Hola Spring Breakers! I’m your official CollegeHumor Spring Break ’07 Correspondent, kickin’ it here in Cancun, Mexico.
High school Spanish classes are finally paying off for thousands of partiers who are so drunk that they can’t find their dicks, but they still manage to remember how to say, “Donde esta el bano?”
Today was a cultural lesson for me. I snuck in to the Oasis Resort. For those of you who’ve been to Cancun, you probably stayed there and know it as a quaint, quiet, local, off-the-beaten-path vacation getaway. By which I mean: it’s loaded to the brim with college studs and sluts, dodgeball games, bikinis, beer, cleavage, and tans that would make a Jersey girl in the 80s cry with envy. I swear there must have been 10 thousand Spring Breakers staying at this place, and they were all on the beach at once. This is where the magic all goes down, people!
But, for those of you who haven’t indulged in Cancun craziness, I should tell you that the Spring Break mafia are everywhere. Somehow, going through customs at the Mexico City airport with 4 ounces of weed in your carry-on is easier than roofying a drunk, ditzy tri-Del, but trying to get into a Cancun hotel as a non-guest is near impossible. Stern looking Mexicans in official looking hotel garb will stop you dead in your tracks if you don’t have the right bracelet for each Spring Break resort. At the Oasis in particular, there is one of these enforcers at ten different checkpoints. You can’t get in to the lobby, let alone on the cabana-covered beach.
But, my friends, this is not my first, second, or even third Spring Break. And I have learned a thing or two about how to get around “rules.” So, after working my magic, I found myself on the beach at the Oasis, knee deep in Spring Break mayhem.
First off, it wasn’t even noon, and I counted upwards of 23 passed out/possibly dead revelers. I had to stop taking pictures because it became so redundant. But, each had their own forte: covered in sand, next to a guitar, sunburnt, naked, etc. And every 5 minutes, I would inevitably see another random blonde chick with a tan so dark that she could play Eko’s sister on Lost. And, each time, the chick would say to her skanky friend: “Omigod, you guys…pass me the oil. I am sooooo white!”
And, of course, games run rampant in this sub-culture. Here, we see two sophisticated students sharing saliva via an apple. The unwashed and definitely contaminated Mexican produce sample is hanging from a string while 2 idiots are simultaneously trying to shove the fruit down their cake-holes (or, as they are known this week, “dick-holes”).
Seriously? What’s the object of this game? If you “win,” then you have just eaten a dirty apple, which will surely lead you to Montezuma’s revenge. Plus, you’ll find yourself with no buffer between your mouth and the mouth of an equally moronic alcoholic stranger with presumably the first known case of mouth AIDS (let’s call it “MAIDS”). How fun!
But, at least, these a-holes provide entertainment for the rest of us.
I’ve also been hittin’ the clubs down here. Guys, it’s fucking mayhem! I will fill you in more tomorrow. I have to go drink a novelty margarita the size of J-Lo’s ass.