Fire Island Recap: Duck, Duck, Duck, Duck, FUCK
This weekend was too insane for a complete step-by-step recap(since it was 4 days long and I only remember about 12 hours). Also, most of the parties involved would not want their offenses listed because what happens in Fire Island stays in Fire Island. Exceptions to this rule are STD’s and Ticks.
So I have decided to make an anonymous list of things we did and things we witnessed:
One of us broke into a store at 3 am and had sex behind the cash register attempting to use spit as lube (an unsuccessful attempt since spit and latex don’t mix. They are like Katy Perry and strapless bras. Or Katy Perry and integrity.
One of us bought weed cupcakes and passed them out to several more of us without telling us they were weed cupcakes. One of us was already baked and thought the funny taste was all in his head. So he ate more than the others.
One of us barged in on everyone sleeping at 3 am and crawled into bed with a happy couple–drink in hand. The drink spilled. Good thing one of us was hoarding towels in the corner.
One of us fucked the short Puerto Rican (the shorto rican) next door, then avoided him for the rest of the weekend, especially since he was rooming with a guy that resembled Ciara–or Ci-haira in this case. The kid looked like a manorexic spanish matador.
One of us fucked a french guy whose name he couldn’t remember–then went around shouting the name Peter the next day only to find out the next night that his name was Eric (funny because at this point, Eric was going around making out with everyone else)
One of us snuck into the bottom level of some random strange house and had sex on a wooden bench beside a wheelbarrow in the dark.
Two of us got invited onto a yacht owned by an decrepit old man from Staten Island. He provided blueberry smoothies that were probably roofied–he was also on his phone(grindr) computer (adam4adam) and ipad (manhunt) simultaneously. Where he was getting the wifi for this I will never know as my phone was basically no more useful than a calculator after high school. The two that were onboard went downstairs to the bathroom and found an attractive young man so “tired” he couldn’t get out of bed. It was 5 pm. The two literally ran.
Two of us went for a walk on a dock and found some fifteen year old girls that resembled Avril Lavigne in about 6 months when she realizes her only career option is to balloon up to 150 lbs to get on Biggest Loser Celebrity Edition. It seemed so strange (and these two may have eaten some of the cupcakes) that the girls were provided with cups full of vodka. Then they introduced the two to their 15 year old gay friend who weighed less than Mary Kate, and the two realized how sad this actually was since the poor boy was probably going to get eaten alive by some dastardly chicken hawk. So the two fled that scene.
One of us was dancing at 5 am and realized how late it was, turned around, started making out with someone, and left with them.
Two of us witnessed people blowing lines off a soft-cover sci-fi novel.
Four of us managed to sneak bottles of vodka into every water pitcher we were offered the entire weekend. Also just so you know, if you mix lemonade and vodka it resembles a margarita.
Two of us sneaked away at 5 am to go sit by the ocean on a dock and look at the stars. The two didn’t realize it was the “dick dock” and wondered why there were 15 black men lined up behind them.
Fire Island was the perfect blend of exactly what a vacation should be. This perfect blend is equal parts:
Crazy time– out of control fun including things that would never normally happen to you.
Down time–where you really bond with the friends you came with and create amazing new memories.
The perfect vacation requires both kinds of times. For the down time click here.