Spring Break, an American tradition to get turnt up

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First Posted: 3/10/2015

Spring Break is a time-honored American tradition among college kids everywhere that involves drinking your face off, passing out on the beach and waking up next to someone nicknamed Big Floppy Donkey Dick. Hey, it happens.

According to SpringBreak.com, the custom dates back to the early 20th century after “The Great Miami Hurricane” swept across southern Florida in 1926. In an effort to rebuild the city and attract visitors, the first Olympic sized municipal pool was built in Ft. Lauderdale. Swimming was just becoming a popular competitive sport at the time. Word about the pool spread to Ivy League students on Easter vacations with their families at West Palm Beach and Miami estates.

Looking for a way to get a jump on the competition, the swimming coach at Colgate University in Hamilton, New York, took some members of his swim team to Ft. Lauderdale, to give the pool a try. Word spread and by 1938, the College Coaches Swim Forum was formed and college swim teams from around the country made an annual trip to Ft. Lauderdale.

By 1953, the city saw more than 15,000 students traveling to Ft. Lauderdale each spring.

Today, the future doctors, lawyers, teachers, business leaders, social workers and job-searching bartenders of the world are taking a break from all-nighters at the library and letting loose with a week of wild behavior all over the world, including Las Vegas, Miami, Cancun — even Ft. Lauderdale — to name a few.

Every hardworking co-ed deserves to get a little ratchet now and again. We’re not saying they have to rob a liquor store like in the movie “Spring Breakers,” but sometimes shit happens.

However, not everyone experiences Spring Break — or is still eligible to experience it — but don’t worry, we’ve got you covered. Some local college students shared their wildest stories so we can live vicariously through them. They’re insane. They’re offensive. They’re shameful. They’re so good you can almost feel the sunburn and alcohol poisoning.

Spring Breaker No. 1

College: The University of Scranton

Destination: Punta Cana, Dominican Republic

Moral of the story: Never get a Henna tattoo in a foreign country

“Last year, some friends and I all went to the Dominican Republic for Spring Break. We were hanging with a group of guys we met at our resort and one thing leads to another and I started arm-wrestling this kid, wasted. Literally, a kid. He was in high school on his Spring Break. I guess you can say I won, because I broke his arm. Snapped it right in half. The room went completely silent when everybody heard the snap. The snap of his arm sounded like the snap of the wooden table we were arm wrestling on.

I felt so guilty.

The kid’s mother was there since he was in high school. Instead of comforting her son, she was comforting me because I was so drunk and upset and crying. He had to fly to Florida the next day to get surgery.

His name was Bobby. So, the next day, after he flew to the states for surgery, I got a Henna tattoo of his name down my ribs, as a sign of respect. Obviously. When I first saw his friends the next day, I thought they were going to jump me, but instead they all gave me high-fives and told me they thought it was awesome what happened. We all got the Henna tattoos together.

It ended up that it was some kind of fucked up Henna ink and infected my skin.

It’s still there today. A part of Bobby will be with me forever.

Not that a Henna tattoo is really in style anywhere in the world, but if you’re going to get one, make sure it’s in America.”

Spring Breaker No. 2

College: The University of Scranton

Destination: Panama City Beach, Florida

Moral of the story: When in trouble, pretend you’re in law school

“It was Spring Break 2013, and my house-mates and I went to Panama City Beach, Florida. Our last night there, we went to this bar called Harpoon Harry’s. It was packed. When we went to leave, I went out the wrong way. I tried climbing over picnic tables, which should have been a sign, but I frankly didn’t care, so I continued to try and go that way until a bouncer yelled at me and directed us towards the real exit. I gave the bouncer — who was this big, tough woman — a double set of middle-fingers and called her a dyke. I don’t know what got in to me, because I never even use that word and I’m not homophobic at all.

I exited the bar with my house-mates and we were standing around talking about what to do next, when someone grabbed my arm from behind. Being in a Spring Break town, drunk and a girl, my first instinct was to jerk my arm forward.

Big mistake.

All of a sudden, I was being put in handcuffs by a cop who looked like he just graduated high school. One of those young, tall skinny guys who have no body hair but really big dicks. My house-mates were even laughing the entire time because they thought it was a joke — mainly because the skinny little cop took so long to handcuff me like it was his first day on the job.

When I was finally placed in the handcuffs, I was informed I was being arrested for resisting arrest when I moved my arm forward when the cop grabbed me for calling the bouncer a dyke.

The cop led me to the cop car, patted me down, checked my ID and made me sit in the car. I realized, ‘I could be going to jail. I called someone a dyke. I’m going to be on the news for a hate crime. My mom is going to hate me.’

While I was in the car, one of my house-mates told the cop that I was going to law school and not to ruin my life — and it worked. He let me out of the cop car, uncuffed me and asked me if I learned my lesson. I said, ‘sure’ and sprinted into Hooters. I have no intentions of ever being a lawyer.”

Spring Breaker No. 3

College: Bloomsburg University of Pennsylvania

Destination: Cancun, Mexico

Moral of the story: Don’t get locked out of your room

“Hands down, the best part about going away for Spring Break is hot guys. All the hottest guys from all over the country go on Spring Break.

Last year, some of my friends and I went to Cancun for Spring Break. We were at this pool party and this guy was staring me down the entire time. He wouldn’t take his eyes off me.

He wasn’t bad looking on the eyes or anything, but he was ‘Pennsylvania hot,’ not ‘Spring Break hot.’

So come like 4 o’clock in the morning, I’m stumbling back to my room by myself — drunk — and the door is locked. I didn’t have my room key and my friends were passed out and couldn’t hear me knock. I look over, and who do I see? The creepy guy from the pool party. Apparently his room was on the same floor as me and he was getting ice.

I went back to his room with him so I could have a place to sleep. We ended up hooking up. The sex was good, too.

So after we hooked up, I’m laying in his arms, and he goes, ‘Yeah, so, this is the part where I’m going to sound like a dick.’

I was like, ‘This dude better not kick me out. I only had sex with him so I didn’t have to sleep in the hallway. Now he’s going to kick me out?’

But that’s not what he said. He said, ‘You’re really pretty. You have a great face, but if you lost like 10 or 15 pounds, you’d be really hot. Just a few pounds.’

I couldn’t believe he said that to me, especially since I didn’t even want to hook up with him in the first place.

I would have slapped him across the face and walked out, but I didn’t want to sleep in the hallway. I figured I was already in a bed, I might as well put up with it.

When I finally got let back in my room, I made sure to get an extra copy of the room key made. I didn’t see him for the rest of the break. I hope he has chlamydia now.”

Spring Breaker No. 4

College: Wilkes University

Destination: Cancun, Mexico

Moral of the story: On Spring Break, you can be whoever you want to be

“Two years ago, a bunch of my teammates and I went to Cancun for Spring Break because we were allowed to drink there without being 21 yet, and most of us were still under age.

I met this girl at a party named Savannah. She said she was from London. Her accent was really hot.

We hung out, partied, went snorkeling together and did our thing.

Then, last summer, I was at my cousin’s wedding. Who is one of the bridesmaids? Savannah.

Only her name isn’t really Savannah. Her name is Julie. And she isn’t from London. She’s from Jersey.

I was like, ‘Why would this girl lie?’ I still would have had sex with her with her Jersey accent.

She said she was just having fun on Spring Break and didn’t think she would ever see me again, so she came up with an alter-ego. I guess on Spring Break, you can be whoever you want to be.”