My Epic Spring Break
What’s up, partygoers (and losers)!? If you’re anything like me, spring break is all about three things: gettin’ schwifty, makin’ memories and a third thing! If you had a good spring break, that’s awesome, but I don’t wanna hear about it because it’s time for me to talk about my spring break, which was definitely better than yours. I took a trip down to Miami, Florida, where I spent the week living at Sandy Oaks Senior Living Community because I forgot to book an Airbnb.
My week got off to a pretty wild start. When I woke up on the first day, my 92-year old roommate, Gary, played a prank on me where he pretended he was dead. He held his breath for like 20 minutes, but when I stuck a beer bong down his throat and dumped a natty in it, he suddenly woke up, gasping for air. Natty Lite? More like Natty Life! Epic prank Gary.
After that, the nurses moved me out of Gary’s room, probably because the other residents were jealous of our bond, and into a room with Herman. At first, I was a bit intimidated by Herman, since he fought in World War II, and I’m 40% German. To combat this fear, I talked in a Super Mario voice whenever I was with Herman to convince him that I was Italian, which seemed to work. It’s a me, Party-o! Once I oiled up Herman with three layers of SPF-100, it was time to hit the beach!
Going into beach day, I thought that Herman would be the ultimate wingman. Unfortunately, he ditched me to meet up with Gertrude, who he’s apparently had a “will they, won’t they” thing with ever since they met at his wife’s funeral. This left me on my own on the beaches of Miami. I didn’t have any booze after it was stolen by Walter and his posse, the bullies of Sandy Oaks. Luckily, Herman loaned me one of his adult diapers, so I didn’t have to go into the ocean to use the bathroom. I wandered aimlessly about the beach, but before I knew it, it was 4 p.m., which is when dinner is served at Sandy Oaks.
During dinner, I tried to get a group shotgun going, but it went a bit south when Nancy cut her finger on the can and her anemia made a mess. The nurses seemed pretty mad at Nancy’s pathetic shotgunning performance, but it was all good in my book, we had the whole week to get it right. Shotty with the boys!
Walter and his posse stole my dinner, kind of a bummer.
That night I got booted from my room because Herman had Gertrude over, so I tried to sneak back into my old room with my boy Gary, but he started screaming when he saw me. A nurse ran in and told me that I was “down to my last strike,” which is apparently a reference to baseball, a sport that old people like. I was able to sneak into an empty bed and get a good night’s rest.
When I woke up the next morning, my new, mystery roommate was gone. When I went to wash my face, I looked in the mirror and saw a fake mustache drawn on my face. This atrocity could only be the work of one man: Walter! In a fit of rage, I used a lighter to burn the pictures of Walter’s grandchildren. You want to make me look like a fool? I’ll burn your memories, geezer!
Right after I finished my tirade, I remembered that I drew the mustache on myself to enhance the facade that I was Super Mario. Whoopsie! Guess I had one too many old fashioneds last night.
Turns out I wasn’t even in Walter’s room, it was actually Gertrude’s, which I should’ve realized since she was in some of the pictures. I felt kind of bad, so I did my best to replace the photos with drawings I made of her grandchildren and hoped she wouldn’t notice.
Later that day, in the middle of an electrifying game of Bingo, one of the nurses came and told me that I was kicked out of Sandy Oaks for replacing Gertrude’s grandchildren with “drawings of tomatoes.” It’s not my fault I couldn’t find a peach colored crayon! I tried to deny that the drawings were mine, but the nurse reminded me that I signed my artwork.
As I was being escorted out, Walter tripped me with his cane. I thought about fighting back, but I decided to be the bigger man. Good for me!
Even though my time at Sandy Oaks was short, I made memories that will last a lifetime, and friends that will last the next 1-10 years. I still call Gary every day! Maybe one of these days he’ll answer.