Normally I'd say, at my age, having an experience feeling like I was 17 again would be a great thing. Heck, who wouldn't want to feel young again? But the version of 17 I got this past weekend was more like the insecure, passively stupid and socially awkward Hojo's fountain boy, tagging along with the kitchen and waitstaff losers, drinking and smoking their life away like it's their only way they can think of doing early adulting.
Like an extended choir practice back in the day, last Sunday was a waste of time, a reminder of my loneliness and a reluctant walk on the wild side. But at least now, escapades like these aren't going to fuck up my life just as I'm starting out. That damage has been done a long time ago so I don't think it can get much worse at this point.
Though he is certainly middle aged and should, based on his career, residence and income be middle class, whenever Ric gets together with his buddies Joe and Company, he relives a past version of himself when he was decidedly down and out and certainly footloose and fancy free regarding recreational boozing and drugging. His crack whore days (circa the 1980s and early 90s?) or maybe, like me, he too grew up in a rough and tumble environment during his teen years. He implies, when asked about it, that his younger years were very Leave it to Beaver hangin' with his upper middle class high school friends and, in his college years, his yuppie frat bros. But I think those years weren't as fluffy as he makes them out to be. His best bud Scott whom he still has ties to stems from those years and I've met him several times, he's no trust fund silver-spooner. To fit him in with the afore mentioned metaphor, he was at best a ramshackle Eddie Haskell with a likely rougher, more edgy charisma.
So when Ric tells me late last week that he planned to go to Crystal River with the Joe-ster, I knew, like the Cocoa Beach experience it'd be trippy and, heck, my life is boring so I figured...what the heck. I booked myself a room at the same hotel they were staying (albiet I paid a lot less since I hunted around online for the absolute best rate) and through cation to the wind. As long as I did make the really stupid mistake of driving anytime after we started our partying, I was up for almost anything.
And disjointed partying with hapless near-do-well millennials having no goals and obtaining just that...nothing accomplished...is what I got. Crystal River is a low key resort town on the Gulf side of Florida just north of Tampa, known for airboat swamp tours, nature hikes, crystal clear natural springs and kayaking among the manatees. Did we do any of that? Nope. We just drank and ate at tourist trap restaurants and bars, laid out at a tiny, New England-esque beach and passed around cheap Coco Nut bottles of rum and even cheaper tiny pinches of skanky "weed."
Highlights? Lost my contacts 'cause they got squeezed out of my eyes while I was puking up the bad fish tacos from our first bar. Melted in the 97 degree heat on the poorly ventilated tiki bar of the same place. Had to wait 'till 3:00 to check in probably 'cause I was on the cheap third-party booking site rate. Instead of kayaking like I thought we'd do, had to endure a very drunk and obnoxious Ric (he was okay to me but I think he pissed of some of Joe's friends) sitting on a gritty hot beach getting sand all over me, breathing the clean-looking, yet no doubt toxic air from the notorious Crystal River Power Plant very nearby. Enduring the vapid and airhead interests of Joe's sisters Raven and Althea, the later from Italy, and Raven's fuck boi...we'll call him Scruffy since I forgot his name. Oh, and their selfies! They gotta snap them selfies, yo! Oh, later as the girls were brought back to Joe's house in Inverness, Ric and I made our way to two other places for shrimp scampi dinner at one and beer and wings at another. The later had live music and, surprisingly, some guy gave us a huge tin of jello shots!
In the late morning, we checked out and made our way to a Huddle House in Inverness but it was packed so Joe and Scruffy, now joined by Althea decided to make their way to another place. After our breakfast Ric and I drove off to our homes (me: a three hour drive) and Ric likely spent the rest of the day in bed nursing his hangover. Mine wasn't too bad but I did get in a little nap once back home. But not before stopping at my local ABC to get one of those cheap rum Coco Loco bottles and a twelve of Yeungling.
What! It was a holiday weekend and I wanted to keep the teenager experience going a little while longer!