Well, I’m still alive after break, everybody. What was originally planning to be a quiet week spent with my grandparents in Florida devolved into an alcohol-fueled adventure in Miami with a few of my friends from school. Also, for those of you who don’t know me personally, I have a broken leg. Needless to say, it was an interesting time and I learned a few things. Now, I know everyone has their stories from spring break, probably some that are better than mine. But why is that? I’ll tell you why: because there was a good chance you were somewhere warm and that you just didn’t care. When you’re surrounded by people that you don’t know and will probably never see again, you’re more prone to do things that you wouldn’t normally do in Hamilton. It’s pretty awesome to say the least, but equally as risky. So let’s say some of that Will Hazzard wisdom from the spring break experience.

First, there were the strippers. Yeah, I went to a strip club. Madonna’s specifically. It wasn’t as bad as I expected. My last experience with strippers wasn’t exactly pleasant. I was burned both literally and figuratively, but that’s a story for a different time. Anyway, it was pretty awesome. There’s something really special about being in a strip club as a cripple. Maybe this is just my naïveté talking, but everyone seemed especially nice to me. One stripper who went by the name of Harmony even asked to sign my cast. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so proud in my life. I also learned that strippers will do a lot for a few bucks, but I don’t think this is new information to anyone. I saw one girl pull a dollar out of my friend’s mouth using only her breasts. It was pretty cool and a nice little move to know. Another guy even decided it would be a good idea to partake in the happy ending some of the ladies offered. This sounds pretty cool until you learn how much it costs. So not worth it. Besides, you don’t really have to go too far to find sex in Miami.

You know, I never really believed that South Beach was topless. I mean, my mom had told me once when I was a kid, but the thought of topless women just lounging on the beach always eluded me. I say no more. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, and it was about as cool as I would have imagined. They were also French, which definitely added to the allure a little bit. But what is a young man to do on a beach, unable to move and surrounded by gorgeous, scandalously clad women? Well, I could talk to them and get them to chill with me, which I did at one point. People show a lot of sympathy for a guy on crutches at the beach. But that gets boring after a while. Again, I’m in a place surrounded by people I will never see again, so I’m bound to do something kind of obnoxious. I think the highlight of that day was the bikini draft, which is just everyone taking turns picking the hottest women on the beach and compiling a team. Sure, it doesn’t really serve any purpose, but it’s a good way to pass time. Then again, nothing I did in Miami really served some greater purpose, except for a little more street smarts and some pretty sweet stories.