One adolescent summer, 12 of our friends decided to stay in
an upscale community at a friend’s beach house down in the athlete’s foot of
the US - the sunny city of Fort Myers. Being underage and without fake ID’s, we
remained super chill, knowing damn well that the boys wouldn’t disappoint in
the booze department. One full week of no adult supervision and horny
teenagers? When does our plane leave?!? Upon arrival, we all settled in and
unpacked (Side note: All the girls shared one room upstairs with 2 twin beds
and a pull out couch. Unpacking consisted of pulling out our bikinis and a
toothbrush). We immediately cannonballed into the pool one by one and started
shot gunning a case of Milwaukee’s Best. This was the good life.
As the week blurred on, and the garage started to fill up
with never ending compost that consisted of cheap beer and empty cartons of
smokes, we felt the need to heat things up. After a long and stressful day of
floating on a raft sipping on deliciously blended fruity drinks of fresh
strawberries and gasoline, Waz and I felt it necessary to rinse the chlorine
out of our hot pockets. Being a team player in a house full of people, we
thought it would be best to just jump into the shower together to save hot
water for the rest of our buds. Without hesitation we grabbed a few beers and
dove right in. She said “You know what would make this even more fun?” Our
telepathic senses kicked in full force and before she could even finish her
sentence, I had the beer bong in hand and was down on one knee. Both buck naked
with soap in our eyes, Waz did me a solid and filled that bong to the rim. We
had it down to a science: I shampooed her hair while she hit the bong and vice
versa. If everyone felt comfortable enough to wash their best friend’s body,
water bills would be cut in half. It was actually quite genius and made shower
time way more fun - or so we thought. We had so much fun sucking down soapy
beer that it ended up happening 4 nights in a row. One of the boys did not
appreciate this, and proceeded to beat the door down in a jealous rage. Did you
really think calling us lezzy’s was about to offend us and ruin our beer bong
bubble bath? NOPE!!! I said, “Where is the Pante...” as Waz reached for the
Pantene Pro-V for damaged hair and squirted a quarter size dollop on my scalp.
She knew what I liked.
After one of our eco-friendly showers together, we thought
it would be fun to get
out of the shower and out of the house to see what the
sophisticated youth of Florida had to offer. We ended up at a party where our
friend’s cousin introduced us to a group who resembled the entire Miami
Dolphins football team. A party full of black men that were clocking in at
about 320 was just what the doctor ordered. We were completely out of our
element and loving it. There were men holding up beer bongs that could have
scratched the moon, but with all of our recent shower experience, we wrapped
our lips around the tube and sucked it down like a boss. Blending right in, we continued
to participate in all of the Beer Olympic events until the party was starting
to wind down. As the night wore on, Waz ended up getting into an extremely
uncomfortable stare off with a hefty gal inhaling a box of Kix in the corner.
When I had to break the news to her that Precious had won, she admitted defeat,
and our night came to a close.
It was a success: We made new friends, asked for some
autographs, and swayed the whole way home until we reached our twin size bed,
which already had 2 girls in it. Fuck that noise. Being the princess that I am,
I went downstairs by the boys and found the only spot open that actually had a
pillow and a blanket. I cuddled up next to my friend and immediately passed
out. As the sun starting coming up, both him and I were abruptly woken up by
what sounded like the Titanic’s ship whistle warning us of an ice burg straight
ahead. Scared shitless, he yelled “What in the hell was that?” Just having
woken up myself, I was also confused as to where that noise had come from.
Whatever it was, it shook the picture frames off of the walls and blew out the
guest bedroom window. When I realized that the fog horn had actually come out
of me, I started to sweat. I ripped enough ass that the people of Florida could
have mistaken it for a hurricane warning. I put my hand on his chest and a
finger to his lips and whispered “Shhhhh, go back to bed. It was nothing.”
After feeling like I was going into cardiac arrest, I fell back asleep and went
on with my vacation like it was just a bad dream, never speaking of it again.
The next day, waking up with no hangover whatsoever, all the
ladies decided to throw on some lip gloss and head to the clubhouse. It was our
last day to be complete fuck-ups with zero remorse, and since the boys decided
to go boating, we had nobody there to hold us back. Our flight was scheduled to
take off at 4 pm that day, so how much damage could we possibly do? To our
surprise, we met a nice pedophile in his mid-forty’s who just so happened to be
a “pro-golfer”. We noticed him making eyes at us, so we took out our rape
whistles, threw our friend with the biggest tits at him, hoping he would take
the bait. SCORE!! The next thing we knew endless rounds of fruity shots arrived
before us and our 2 drink minimum turned into us drying out the bar. $500 on
his tab and 46 missed calls later, the boys showed up to take us to the
airport, and they were far from pleased due to the state we were in. Since we
had declined all of their calls asking us to come help clean the house and
pack, they ended up having to pack all 14 of our suitcases for us. In the
middle of ordering us another round, I felt a very pissed off ‘finger tap’ on
my shoulder. Having no choice but to leave our tequila shots with training
wheels behind, we fell off of our barstools and stumbled to the SUV. Each guy
grabbed a gal and buckled her into a belt. Also as a precaution, they felt it
necessary to staple our plane tickets and forms of identification to our
sarongs. Good thinking fellas.
By the time we got to the airport, each person moved through
the airport like a quadriplegic. After suffering through security, we had about
30 minutes before our plane took off. Being the ladies that we are, we spent
those precious minutes making out with the public toilets. My friend and I were
projectile vomiting so hard that it was actually hitting the tacky Floridian
backsplash and nowhere near the porcelain goddess. I begged the girls to go
without me, offering them all the money I had in my pocket to just step on my neck
and end it. Unfortunate for everyone else, I made my flight. Just my luck, I
ended up with a middle seat next to a fat stranger and one of the girls. To
make matters worse, my old coach from high school was vacationing in Fort Myers
as well and ended up sitting in the seat directly behind mine, with her newborn
child on her lap. PERFECT! What are the odds of this happening - I was now
living my worst nightmare and she was getting drunk off my fumes.
As we took off I began feeling dehydrated from my bathroom
activity, so I restlessly waited for the beverage cart to come around. I felt
like I was having an out of body experience and if I didn’t get all the water
on the plane, they were going to have to fly my ass home cargo style in one of
the caskets below my feet. I repeatedly buzzed the flight attendant, begging
her for a shot of life. She calmly told me that they were prepping the beverage
cart and I would have some water in no time. What felt like years later, the
bitch finally showed up, and feeling the need to add to my anxiety, she hands
me a fucking Dixie cup with a teaspoon of tepid liquid. After snorting it, I
handed it back to her and asked for another. Agitated, she re-filled it for me
and kept rolling down the aisle. My girlfriend next to me was pretending to
sleep so I would stop asking her to buzz the attendant over for endless amounts
of agua. I was not about to wait for her to cave, so I pressed her button
feeling very sneaky. Still shitfaced, “Pssssst! Mam, my friend here would like
some water. She’s real thirsty”. The attendant looked over at her “sleeping”
body and knew I was behind this. After causing a huge scene, which involved a
waterfall of tears on my end (tears I couldn’t afford to waste), I finally
convinced her to bring me my own water bottle. I chugged the one thing that
could save my life, flipped American Airlines the bird for their hospitality,
then ripped my friend’s pillow from under her head and knocked myself
unconscious. After we landed, I felt like a whole new woman as I jumped off the
plane. The limo picked us up, we lit a joint, and reminisced the whole way
home.
Cheers to Humidity and Tearless Shampoo,
Ti-Bag
Lit a joint...of mid -_-
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