Every class has a group of high school boys, smart on appearance, yet idiosyncratically trashy within. I set off to a last-minute Key West high school reunion trip with 4 of my classmates – 4 boys that filled the road with rubbish talks, chitchats of sexy women and sexual organs, and some fragmentary flash of wisdom.
The evening of Christmas, Wesley declared in sheer excitement that we needed to go clubbing and spending the Christmas eve in ultra violence. Before that, he took a nap. When 9pm came, he never woke up for the ultra.
Group decision is the worst. We had 4.5 days in Florida for Christmas, but we spent most of the time making decisions or sleeping or looking for a place to eat. 3.5 days passed and the productivity of the group remained at the uncharismatic zero. George was alerted and decided to rent a car so we could all rush to Key West and visit a tower in Key West. On the road, I made a trick with Jimmy — Slam Cam of course.
Fortunately, at Key West, we managed to do one thing after 4 days, which is the waterski. Before water splashed on our faces and before we experienced the thrill of playing Fast and Furious, we colluded to take a waterski exam.
If there is one last thing we did, it was the sunshine as splendid as it is. Never took good photos, I managed to snap a non-blurry photo with Wesley, the famous man that never woke up for ultra.
The trip ended with extreme exhaustion. Wesley finally went to the ultra after three days of schmoozing us. He did not want to go, but for the promise of manhood, he took Leslie with him and had a night of bros while everyone else dropped dead in their beds. The other morning we asked the duo how was night, did they meet any hot sexy bombs? They said, “No bombs, only middle-age men drinking beers on the table side.”
I guess that concluded our 4.5 rubbish days, wasted in something we had no idea of what.