We had a full scoring system from the most minor of hookups to massive orgies.

Spring Break junior year, three of my best friends decided to go to Cancun. Among them was Marty one of the craziest people you’ll ever meet. He’s the life of the party when sober and when he’s drunk, well, you get moments like what he gave us in Cancun that year.

We were all set for spring break, ready to drink margaritas and bang señoritas. Before the trip we agreed to a little bet. We established a scoring system from getting a simple hookup to partaking in massive orgies. Marty and I decided to share a room and team up against our other two friends for the contest. After our two other friends jumped out to a lead the first couple nights, we had a drunken team pep talk during which we concluded that Marty would have to cheat on his girlfriend to bring in more points for the team. Marty is nothing if not a team player!

We were staying at The Oasis, which for all of you who don’t know is the party hotel, complete with swim-up bars and two daily wet-t-shirt contests at 12 P.M and 3 P.M. Anyway, we head out to the swim up bar at a fresh 10 A.M. With our all-inclusive package you could choose how badly you wanted to get fucked up, with no concerns over expense. We started that day off very strong, downing shots of tequila and double fisting. After about two hours of getting lit we found our first catch: four girls from Rhode Island. They were nice girls from what I can remember. (After the trip, when I saw pictures of us with these girls, I was like, “who the fuck are they” after seeing myself arm in arm with these girls.) We had a good day with the girls and they were staying in our hotel so we knew that we were definitely getting some points later on.

As was our daily custom, we went down to the beach for the titty show. It’s funny how at the beginning of the week it’s fun seeing girls take their shirts off, but by the end of the week you’re kinda like ahh you’ve seen one titty, you’ve seen them all. In our bored drunken stupor, we decided to go into the ocean. That was the beginning to the end of me and Marty. All I remember was going out into the ocean, drink in hand and it promptly being washed away by a big wave along with my expensive pair of sunglasses. My dumb drunken ass thought, hey you can have my glasses but I’ll be damned if you’re gonna take my drink too! Several minutes later, I was washed up on shore with my face buried in the sand. Then after looking for my friends for about thirty minutes, I gave up and decided to go back to my hotel room. Well I proceeded to bang on every door down that damn hallway cause I couldn’t find my room. Eventually my two friends open up their room, quite to their shock there I stood. “Where’s Marty?” they asked.

I figured he was busy in our room scoring some points. Well I crawled into one of their beds and took my daily one hour nap. When I awoke, I was in extreme pain – it felt as though someone had shot my toe off. I looked down and saw quite a large hole in my left big toe. Even though I was pissed at Marty for leaving me alone to die in the ocean, I figured I should go check in on him.

I went downstairs to ask the little Mexican guys to open the door to our room. This was quite difficult since he didn’t speak any English. Thankfully, I found myself quite fluent with the Spanish language. How I learned this Spanish was of course a mystery to me but sometimes things just work out, you know? At any rate the guy sends two ladies up with us to open the door. When we opened the door, there was Marty buck naked on his bed with a big smile on his face. So the ladies are obviously taken aback by the site of this 21 year old bare ass naked with his cock hanging out. Then he rolled over toward us and just smiles and says, “ladies would you like to help me score some points?” Freddy just slipped the ladies a $20 and had them leave.

Apparently while I was lost at sea, Marty came back to the room to puke so he stripped himself down (I guess he likes to puke in the buff) and sat in the bathtub and proceeded to puke all over himself and the bath-tub. It looked like a fucking Greek tragedy in there. Well later that night we went out and I couldn’t even dance or walk, so all week I cursed Mexico for not having any Neosporin to heal my foot wound. And after asking everyone all week about whether they had any, on the last day of the trip Marty goes to me, “yo man why don’t you put this Neosporin on your foot?”

Thanks, Marty!