A Wild Miami Spring Break, As Illustrated By The Many Faces Of Cuba Gooding Jr.
Spring break is upon us at last. Pat yourselves on the back, kids, because you deserve it. This has been a hard, hard semester, and who understands that better than Cuba Gooding Jr.? He understands struggle. He knows pain. And most importantly, he knows what it takes to throw an epic rager after the fact. This week, after dancing on stage and nearly eating someone’s cell phone, Gooding Jr. proved that he is the spirit animal of a bangin’ Miami Spring Break. Which is why we’ve decided to summarize the entirety of your upcoming break using images of his glorious face.
STAGE 1: Last Minute Planning
You’ve been planning this trip for five months now. The only thing that has kept you sane this midterm season has been the loving feel of a marker in your hand as you crossed out the days in your calendar, counting down the moments ’til your three am Friday flight finally takes off. Because you are kinda losing it, y’know? Two midterms in the same day and a three-part project will do that to you. Being cooped up all day with nothing but your Orgo book and a stale pack of Oreos will do that to you.
And this is that strange, strange time when everything has just been turned in. The feel of having nothing at all to do—no more coffee to drink, no more Adderall to take, no more notes or study groups or group projects left—is almost worse than the pre-exam chaos. Because all that freedom messes with you a little. You’re like a starved man being reintroduced to food via all-you-can-eat Korean barbecue. Doing so little living these past few months has you seeking revenge—on whom or what, you aren’t quite sure, but you know that during this trip, this sweet, sweet Miami adventure, you will do ten times the living to show that nothing can break you. Your list of “Spring Break Planzzz” suddenly includes snorkeling, amateur stripping, and simply “coke.” Your friends think you’re joking. You aren’t.
But it’s in planning these last minute flights of fancy that you suddenly realize exactly how short on cash you are. Coffee, Adderall, and the three-day cleanse to break the addiction to said coffee and Adderall costs money. Even as your soul screams for whole bottles of Malibu and thong bikini contests, you FaceTime Mom and Dad looking like this.
See that? That’s the face of someone who isn’t about to see their friend die in a terrible combination of environment and youth angst. This trip is gonna be totally PG13.
STAGE 2: The Take Off and Arrival
At midnight, you are ushering the cattle, aka your friends, out of bed, and into the totally not sketchy Uber waiting for you downstairs. They complain over text that this Uber is, in fact, Totally Sketchy (™) and that you guys should throw open the doors and roll out at the next stop. This complaining continues into the airport, where they moan about checking their bags and having to toss their McDonald’s behind. The brownest person in your group is “randomly selected” for a full-body pat-down, and as you shuffle your way to the gates they begin to grumble on and on about things like “discrimination” and “rights” and being “a human fucking being, what the fuck.” Your friends nod their heads in agreement and Snapchat the offending TSA officers.
You process all of these things slowly, with a sense of distance—as if you’re watching the movie of yourself, dealing with airport security. Nothing really affects you because you know in the deepest, darkest corner of your mind that, right now, you are scarier than any dank smelling Uber driver and the cousin he brought with him, any TSA agent and all their endless back up. Every cell in your being is focused on Miami, and there’s no room for anything else.
No, it’s not until you guys arrive, four hours and several bottles of flight wine later, that you turn around and give your friend one of these looks when she opens her mouth to complain about the heat:
You don’t want to destroy anyone, that’s not who you are…
…back when you were at school, anyway. But now you’re out here in the wilds of Florida. Anything could happen.
STAGE 3: Day
A quick nap sees the life return to your eyes. Where before you were ready to cut down any and everyone who wasn’t having a good enough time, now you’re suddenly totally at ease. Maybe it’s the nice people in the room next to you with the awesome energy who offered to buy you guys lunch. Maybe it’s all the weed you smoked with them beforehand. Either way, you are a much, much better person at the moment. You apologize to Becky for making her opinion feel unwarranted and, 12 hours after the fact, finally manage to process the bullshit that happened at the airport. Wow, that sucked!
You are flying high and living dirty. You are highing fy and livin thirty. You are high fiving Nick Curry. You are…
You are drunk as hell by 5:30. It’s that exciting sort of drunk where at any moment you could lose it all—your lunch, yesterday’s lunch, the airplane wine, the tequila worm. The fact that you stay standing at all is a miracle that can be attributed to the strength and tenacity you honed studying for your physics exam. Those nice boys from before point out a part club part chicken cafe waving at you in the distance. You love clubs. You love chicken. You make your way through the door.
STAGE 4: Night Time Odyssey//Complications
It’s around this time that that careful combination of weed, tequila, and things snorted off a random waiter’s thigh suddenly begins to take affect. You melt into the scene around you.
You deserve this. You deserve all of this.
STAGE 5: Dr. Jeckyll becomes Mr. Hyde
The next thing you remember is this little display of power right here:
Well, things sure did escalate quickly, huh? But maybe if Becky hadn’t been talking so much shit, someone wouldn’t have had to put her in her place. It’s not like you actually shot anyone, anyway. Really, it was just a little bit of posturing, a little righting-the-world, a little returning things to it’s natural fucking state of being. There is a pecking order after all, and you’re at the top and Becky is at the bottom. Who did she think she was, trying to tell you that your shoes didn’t match your club outfit? After all you’ve done for her?
Still, your friends are pretty freaked out (where did you even find a gun, anyway?). They decide that you need a little bit of “me” time and leave you behind to think about what you’ve done. For a second, you begin to regret everything that’s led you to this moment. When you first started planning this trip so very, very long ago, it was with the idea that this would be a fun bonding experience for you and your friends. Miami was supposed to be about setting sail on the greatest non-sinking ship there is (friendship) and having loads and loads of fun. But have you been having fun? Have you really? Or is it possible that all the stress from the ensuing semester has maybe warped this entire experience for you? Are you even the same person you were five months ago?
No, you aren’t. And it’s time your friends got the fuck over that.
STAGE 6: The Return Trip
The rest of the trip is a sort of blur of, um, unmentionable things, until the exact moment you find yourself boarding the flight back to school. Becky is holding you up by the hood of a stale, puke-stained sweatshirt. Good Becky. Sweet, sweet Becky. You ask her how you got here. She tells you to die. The rest of the party can’t even look you in the eye.
Spring fucking break, am I right?
Images via Farnaz Fever, Starpulse, Movie Boozer, Quizgram, Indiewire, Giphy, and Comedy Central.
Stay tuned to Milk for more spring break shenanigans.