JewMitch

Just a Jew. Named Mitch. Writing about his feelings.

Fire Island Weekend

Posted by JewMitch on June 4, 2010

Last weekend, my roommate and I decided to go to Fire Island, which is a small beach island in Long Island, about two hours north of Manhattan. You can only get there by Ferry, and the island is filled with beach houses that you can rent a share in (meaning you can rent only half of a bedroom in the house for 1 or multiple weekends). The island is really unique in that there are almost no cars; so people ride bikes everywhere and wheel their bags/groceries around in red Radio Flyer wagons. We lucked out and got a house that was right on the beach, and we roomed with a bunch of UPenn frat guys (in their mid twenties now) who were pretty awesome. One of them insisted on being called “Business.”

To run through some of the highlights:

  • Playing beer pong and bbq’ing from our deck, while overlooking the ocean.
  • Meeting girls, simply by letting them use the bathroom.
  • Actually “hollering” at girls walking by from our deck.
  • My roommate (who is British) sitting in the direct sun all day on Saturday without sunblock, and getting so sunburned that he didn’t leave the house at all Sunday or Monday, and then missed work on Tuesday and Wednesday because it was so bad. He also was wearing manpris on Saturday – so he sustained a permanent manpri tan (on the area above his ankles up to his mid shin).
  • A lot of Bros Icing Bros; including going out to fancy lobster dinner, then just after we finished, one guy pre-apologized – and then dropped a six pack of Smirnoff Blueberry Lemonade on the table – icing all of us. Then we iced our waiter.
  • Playing Ultimate Wingman – where I would help my friends try to meet girls using the worst pick up lines imaginable, such as: “Do you girls like strangers?”, “Hey, have you met my friend Scotty, he works for BP”, and “Are you girls looking for casual hook-ups or more serious relationships?”
  • Constantly texting each other “The McRib is Back!!!
  • Excessive use of the phrases “crymax” and “masterdate.”
  • Talking about trying to impregnate the daughter of the President of Citibank (who was staying in the house next to us), by finishing inside and afterwards bringing her knees up to her chest, keeping them there, and saying “This is how I cuddle.”
  • Teaching one of the UPenn guys that if you accidental light a Marlboro Red backwards, the workaround is to break off the filter and smoke it filterless.
  • Explaining to another UPenn guy what a DTR talk was, and that he had just unwillingly participated in one.
  • Creating awkward sexual tension after anyone did any sort of action (like taking up a sip of a beer) by looking at them and saying, “Slower.”
  • The guy in the next room bringing a girl home, then the next morning when they woke me up, I plugged in my iPod speakers and blasted Boyz To Men’s “I’ll Make Love To You” through the paper-thin wall.

All in all, a pretty successful weekend.

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