin our walk back towards headquarters, a very unsavory, suspicious looking vehicle pulls up next to us.  I forget the exact model, but it’s an old school sedan (you know, those cars that are like boats on land, also very boxy).  The passenger window begins to roll down.  Instantly assuming it’s a drive by, I throw AJ into the line of fire and hide behind him.  The occupants reveal themselves to be our friends, Audrey and Tracey.

Audrey (sitting passenger) “What’s up!”
Me  “Jesus Christ, you guys are scary in that fuckin car!”
Audrey  “It’s my dads.”
AJ  “What you guys doin?”
Audrey  “About to head over to [another name I can’t remember]’s place.”
AJ  “Oh true.”

The hotel they are heading towards is called The Inn at Key West.  Ironically, this is also the hotel where Johnny Boy and his pals are staying.  They are going to visit a friend who is also mutual friends with AJ (I had met the kid at the beach earlier, I just had forgotten about that).

Tracey  “You guys wanna come?”

AJ and I stare retardedly at each other, and with no verbal communication what so ever, agree that this would be a wise plan (Johnny Boy had previously told us at the beach, that the crew slams massive amounts of Jagerbombs before they head out.  Turning down free Jagerbombs is not something I’m prepared to do, ever, but especially while on Spring Break).

Side note: This took place before the whole “My New Haircut” YouTube epidemic, so don’t hold that against me.  I don’t drink Jager as much as I used to, but from the age of 20-22, I had a Jager machine in my house.  On another Side note:  Nothing good comes from having Jager on tap in your living room.

We hop in the car and kindly request a brief stop at headquarters before we head out to The Inn.  Tracey and Audrey comply and we arrive at headquarters (still the car).  After we grab our bags, using proximity as leverage, we again request another stop.  They kindly take us to Franchize, Rizzo, and the Bonks room, where we had previously placed our cell phones to be charged.  We slam on the door, and simultaneously run in as Franchize opens it.  Noticing that everyone is trying to get their “beauty sleep”, we make little conversation, grab our phones, and head back out to the boat (car).  Once we dive back in the car, Tracey “attempts” to exit the hotel complex.  So I’m sure you’ve noticed the word “attempts” in quotation marks; allow me to digress for just a moment.

Remember the original Austin Powers?  The part where he is driving the golf cart and tries to do a 3-point turn in the too narrow hallway?  Ok, well now imagine that instead of a British secret agent with bad teeth, it’s a girl.  This turnabout quickly becomes a 7-point turn, as we see Audrey outside the car, ushering Tracey around as if she is an airport traffic controller.  After nearly demolishing a hotel sign, and almost 86ing a hotel occupant, we are finally facing the right direction.  Back to the story.

We pull out of the hotel parking lot, bust a right, and continue our adventure towards The Inn.  After about 20 seconds of travel time, I realize that I too am dumb.  I have left my shoes at headquarters.  These feet protectors are imperative if I wish to remain mobile for the rest of the night.  I ask the female Andretti to “bust a U-ey”; she reluctantly agrees.  I hop out, grab the shoes, and finally we are off.  Needless to say, considering how things have been going so far during this trip, the whereabouts of our destination is unknown.  AJ, unwilling to call and ask Johnny Boy for directions because men just don’t do that, tries to retrace the taxi ride he had taken the previous night (let’s keep in mind that this taxi ride was at about 3am, meaning he probably wasn’t as sober as he could’ve been).  He claims that it is “next to a Publix.”  So after we obliviously drive passed said Publix, we pull another “U-ey”.  Amazingly enough, we find the hotel, which is located about 100 yards away from Publix.  AJ gives me a “what now asshole” look, I drop my head in shame.  AJ 1, me 0.  As we illegally park at the neighboring IHOP, I grab my bag and shoes as we all pile out of the car.  AJ and the girls go to their other friend’s place; I ask them to point me in the direction of Johnny Boy’s room.  I klutz my way down the outside hallway until I’m face to face with their door, room 144.

Day 2 – 9:00pm

I bang on the door, with my bag over my shoulder and a pair of shoes in my hand.  To whomever was looking through the peep hole, I must have resembled something of a lost boy scout.  Nikki opens the door and I fall inside.  To really understand the brilliance of this room, I’m going to try my best to give you some strong imagery.

As I enter, to my left is a table filled with alcohol and several empty Capri Suns.  Straight ahead, about 10 yards, I see two wooden doors that open awkwardly into the bathroom.  After passing the table, a big screen TV to the left is seen against the wall.  Located against the wall on the right side of the room are two queen size beds with a nightstand (presumably accompanied by a bible) separating them.  This hotel room is very nice.  You may be asking yourself, “ok, a nice room, what’s so ‘brilliant’ about that?”  And the answer, this one room is home to 7 Spring Breakers.  2 occupants sit atop each bed, and then there are dead bodies to the left, in between, and to the right of the beds.  Now, imagine the amount of gear 7 Spring Breakers would bring with them for a 4-day fiasco (2 of the Spring Breakers are girls mind you).  The room is, to say the least, a bit “cluttered”.  The occupants of this room will be referred to as “The Joads” on and off for the rest of this trip.  If you don’t know whom the Joad family is, then there is a good chance you failed out of High School and are dumb.  Case in point, there are a lot of people living together; let’s move on.  Conversation begins…

Me  “Well good evening Joad family, don’t we all look cozy?”

We all share a laugh.

Me (putting everyone’s mind to ease) “I’m not planning on sleeping here, but I’d really love to use the shower, is this a possibility?”
Monnin (atop the bed nearest to the door) “Go for it man!”
Me  “Oh nice, good deal.”
Nikki  “You might want to wait a minute, [Hairless Yancy] just got done using the bathroom.”
Hairless Yancy  “Yeah, it smells.”
Me  “That’s alright, I’ll muscle through the pain.”

And I did.  I find a small space of visible floor and throw down my bag.  I strip down and hop in the shower (it had one of those curtain rods that curves out to give you more space, a little too high class for someone who resides at the pier).  As I sing my rendition of “What If God Was One Of Us”, I notice the shower is loaded with many different shampoos and conditioners; I try them all.  Why?  I have absolutely no idea.  I hop out, dry off, and throw on this evening’s costume; jeans and a tee shirt (I’m a simple person).  I obnoxiously open both doors simultaneously on my way back into the Joads’ bedroom.  I walk back over towards the front door, where I had left my shoes, and put them on.  I notice all eyes are glued on the TV.  I can’t remember what everyone was watching, I think it was “When Crocodiles Attack” or something to that effect (you know those shows that you never really mean to watch, and then 30 minutes later you’re begging for another episode to be coming up next; it was one of those).  After getting sucked in for several minutes, I snap myself out of the trance.  I thank the Joads for their hospitality and remind them that I will be returning shortly.  I walk out with my bag, and snoop around the hotel for AJ.  After several minutes of fruitless roaming, I become aware that this would be a good time to walk to Publix and see if the ATM will allow me to make my first overdraft.

On the way, I pass by several very suspicious looking characters; they remind me of myself.  Not because they were on Spring Break, but because I felt that they too had recently spent a night or two on a pier.  Sometime during my short trek, I get a phone call from UNC Sarah.  She and her friends are already down Duval Street drinking at this place called Ricks.  It was $10 all you can drink until 11.  After recognizing the fact that she’s probably a raging alcoholic (easy), I tell her that we’ll give them a shout once we get down there and find a place to meet up.  After having little success with the ATM (it let me take out $20, that’s better than nothing), I head back over to the hotel.  I give AJ a call to see where his other buddy’s room is located; on the other end I hear a female’s voice.  It’s Nikki.

Nikki  “Hello?”
Me  “AJ?”
Nikki  “No idiot, it’s Nikki.  AJ left his phone in our room to charge it.”
Me  “Oh alright, well I dunno where he is, I’ll be back over in a minute (I was outside the door).”
Nikki  “Cool.”

Seconds later I bang on the door and go inside.  This time nobody is lying around; it’s Jagerbomb madness.  I quickly cash in on the opportunity to score a free bomb, the first drink of the night goes down as smooth as the millions to follow.  While we are drinking, I keep hearing talks of the “2 Dollar Beer Lady.”  I inquire as to what the hell everyone is talking about.  I’m told that a particular convenient store, which is ideally located right in the middle of the bar strip, sells $2 cans which you can pour into a cup and enjoy during your aimless wondering.  I am disgusted with myself for not noticing such an oasis the previous night.  After another couple Jagerbombs, I hear a knock at the door; it’s AJ.

Me  “Where you been?”
AJ  “By the pool.”
Me  “Let’s get fucked up.”

Everybody continues to drink as we prepare ourselves for what is to come.  The plan tonight is to try and get as drunk as possible before we head out, thus saving money.  This flawless plan goes to hell in a hand basket the moment I get drunk (I again become a millionaire).  Monnin goes outside and returns with the mini van (I referred to it as a “van” earlier, but it was indeed a “mini van”, my bad).  We all pile in and head for Duval.  I leave my bag here, assuming this is the safest place (finally, my first good idea).

Day 2 – 11:00pm (estimate)

One of the funniest things about Duval Street is the fact that you can drive on it at anytime, even when it’s flooded with hundreds of drunk Spring Breakers.  Imagine that you’re drinking in the streets; you then see an over-packed mini van cruising by slowly with the sliding door open.  Imagine the sound of 4 or 5 different voices spitting out shameless sexual advances at anything without a penis.  If you saw such a thing, you would have been looking at us.  Thank God we had a couple girls in the mini van, otherwise we would have looked like the biggest group of kid petters ever.  The mini van stops in the center of all the bars, the circus act piles out, then Monnin drives around the corner to find a parking spot (he is a team player).  I’m quickly escorted over towards the legendary “2 Dollar Beer Lady.”  She is hot; this does not go unnoticed.  She hands me 2 Miller Lites, I had her my $20.  Only seconds after arriving to the strip, my wallet is 25% lighter.  I make a shameless pass at her; she gives me the “please don’t do that again” smile.  2 Dollar Beer Lady 1, me 0 (I forget her real name, but I’m fairly confident that it started with a “L”).

We clog up the sidewalk right in front of the store and begin to drink, rapidly.  A radio in the store provides the music; we provide our own moves.  Groups of girls walk passed, having to split up to go around us (we are now positioned in the middle of the “stroll path”, except unlike the lesbian bitches from the beach, our presence is well received).  We begin to plug our new hotspot, the convenient store with the hot 2 Dollar Beer Lady.  “2 dollar beers all night, no cover!  Live music!”  Phrases like these are shouted at everyone who passes by.  I feel we deserved a cut of her evening profits, but she was hot so who cares.  In the distance, we see a familiar face approaching; It’s Krets.

Krets (spoken like the Budweiser commercial) “Wazzzzzup!”
AJ  “What’s up man.”
Me  “Hey oooooooooooo.”

That was an actual conversation.  Not too much was accomplished.  Krets is a wonderful addition to our bar promo street team.  Before a girl even gets close enough for me to check out, Krets has already corralled her towards the bar (convenient store).  We spend a good amount of time here, the idea being that once we enter an actual bar, we will most likely be posted up their for the rest of the night (we fear commitment).  As we hit on the attractive girls that walk by, we have not forgotten to insult the weird dudes.  Our main target: Gainesvillians.  These people are very easy to spot, but they bring this upon themselves.  If you’re on Spring Break, there is no need for a college guy to dress like a 50-year-old yachtsman.  Why these kids think it’s “hip” to dress like my dad (if he wore boat shoes, croakies, jorts, owned a Vespa, and was gay; thank God he’s none of the above), I will never fathom.  As this weaker male species passes by, we throw out quips such as “It stinks like Gainesville” or my personal favorite, “Gainesville supports incestual marriage.”  After making horribly crude sexual advances at women, insulting horribly dressed little boys, and drinking our weight in 2 dollar beers, it’s time to check out the bar scene.

Day 3 – 12:30 am (estimate)

Now comes the hardest part of any Spring Breaker’s night, choosing which bar to check out first (yeah I know, life’s a bitch).  I take out my phone and put in a call to UNC Sarah to see where her and her friends are partying.

Me  “Hey oooooooo, are ya’ll (mocking accent) still at Ricks?”
Sarah (loud as hell in the background) “Hey where are you?”
Me  “Stumbling in the streets.”
Sarah  “Yeah me too, we’re at Ricks.”
Me (confused) “Ok?”
Sarah  “Ya’ll need to come here.”
Me  “Ok, we’ll be there in a bit.”
Sarah  “Are ya’ll really gonna come or are you just sayin that?”
Me  “Naw, we’ll be there (unintentional lie).”
Sarah  “See ya.”

Here’s the situation; the problem is 2-fold.  The first being that you are more liking to just physically run into somebody than to meet up them via phone calls (we discovered this the first night when trying to figure out which bar “so and so” was stationed).  The second problem is that Ricks is 2 different bars.  There is an upstairs Ricks (which always has an enormous line and charges cover) and a downstairs Ricks (which smells bad, has an uglier crowd, but is much cheaper).  Clearly downstairs Ricks is the winner.  Johnny Boy, Nikki, and I head over as a recon team to see if we can find said Carolinians.  Hoping that they are downstairs, because we aren’t going to go upstairs, we stumble in there.  As predicted, it’s smelly and ugly.  We grab a beer, do a quick scan, then chalk it up as a loss and take off.  In the bar’s defense, it did have karaoke, but sadly this was not a strong enough positive to keep us there (perhaps it had something to do with the current rock star’s vocal talent being in the same range as her teeth count, low).   As we leave, I run into a UF friend of mine, Katrina (I have known her for about 10 years, so the UF thing doesn’t bother me).

Me  “Hey, what’s up?”
Katrina  “Heyyyyyyyyyyy”

She makes me look sober.  We share a hug and part ways.  We decide it’s best just to meet back over by our foolproof bar, Irish Kevin’s.  This time my worries about entry are non-existent.  As we pass by the roided out MIT grad student who guards the door, we head towards the bar.  I come across Franchize, Rizzo, and the Bonks, whom appear to be half dead but still drinking.  I mooch a beer out of one of the buckets they’ve ordered and head towards the bathroom.  Well look who it is, it’s that oh so nice African American gent from the night before.  I shuffle passed him quickly in hopes that he does not recognize me and try to chime in on that dollar I promised him.  As I’m at the urinal, breaking the seal, I catch a whiff of something foul (it’s not coming from the stall).  I sense Gainesville to my right.

Me  “Gainesville supports incestual marriage.”
Loser #1 (with heavy country accent) “Yeah they do, fuck them!”
Me  “Wait what?  Are you hating on your own school?”
Loser #1  “What the fuck did you say, I’m not from Gainesville, I’m from Tennessee!”
Me  “Oh no shit, my bad man, you had that Gainesville aroma, Tennessee is straight.”
Cool Kid #1  “Yeah, they wish they were from Tennessee, who do you cheer for?”
Me  “I go to UCF.”
Cool Kid #1  “Orlando right?  Man we met some hot girls from ya’lls school!”
Me (my head swells)  “Obviously.”
Cool Kid #1  “Well as long as you cheer for Tennessee when we play the Gators.”
Me  “I cheer for every Gator to contract syphilis.”
Cool Kid #1  “Then we are best friends.”
Me (as I zip up) “Right you are brother, peace!”
Cool Kid #1  “Take it easy!”

I cover my face like I’m hiding from paparazzi as I pass by the restroom attendant on the way out.  Unfortunately, I will never see my new best friend again.  So if there is some kid in Tennessee who remembers peeing next to me and bashing on Gainesville, let it be known that you will not be forgotten (lie).  As I walk back in search of any familiar face, one happens to run right into me.  It’s Mere, and of course she has another bag of douche trailing her.  Although it’s no longer the Gummy Bear, it’s just as bad.  You know those kids that wear pink shirts and pop their collars (homos); this is one of them.  He just happens to be out of costume tonight.  We only speak for a couple of minutes, then she hurries by because she knows if I get a chance to talk to said douche bag, I might ruin her game (this is understandable, because I most certainly would have).

I go back over to the zombie table (the Bonks and company) and grab another beer.  At this point, things are starting to become real hazy, so I can’t clearly remember how everything unfolded.  I think Johnny Boy, AJ, Tracy, and Audrey are still at Irish Kevin’s.  Others have gone to check out different drinking establishments.  We stumble over to one of the bars and order some Goldshlager.  I believe it was Johnny Boy who was the millionaire at this point, because I didn’t pay for the round, and AJ most certainly did not.  They leave to go somewhere else, I remain at Irish Kevin’s.  I hang out alone by the stage and jam out to the live music for a while (I do that thing where I pretend I’m really into the music so I don’t feel social awkward for being alone; it works).  I look over to my left at the now almost vacant zombie table.  The only one who remains is Big Bonk (he is what we call in the drinking world a “trooper”).  As I walk over towards him, a cute little blond girl and her friend pass by.  The blond girl stops, smiles at me, examines my tongue with hers, smiles again, and then walks away.  I walk over to Big Bonk, we converse.

Me  “Where did everybody go?”
Big Bonk  “Home, they’re weak.”
Me (spoken like I wasn’t) “So you’re drinking here alone?”
Big Bonk (spoken like a trooper) “I wasn’t ready to leave.”
Me  “I hear that, let’s get fucked up (as if we weren’t already)!”
Big Bonk  “Dibs!”

We kill the remaining 3 bud heavies in his bucket, and then fall out of the bar and back into the streets.  I get another phone call from UNC (this evening has been a fruitless game of phone tag).

Sarah  “Heyyyy!”
Me  “Hey ooooo, dryou you (you drunk)?”
Sarah  “NNOoooo (lie), youdrunsk (are you)?”
Me  “Yesssss (true).”

After a few more mumbles, we get disconnected.  I suggest to Big Bonk that now would be an opportune time to go check out the 2 Dollar Beer Lady.  He agrees and we make the 10-mile (10 foot) journey to our new destination.

Day 3 – 2:30am (complete guess)

It turns out that we weren’t the only ones to mastermind a return to the 2 Dollar Beer Lady.  We are reunited with some lost comrades.  I’m not sure whom all we meet up with, but I can guarantee you that AJ, Tracey, Audrey, and Greg were there.  I’m pretty sure that Johnny Boy and everyone else we’d originally ridden with are also there, but I’m not positive.  All of us, along with a not forgotten Big Bonk, go check out this bar at the end of Duval Street (I forget the name, but I recall it had a very large front patio area).  As we approach, there is a situation.  You cannot bring drinks into the bar.  Since I’m broke as a joke, and just spent my last 2 borrowed dollars, I desperately need to find a loophole.  We find a wooden deck top that is half way in the bar, and half way in the streets.  We reach over a low fence and set our drinks down inside the bar with intentions of getting them once we enter (this plan actually works, go figure).  I notice the bouncer has one of those black lights that the Crack Head Mr. Clean had been using the previous night.  Obviously at this point I fear nothing, I’m so confident (drunk) that nothing can possibly stop me.  Clearly I was right, and after being let in, I rush over to the table of smuggled beers.

Everyone else comes in, grabs their respective beer, and swarms the scene.  I wait at the table for Big Bonk to enter (he has somehow managed to separate from the group and is about 10 people behind).  He comes over and grabs his beer.  While I was waiting, I did a quick scan of the scene.  I noticed a rather vacant bar behind me, equipped with 2 very attractive girls, who were alone at the far end.  After doing some extensive math, I realized that there are two of us (Big Bonk and I), and find it to be a good idea to mingle.  As we walk over, the girls are grinding on each other (generally a very good sign, unless of course they’re from Jersey).  Almost immediately, one of the girls grabs Big Bonk and starts grinding on him.  The other girl gives me a smile and I move in for the kill.

Me  “Hi.”
Grinder #2  “Hi.”

Generally, I come on strong and very right to the point, but I’m going for that “shy guy” approach with this girl.  Why you ask?  Well if she had come straight out and started grinding on me like her presumably abstinent friend had done to Big Bonk, I would have been aggressive.  The fact that she didn’t, tells me 1 of 2 things: She is either not as skanky as she looks, or she is a lesbian.  Noticing no smell of Jersey, I disregard the lesbian assumption.  Conversation continues…

Me (being cliché and lame) “Where do you go to school?”
Grinder #2  “UF.”
Me (in total shock) “Really?”
Grinder #2 (sensing my tone with a laugh) “Yeah really, why is that not believable?”
Me (giving her a back handed complement) “Because you’re not ugly.”
Grinder #2  “Thanks?”

Before I’m forced to come up with a plan of attack to fix this train wreck of a conversation, her friend saves the day.

Grinder #1  “You two come dance with us!”
Me (spoken very shyly) “I’m not much of a dancer.”
Grinder #2 (now believing I’m actually shy) “Ok.”

It turns into a drunken 4-person conga line.  I believe at one point, there wasn’t even a girl between Big Bonk and I (party foul).  Grinder #2 stops dancing and pulls me back to the bar for more conversation.

Grinder #2  “So where do you go to school.”
Me  “UCF.”
Grinder #2  “How do you like that?”
Me  “It’s fun.”
Grinder #2 “You’re not much of a talker are you?”
Me  “No (biggest lie I have ever told in my life).”
Grinder #2  “It’s ok, you don’t have to be nervous.”
Me  “I’m not nervous.”
Grinder #2 (finds this laughable) “Oh really?”
Me (said with a homo-style giggle) “Well maybe a little.”

If you’re thinking to yourself, “wow this kid is such a homo”, then I’m doing a good job.  That’s the idea when you go for the shy guy approach; some girls like this lame shit.

Side note: I never EVER do this anymore.  From like 18-21ish, every once in a while I’d pull this “shy guy” bullshit.  I really don’t know why; it usually never worked for me.  I think after a while I just got so bored with the foolproof “I’m an asshole but I’m honest” gig.  My buddy Dez, who definitely falls under the “nice guys finish last” category, always chuckles about a freshman year occurrence we had.  Dez and I were at Mere’s place (she lived in Boardwalk by UCF) and it was the first time we were meeting all of her friends.  One of them was flirting with me and I told her that she wouldn’t be interested because “to be honest, I’m an asshole.”  Dez was nearby when she replied “Oh my God!  I love guys who are assholes but honest.”  Because of this, he still cries at night.  18-year-old girls are awesome.

Just as I was working my shy angle, Big Bonk interrupts.

Big Bonk  “Who wants a shot?”

Both girls agree this would be a good idea, as do I (I try and pretend like I’m not too interested in alcohol, raging alcoholics usually aren’t shy, Grinder #2 might pick up on this).  Big Bonk hails over the bartender.

Big Bonk  “Can I get 4 shots of Whiskey.”
Bartender  “No, I’m not serving [the girls] anymore.”
Big Bonk  “What?  Why?”
Bicurious Bartender  “They have had enough.”

I give a curious stare to Grinder #2.  Is it possible that I was so drunk that I thought she was sober?  Um I guess so, but that doesn’t seem right.  Before I have a chance to question the Bartender, I see the 2 girls getting escorted out.

Big Bonk  “Make that 2 shots of Whiskey!”

Not being as content as Big Bonk with the sudden disappearance of a possible mate, I harass the Bartender.

Me  “Dude, why did you kick those girls out?”
Gay Bartender  “Bro, they were wasted.”
Me (still in disbelief) “You sure, [that girl] seemed coherent?”
Gay Virgin Bartender  “Yeah I’m sure, it was [Grinder #1]’s birthday.”

Still not completely satisfied, but fearing he’ll not serve us the Whiskey, I shut my mouth.  I can only assume that the blonde’s level of intoxication was what we in the biz call “ideal”.  The shot of Whiskey fixes everything.  We abandon this post and search around for the rest of the crew.  They’re gathered at a table, looking half dead and not so sober.  AJ sits still, staring at nothing.  As last call is announced and we are ushered out of the bar, it’s time to head home.  Still one big problem: we have no home.

Day 3 – 4am (complete guess)

Johnny Boy, Monnin, and the rest of the Joad family pile into their mini van and head back to their hotel.  AJ and I have caught wind of a buddy who has a hotel near the Bonks’.  Oh yes, I almost forgot to mention, we lost Big Bonk.  As we left our final bar, he was nowhere in sight.  I called and woke up Bonk to get Big Bonk’s phone number.  I called him with no luck.  I later found out that he had started to wander back on his own.  I was told that somewhere along the way he fell down a flight of stairs.  So again, after we left the bar, AJ and I managed to separate from the pack and now stumble the streets as a duo.  I’m sure we saw many interesting sights on the journey back, but only one comes to mind.  An African American pre-op transvestite was rollerblading down the streets, talking shit to anything and everything in its path.  Finally a college kid, who did not fear jail time for committing a hate crime, answered back.  It’s probably best that I can’t remember the exact words exchanged, because this would no longer be a family story (although I’m quite certain the idea of this being a family story waved bye-bye with the introduction of “Skittles”).  Finally, in the distance, we stop at our new destination: The Blue Marlon Motel (most definitely not a hotel).

Day 3 – 5:00am (complete guess)

We call our residing amigo but clearly he is speaking sputnik and unable to direct us to his room.  He says he is coming out and he will find us.  The motel is U-shaped with a pool/deck in the middle.  As we look for said friend, we run across our first problem of the evening: a rent-a-cop.  Not just any rent-a-cop, this wannabe cherry topper is on a power trip (you know the kind, I need not further explain).  As he approaches us, we fork, knowing he can only harass one of us.  Needless to say, lucky me.  AJ disappears into the darkness, leaving Sergeant Savage and I in a heads up battle.  The verbal dueling beings…

Me  “Hey, what’s going on?”
Sergeant Savage  “Nothing, where are you going?”
Me  “My buddy has a place in here, I’m going to stay there.”
Sergeant Loser  “Is your last name on the room?”
Me  “Yeah, I’m the cosigner.”
Sergeant Virgin  “What’s your last name?”
Me  “Mehoff.”
Sergeant Not Amused  “If the room isn’t registered under your name, you can’t stay here.”
Me  “Sir, it’s my friend’s hotel room, it’s cool.”
Sergeant No It’s Not Cool  “No, it’s not cool.”
Me (as I walk away) “Whatever dude.”
Sergeant Persistent  “Who was that other kid, where did he go?”
Me  “I don’t know, I just ran into him here.”

Just as things begin to heat up between Sergeant Little Cock and myself, AJ calls me.  Now let’s get one thing straight, the rule of thumb is to always kiss up to anything with a badge.  Whether it’s real, plastic, or constructed out of cardboard, just shut your mouth and obey.  Odds are, even if the badge isn’t real, the impersonator has a phone with which he can call the real fuzz.  It’s always the kids who mouth off who get fucked, so shut up and pretend you’re scared.  Unfortunately, this kid petting cock jocky had pushed my last button.  So I abandon the rule of thumb and indirectly lace into this buzz killer.

Me  “Yo dude, what’s up?”
AJ  “What’s going on?”
Me  “Not much, I’m just trying to go to my buddy’s room, but officer friendly has a problem.
AJ  “Is he still next to you?”
Me  “Yeah, he’s about a foot away, and eye fuckin me like I’m a bear claw.”

AJ laughs and I tell him I have to go, after noticing Sergeant Syphilis reaching for his phone.  Indeed I have used strong enough verbal ammunition to push him over the edge.  The police are now on their way.  I begin to exit the lot and walk back the way we came; I have a tail.  Sergeant Thrice Divorced follows me all the way off the lot.  As I wave goodbye (with my middle finger), we part ways.  Moments after I exit the hotel parking lot, I get a phone call from Tracey.

Tracey (in a panicky tone) “Hey, where are you guys?”
Me (sensing the urgency) “Just roaming the streets, what’s up?”
Tracey  “Me and Audrey are walking towards the Blue Marlon.”
Me  “I’m just leaving that place, keep walking towards it and we’ll run into each other.”
Tracey  “Ok, these creepy guys are behind us, walk fast please.”
Me  “Ok, we’re on our way.”

I call AJ but can’t get a hold of him.  I hustle down the street, solo and hastily, towards the worried girls.  At this point, I’m hoping the “creepy guys” have turned off; I’m in no mood to get jumped by Key West Gangsters (gay men in leather pants).  As predicted, I run right into Tracey and Audrey.

Me  “Hey, you guys alright?”
Tracey  “Yeah, these creepy guys were following us, I think we lost them.”
Me  “Well lucky for them, they were about to get fucked up (lie).”
Audrey  “Where’s AJ?”
Me  “Somewhere back towards the hotel, but turn around, you don’t want to walk that way.”

Tracey keeps questioning why so I just keep telling her the cops are headed that way, and I have no interest in being near them.  Ok, let’s back up for a second, what about AJ, what happened to him?  It turns out that he’s stashed away back at the Blue Marlon Motel.  Where you ask?  Good question.  If it hasn’t been blatantly evident, irony and coincidence play a major role in this entire journey.  It turns out that Krets also had a room at the Blue Marlon.  AJ was stashed away in it.  Apparently Sergeant Bag-O-Douche also had another code name, Sergeant 20-20.  He had seen the room AJ jumped into, and after I peaced out, he went to said room to lay down the law.  As he knocks, AJ throws a bed sheet over his head (he’s practically a ninja).  Krets opens the door, along side him is the bike thief we had run into earlier while seated on the patio deck of our restaurant (the stairs in front of Circle K).  Sergeant Short Bus demands to know the whereabouts of the “dark haired kid” (AJ).  Krets explains how he is mistaken, and no one else is in the room. After several minutes of stellar interrogation by Sergeant No Degree, he finally gives up and walks away.  Now that we’re all caught up, let’s get back to the other trio, Tracey, Audrey, and I.

As we distance ourselves from the pig pen (the Motel), I see other drunkards walking towards it.  I warn them that it’s not a good place to go unless they have a room with their name on it.  They heed my warning and turn around.  Moments later, a cop car shoots past us and veers into the Motel parking lot.  We take a left and head back towards Duval Street (it’s only 1 block over, and we are near the hotel side, not the bars).  I notice a CVS on the left and dive into it.  I buy a much-needed water and an even more necessary bag of Gummy Bears.  I flirt shamelessly (it never stops) with the cashier, make my purchase, and we continue the walk.  We walk pass a diner, and Tracey decides it would be a good idea to flirt with every drunk sleaze bag that loiters outside it.  After avoiding possible rapings and certain death, we take another left onto Duval.  As I look down the street, I see a familiar sight, the beach, which is adjacent to the hotel and last night’s resting place (the pier).  The girls spot their car nearby and suggest I sleep with them in the car; I regretfully decline because I have a place (pier) at which I can crash.  We split up; they head towards their car as I head towards Mecca.

Day 3 – 6:00am (complete guess)

As I approach the hotel, I get a call from AJ.

AJ  “Bro, you’ll never believe what just happened (I just previously explained it).”
Me  “I bet my night was just as weird, where you at?”
AJ  “I’m sleeping on the beach next to the Bonks’ hotel.”

How we both sniffed out this hotel, I don’t know.  When you’ve been drinking all night, things just have a funny way of “working themselves out.”  I was about 100 yards behind him, but I’m walking to his left.  I refuse to try and sleep on the beach again; the last thing I need right now is to be hassled by Soft Ass (the tard from the previous night).  I walk pass the Bonks’ room and make it to a little place I like to call home (the pier).  I see AJ’s lifeless body laying on one of the beach lawn chairs about 50 yards to my right.  I call him back.

Me  “Hey jerk off, don’t sleep over there, you’ll get throw out.”
AJ  “Yeah right.”
Me  “Dude, that’s the place I told you I tried to crash last night.”
AJ  “Oh no shit, where are you?”
Me  “At the pier next to you.”
AJ  “I’ll be there in a minute.”

I round up a couple beds (lounge chairs) and try and strategically place them out of the view of any authority figures (losers with cell phones that love to call the real police).  About 10 minutes later, my phone rings again.

AJ  “Bro, where are you?”
Me  “At the fuckin pier like I told you!”
AJ  “Dude, I’m at the pier and I don’t see you.”
Me (as I stand up searching about) “Ok, describe to me where you are?”

There is no need; I’ve spotted him.  He is at the pier, except it’s the one on the other side of the beach and not connected to the hotel.  So now we have about 200 yards of sand between us and can only see silhouettes of each other.

Me  “You see me dumbass, I’m across the beach.”
AJ  “Jesus Christ, I’ll be over there in a little.”

He makes it over in about 2 minutes; I’m already passed out.  He finds it hilarious to wake me up by scaring the fuck out of me.  Yeah, he’s a real hoot.  Finally, after hours of chaos and confusion, it’s time to put this evening behind us.  I had managed to steal some sheets (a pillow case and a wash cloth) off a maid’s cart on my way to the pier.  This would become my blanket.  AJ had also scrounged up some make shift comforter.  Tomorrow is our last day, and it is sure to be an unforgettable (forgettable) one.  I’ll finally have the opportunity to sleep indoors and not alone.  Unfortunately, tonight’s sleep will be as brief as the previous.  Before I know it, I’m awoken again.  This time not by any voice, but instead by Mother Nature.

CONTINUE ON TO PART 5