Spring Break 2010

by Kevin Howell

Spring Break 2010, a week during which one of myself and Dan’s most epic tales to date transpired. Due to not remembering a vast majority of events that went on throughout the week, I feel it necessary to only recount our most prodigious day that I remember most of, which happened to be Tuesday.

The day begins:

I awaken on a couch at Fat James’ beach house and survey my surroundings, seeing as I have no recollection of arriving there the night before. I consult with Wender, wake up David James, and demand we go to find Dan. I then eat a corndog and chug two beers before heading out, at this point it is approximately 9:00 a.m.

We arrive at the Days Inn to find Dan napping in the corner of the room a few buddies of ours had rented. He apparently had pissed himself in one of the beds and been shunned to the corner at some point in the night. After Dan had collected himself we struck out on a mission to get breakfast. Today, our salubrious choice of food couldn’t have possibly been worse—Mexican. In addition to the food, Dan’s breakfast consisted of two margaritas; I knew where this day was heading already.

After ‘breakfast,’ our next stop was indubitable: the liquor store. Dan comes out of the liquor store with a pint of the cheapest vodka available, a 30-pack of Natural Light, and yet another margarita, this one being about twice the size of the previous two. We then return to the Days Inn to rejoin our other buddies, who will remain unnamed due to the fact that they are actually respectable members of society. As we wait on them to get back from eating Dan decides I should chug the entire pint of vodka.

It is now 10:00 a.m.

I have absolutely no reluctance and immediately tip the bottle up. After about a shot, I realize this was not a good idea. I lower the bottle of vodka and say:

“Dude, I think that was a bad move.”
Dan “Pussy! Finish that shit!”
Kevin “No man, I think I’m about to lose it.”

I should note I have only thrown up a handful of times in all of my experiences with alcohol. I don’t know if it was the amount I had drank the night before, the Mexican food, the vodka before noon or a combination of all three that caused it, but I immediately started hurling over the railing of the second floor.

After about the third heave of the orange colored phenomenon that had previously been residing in my stomach, I noticed a girl on the first floor laughing at my misfortune.

Kevin “DON’T LOOK AT ME!”
Heave number 4.

The rude bitch goes to her room and gathers her other strumpet comrades.

Heave number 5.
Kevin “THIS NEVER HAPPENED!”
Heave number 6.

My stomach, now empty, decides to stop humiliating me and allows me to recompose myself. Fully disgraced that I have already had an audience of 5 women watching me vomit up something the likes of which I’ve never seen before noon on a Tuesday, I decide we should meet up with our friends and continue what we started. We arrive at their room and I demolish the remaining pint of vodka within the next 5 minutes while Dan annihilates the rest of his massive margarita.

Our next several hours consisted of screaming obscenities at people from the second floor balcony of the Days Inn while working on the 30-pack. I can’t really discern any specific conversations because I was nearly blacked out drunk, but we were screaming things along the lines of:

“GUIDOS! LOOK UP HERE YOU PUSSIES! GET BACK TO THE SHORE!”

“HEY! WHERE ARE YOU FROM? NO ONE CARES! SHOW YOUR BOOBS!”

“BLONDE HAIR! STOP HANGING OUT WITH FATTIES SO YOU GET ALL THE ATTENTION! YOU SELFISH BITCH! BIG GIRLS NEED LOVE TOO!”

To a guy dragging a cross down the beach telling people they were condemned to hell:

“JESUS DIDN’T HAVE WHEELS YOU FUCKING HYPOCRITE! HOW DARE YOU DENIGRATE THE GOOD LORD LIKE THIS!”

We then decide to strike out for the beach after meeting back up with Fat James and KO at Hooter’s. As we are walking toward the beach access, Dan starts projectile vomiting half-way through his beer. This is basically how it went down:

Heave number 1.

Dan “WHORES!” To all the people on the outside deck of Hooter’s.

Heave number 2. Resumes chugging his beer.

Heave number 3.

Dan “FUCK EVERYONE! AAHHHH!” Resumes chugging beer.

Heave number 4.

Dan “WHEN WILL IT END! FUUUUCK!” Finishes beer.

While this was happening I was practically awestruck and could do nothing but laugh and try to finish my beer, as I felt it was only just if Dan was finishing his beer AS he was throwing up.

Rather than continuing onto the beach with Fat James and KO, Dan and I strike off across the street to the Chevron to buy cigarettes. While Dan is in the store, I accost a homeless man.

Kevin “Homeless man! Do you have some DRUGS!”
HomelessMan “Man, I got these dime sacks, man.
Kevin “Let me see that shit NOW!” I then look at what this homeless man is trying to sell me.
Kevin “Homeless man, do NOT insult my motherfucking intelligence because I am drunk. These are obviously only worth $5.”
HomelessMan “It ain’t like that man, not at all. I could do $8.
Kevin “Drugs aren’t my thing, I was just curious if you were holding. Let me hit that fucking beer bro.”

I then proceeded, after thoroughly wiping the mouth of the bottle and trying not to touch it to my lips for fear of AIDS, Herpes, etc; to down this homeless man’s entire 32 oz King Cobra Malt Liquor despite his protests.

Dan approaches me and my homeless compatriot with three 32oz Natural Lights, giving us each one. I let the homeless man know the respect he has gained by doing nothing as I chugged his beer:

Kevin “Homeless man, you are essentially now my best fucking friend. You are our BOY! You’re partying with us tonight.”
HomelessMan “Hell yeah man, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. Times are tough.”

I hand Dan my 32 oz Natty and we set off across the road to get back to the beach. Before we even make it half-way across the street, we are stopped by two policemen who had been hanging out in the parking lot next to the store.

Cop1 “What the hell do you guys think you’re doing? You can’t have those beers open out here, at least put them in a bag.”

HomelessMan makes a mad dash for the beach. The cops just blow it off.

Dan “Sorry man, I didn’t know.” Dumps out both beers and throws them in the trashcan next to the port-a-potties.

The cops decide that is sufficient enough punishment and let us carry on our way. We finally get to the beach and see HomelessMan lurking at the bottom of the dune-walkover, conversing with one of his equally home-lacking affiliates. I immediately decide he has royally fucked up.

Kevin “HOMELESS MAN! WHAT THE FUCK BRO? We take you under our wing and you desert us like this? Nah, fuck that, give me that fucking beer.”
HomelessMan “Man don’t do me like that, it’s all I got.”
Dan “FUCK YOU! I bought you that beer you fucking bum, and then you just leave us like that.
Kevin “You could have had a great night, but you ruined it. I thought you were our fucking boy.”

I take his beer and chug the entire thing except for about a mouthful.

Kevin “Have fun with that, asshole.”

We walk away.

Note: My only story-worthy memory in between our encounter with HomelessMan and later in the night is exposing myself to some cheerleader from Indiana.

Kevin “Show me your boobs. I am hung like a moose.”
CheerWhore “Show me your dick.”

I whip out my penis and start shaking it at her.

She shows me her breasticles.

Kevin “Now you want to fuck me.”
CheerWhore “It’s not that big.”
Kevin “It’s a grower, not a show-er, BITCH!”

Swing and a miss.

Skipping ahead a couple of hours, this is where the real fun begins.

We arrive at our first bar of the night, Latitudes. Things are going good; I’m content with talking to random sluts and fucking with the plethora of losers milling around the place for the moment. I decide that I’m a tad drunker than I realized after I got out onto the back deck of the place.

I smoothly attempt to kick back on a bench that was located by the back rail, the main problem here being that this particular bench was non-existent.

As I fall flat on my ass amidst a massive crowd of people, I see the bouncer immediately begin heading in my direction. Next thing I know, he has me by the collar and is taking me towards the door. Dan appears, seemingly out of nowhere, to propose my vindication to this burly son of a bitch. In all our nights of drunken debauchery I have NEVER saw Dan do what he did next—compose himself.

Dan “Hang on man, it’s cool. He’s with me. I’ll keep an eye on him from now on.”
Bouncer “Alright man. But I swear one more outburst or anything from this guy and he’s gone.”
Dan “I got you man, you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

All I could do was stare in amazement. DAN had just convinced a bouncer not to kick me out of a bar while equally, if not more, drunk than myself.  Dan held true to his promise, momentarily at least. The next thing I knew, Dan was already gone and I was being asked to leave by the same cumbersome individual who had previously attempted to eject me.

In my drunken stupor, I staggered toward the Days Inn. As I crossed the Hooter’s parking lot I saw one of my buddies, Wender, sitting at a table by the window with some girls. I immediately write the Days Inn off and stumble inside. I have virtually no memory after I entered Hooter’s other than the locked door when I was leaving, but Wender recounted to me what went down. He told it to me something like this:

“You walked up to the table and started yelling. Then, the waitress asked you to sit down, so you called her a whore and let out a yell consisting of a string of unintelligible curse words. Kind of like a five year old that didn’t get their way, but drunk and cursing. She then told me to get you out of there before they had to, so you proceeded to try and exit through a locked door. Upon discovering the door was locked, you started screaming again and attacking it until I grabbed you by the shirt, dragged you out of there, and took you back to the bar; where shortly afterward I lost you again.”

After the alcohol in my system had diffused enough for me to make coherent thoughts, I reunite with Dan and we set out in search of more places to fuel our drunken adventure. I can’t remember at all what the name of the second bar we went to was, but I know we were only in there long enough to scream and belittle people for roughly five minutes before we were removed from there as well.

Then came the Red Door Saloon.

We walk in, and I immediately snatch someone’s mixed drink off of the counter and chug it. We then have this conversation with the bartender.

Dan “WHORE! SHOTS!”
Bartender “I need to see you guys’ IDs.”
Kevin “I lost my fucking wallet.”
Dan “SHOTS!”
Bartender “OK…Wait, you have X’s on your hands.
Kevin “Because I lost my fucking wallet you idiot! I lost EVERYTHING! MY ID, DEBIT CARD, EVERYTHING! SHOTS! PLEASE!”
Bartender “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Dan “WHORE! Give me two shots, and I will give him one.”
Bartender “I would guys, but I can’t do that.”
Dan “OK! FUCK! Give me two shots, and I will take them BOTH!”
Kevin “Yeah do that, quit being an uppity bitch.”
Bartender “Hang on just a second, OK?”

We assume this is good news, myself and Dan celebrate with a much called for fist bump

Bartender returns:

“Yeah, you guys better get the fuck out of here. Like, now.”

We strike out in search of somewhere that provides alcohol that can handle our boisterous hilarity. Along the way, we try to yank open the locked doors of a bar because we see people inside. We both snatch the doors and yell a couple times before moving on.

We found out the next day that this “bar” was some type of Christian missionary place.

Oops.

After winding up in several shady places, none of which proved to be successful, we find ourselves at an all-night Pizza Hut/Taco Bell amongst a formidable crowd of fellow Spring-Breakers. While Dan is screaming at everyone I tap a fat girl with what could only be described as “pubic-hair” hair on the shoulder.

Kevin “Excuse me. You are fat.”
PubeHead “Fuck you!” Turns back around.
Kevin “I’m kidding, where are you from?”
PubeHead “Michigan.”
Kevin “Correction, you are a fat guido. Nobody loves you. Your parents don’t even love you. I doubt Jesus even loves you.”

She gives me a look of pure disgust before telling me to fuck myself and turning back around. I notice a decent crowd of people who are cracking up after observing this scenario; so I make the most deranged face I can before making a “gun” with my index, middle finger and thumb and pretending to blast PubeHead in the back of the cranium.

By this point, Dan has worked his way to the front of the line and is screaming:

“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PIZZA! WHERE THE FUCK IS IT YOU WHORE!”

I’m not even sure he had ordered. The woman behind the counter kindly tells us to get the fuck out before she calls the police. We happily oblige.

Yep, I’m going to hell.

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