Spring Break '09

J and I took a vacation for Spring Break last year with my MIL, the one who likes younger men. We all went to Myrtle Beach, FL and it was the Worst. Vacation. Ever. Jordan got roofied. We stayed at a gorgeous spa and resort that was tucked away from all the Spring Break mayhem. Little did I know, we’d travel over to Myrtle Beach so we wouldn’t miss anything. Just in case you didn’t already guess, this was not a good choice.

Roofie day didn’t even start out okay...it was one shit storm after the next. Cougar MIL decided that we (including my red head, pasty, doesn’t tan ass) would sun bathe over at the Lani Kai. If you’re not from that area, it’s this sort of run down hotel with cheap rates and you guessed it, poor college kids lookin’ for a good time and ending up with an STD. This kind of place is apparently right up Cougar MIL’s alley.

Oh didn’t I mention that I wasn’t 21 yet and couldn’t drink? I mean, I would pull the ole bottle of rum from my purse and add it to my “virgin” cocktails but it was pretty clear from all the drinking Cougster and Hubster were doing that I should probably stay sober.

Our adventures at the Lani Kai started with the Cougar getting hit on by younger guys while my stretch mark free body lay next to hers. She got invited to a party that night too, at a 20 something’s house. My thought is that it’s Spring Break and some stranger invites you back to his house? That’s an episode of Dateline waiting to happen, but apparently, she was goin’. While I’m being told what a downer I am, Hubster is off at the bar…gettin’ roofied.

Cougster decides beach volleyball is her next move and of course, my 40 something ass in a 20 year old’s body is being dragged to the court. It wasn’t all bad since I’m a pretty wicked v-ball player and the fact that my MIL was not. I will never forget her going in for a save and totally eating sand. It was hilarious and I almost pooped. But across the beach I see my own Spring Breaker lying on the beach in the downward facing dog position so the Cougar Pam-Anderson-circa-Baywatch’s it over to him. She says he’s fine. The next time I look over, he’s blowing chunks all over the beach. Of course I run over to see what the eff the problem is and he just keeps puking like one of the kids from Jersey Shore. Some security guard helps me get him up and I put him in the car and try to explain that play time is over to the Cougar. It did not go well but somehow we made it back to our five star resort where I try to get J out of the car but instead he dives into the sidewalk, ass crack out, and pukes some more. Did I mention that there was some sort of business workshop there and it was break? After literally screaming at the Cougar in front of the business people to go park the car, she finally does. Thankfully, I see our island cabbie, Kenny and he’s willing to help me get J up to our room…after this look.

So we manage to get J on a luggage cart and wheel him up the wheel chair ramp in front of a ton of people (when the fuck is break over?!). At least Kenny had the decency to throw a towel over my guy’s still showing crack, at that point, I didn’t care. Kenny didn’t want to face the even grander embarrassment of wheeling him through the lobby where society’s elite were gathering before heading to watch polo or eat cucumber sandwiches or some shit, so he bolted. The bell hop pushed Jordan back to our room after an uncomfy elevator ride but we ran into a problem since J’s head was hanging over the edge of the luggage cart. I told him just to try to push it anyway, he’d be fine but the kid took pity and told him to get into the fetal position and we got him into the room.

Now that we were back to the privacy of our room it was time to get his clothes off. This wasn’t as sexy as it sounds. He kept mumbling about some guy wanting to see him naked and why did I keep moving around so fast? Then he started crying…because I was being mean to him. After 10 minutes of convincing him that I wasn’t being mean he crawled in the shower and I bathed him. Once he was clean and had clothes that didn’t have his lunch on them, I got him into bed and tried to get the scoop. He said some fat man was in the bathroom asking him about his watch and his mom and I and then followed him back to the bar where my idiot husband pulls out one of the many hundreds he’s carrying to pay for his drinks. Stupid. He probably didn’t want to see him naked, I would venture to guess Fat Man wanted to see how the flat screen he could buy with all that money would look in his apartment.

You’re probably wondering where the Coug is, so was I. She came back over an hour later, after “parking the car” and asked how Jordan was, told me that I could order room service for the two of us and went down to the bar for dinner, leaving me to babysit. She thought about going to the party she got invited to, but only if he would come pick her up. While she tried to get ahold of Beach Guy I was busy feeding J dinner, like a toddler all while he talked about the most ridiculous shit I have ever heard in my life. Then he was out.

The best part? The next day when I wanted to go to the Fleamaster’s Fleamarket (Holla!), Jordan wanted to take a back exit since he was so embarrassed about what I told him about the previous day’s events. You better believe I made him walk through that damn lobby and face the music.

I won’t make you sit through this Cougster story, but before this disaster vacation was over she managed to get herself kicked off our return flight by the pilot himself. I’ll let you guess why.

Please tell me shit like this happens to you too.