I was going through some old pics recently and found some gems. When I graduated HS, I went with a locust-like Midwestern white trash group for my “senior trip” – Myrtle Beach. In 1997, me and six 18 year old degenerates drove 9 hours south for 10 days sans parents with 10 30 packs and a lot of spunk. We stayed at the Carousel Motel, owned by some Swedes with a three legged dog named Ludwig. I’m not making this up – 10 nights for two rooms connected by a kitchen. $190 total. They might as well have had an atomic bomb go off…
First off, I’ll recap the destruction. Binky ripped the phone cord out of the wall. Honk kicked the door frame out. Hoss broke the mirror. Seth puked on the floor and tore down the shower rod, which lid to the faucet being blown off the wall. Some guys from Cbus tossed a full beer through our picture window in the dining area. (We took it out on their car after that injustice). We lost our $200 deposit. Why? My buddy called me a name after a drunken round of Bugs Bunny vs. Elmer Fudd and I snapped, kicking a dent in the mini fridge. Lars was upset. Sorry pal, give my regards to Ludwig.
In recap, I went to Myrtle Beach a 185 lb. HS athlete. After 10 days, I was smoking a pack a day, put on 20 lbs., and raised my beer tolerance from 10 beers to 17. I screamed at a drug dealer that was sharing VCR head cleaner (for sniffing), had a beer bong contest against 12 people, puked in the suicide lane off 16 south, and ate a pack of powered pack of Easy Mac cheese for a meal when I ran out of money. This explains my quote from college that got me elected “Most Likely to be Seen at a Party” – “Are we getting drunk…or are we getting FUCKED UP?!” (Applause and cheers).