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Guys Being Dudes: Day Drinking

Guys Being Dudes: Day Drinking

He sat on the balcony of his apartment, bare feet propped up on the railing. The sun was shining brightly, glaring down on his white legs that hadn’t seen the sun since his family’s trip to the Bahamas over Christmas. Wearing nothing but a pair of baby blue Patagonia baggies and aviators, he took a swig out of the sweating glass to his left. He internally chastised himself for not using enough vodka in this round of Bloodies, but vowed to fix the problem next time.

It was Saturday morning, and he was waiting for the guys to start rolling in for the day-drinking session they had planned to celebrate Kyle’s breaking up with his girlfriend. They had all spent the prior evening smoking Cubans and drinking too many Bulleit Old Fashioned’s at the cigar lounge downtown, but hitting the sauce again this morning would fix any ailments that had decided to hang around. He slid open the balcony door, and made his way back into the kitchen to make another drink. He added more ice to his glass, and tipped a handle of Tito’s over the rim. He heard a crackle of the ice as it floated to the top of what had to be three shots of vodka. He shrugged to himself and dumped Zing-Zang Bloody Mary mix on top of the liquor.

Today, he was going to start the ball rolling on what the crew was going to do for spring break. He flicked through his own Instagram page, wondering what it must look like to strangers who did the same. He lingered over the photos from Christmas break, recalling his days spent on the beach, crushing top-shelf margaritas on the rocks and charging shots of Don Julio 1942 to the room that was attached to his dad’s credit card.

He heard voices coming down the hallway, recognizing Logan’s idiotic laugh. “Let us in, mother fucker!” Logan yelled, as they all pounded on the door. He laughed to himself and walked down the hallway to let them in.

Within five minutes of the guys arriving, they had shotgunned a Miller Lite on the patio and were burning down their first cigs of the day. They stood on the balcony, now littered in cans and cigarette butts, giving Kyle shit about his ex-girlfriend.

“Seriously, dude. It took you long enough. Chick was a wet blanket,” Forrest quipped.

“Yeah, bro, I was gonna have to bone her pretty soon to get you guys to break up,” chuckled Logan. Kyle pushed him in the chest, laughing.

“Shut up, you asshole. You dated that weird-ass hippie chick for long enough,” Kyle retorted.

“Uhhh yeah, ‘cause I could blow trees for free anytime I wanted. Better luck next time.” Logan replied. They all laughed, and headed back inside to grab their second rounds.

He pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead as he leaned into the fridge to grab more beers. “Yeah, so, are we going back to Daytona for spring break this year?” he said to no one in particular.

“Daytona?” Kyle said sarcastically. “Is it so you can run into that bartender chick at the beach again? She had a kid, remember?”

He squinted his eyes and gave Kyle the bird as he closed the fridge behind him. “No, you asshole. I’m serious. Where are we going?”

“I don’t know dude, somewhere with hot women and loose morals,” Forrest said with a wolfish smirk.

“Maybe some illicit drugs,” added Logan.

He slammed his can of Miller Lite on the kitchen island, flinging foam and beer everywhere.

“I know where we’re going,” he said solemnly.

They exchanged confused looks as he stared intensely at his group of best friends crowded around the island.

“You boys like MEX-I-CO?!”

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Taylor

Texas native and Alabama grad with a Drake problem. Going to law school, but don't tell my future employers you saw me here.

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