It's a Shore Thing
Honestly, it’s like there is a ticking time bomb in everyone’s head that starts early on Monday morning and slowly builds up its anticipation until 5 o’clock on Friday evening when it explodes into the hearts and souls of Delco’s finest. This is the time when reality kicks in and everyone really takes a second to acknowledge that the last four days, which were primarily spent complaining about a job with no significant purpose, can now take a back seat to a three day drinking binge where responsibilities and high strung bosses are non-existent. Hell yeah!
So the packing begins. The men get out two cut-off t shirts (because we all know that it’s not the shore if the boys don’t have their all-too-familiar “suns out guns out” mentality), a pair of swimming trunks, and if the girls are lucky two pairs of clean boxers. The ladies pull together their finest sequence tops, victoria secret bikini, and a can of hair spray. Cars are packed tight with bodies, adrenaline, and road sodas while everyone posts their most awe-inspiring social networking update as they head down the AC Express Way --of coarse the updates continue throughout the entire dam weekend. #shotgunningbeers #imsodrunk #mygirlfriendsucks
Boom. Sunday sneaks up on us all and it seems as if the weekend is over as quick as it began. Some may say it’s magical; others may reassure themselves that time just happens to work differently in sea isle. However we all really know it just happens to be a direct result of the fact that Friday and Saturday are consumed by the three enchanted indulgences: case purchasing, keg tapping, and bar hopping. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how lucky you are, this type of behavior allows one to be attentive and oriented for about 12 hours total in an approximate 40 hour time frame.
This threesome, among others, is the pure catalyst of the essential madness that flourishes through the streets of sea isle on your average weekend. You can expect cell phones to be broken, beds to be a fought over commodity, nudity to be honorable, brain cells to be captivated, condoms to be recycled, and people to be depleted. Then the Sunday anxiety demons strike, exhausting our minds and sending endless stress signals into our heads, which are clearly dramatized by the chemical disparity still occurring in our bodies as a result of the last two days; yet by Thursday we are all itching to do it over again. Ironic?
-Queen Zip