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Saturday, March 26, 2005

Spring Break

My girlfriend Ivette and I spent our Spring Break in Daytona Beach, Florida. Luisana graciously gave me a ride to Willard Airport to pick up our rental car last Saturday and by 1pm my wingperson and I left the chilly climate of Champaign-Urbana for the 19hr and 33min drive southeast.

Our Yellow Chevy Cavalier

The Spring Breakers in Florida seemed to be clones of the same clannish greeksters that haunt campus bars here on a Saturday night. They were similar to the ones described in a recent Chicago Sun-Times article on the sex fiends that frequent Kam's:

"Some guys sport fashionable Abercrombie baseball jackets, too-tight T’s or a studied sartorial mess of wrinkles and untucked shirts. Young women wear lacy silk camisoles and sunglasses. Others model wide-necked sweaters slipped down around their shoulders, exposing bronze cleavage and bra straps."
The article was about the raging sexual appetites of college partiers, and it seemed to not only accurately portray the scene at so many bars close to home, but also of those thousands of miles away in Florida.

The guys in Daytona were like so many relentless mosquitos hovering over the girls, the juicy fruits jiggling across the sand to the hip-hop beats. Ivette was one of those Juicy Fruits. I was the Steady Waving Hand, the Fly Swatter, the calm & confident reminder of who's going home with whom.

Now don't get me wrong, i've been that raging mosquito plenty of times in the past - "don't hate the player," etc. etc. All i'm saying is that it would have been nice to have an ally there like Jon, or Jeff to hold down the fort while I went to refill on beer or pee - gentlemen that I know can trust amongst a group of horny strangers.

Maybe Daytona Beach isn't the place for couples to begin with. Whatever. I still had a great time laying out in the sun on the beach with my girl, listening to the ebb and flow of the Atlantic Ocean. At night along the shore there are bundles of sea foam that look like newborn seals or shored-up baby whales from afar. The waves of water tickle the tops of your feet before they retreat backwards like a blanket being gently pulled from a bed.

Speaking of bed, it's been a long ride - a 1,058 mile long ride.

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