Jenny McCarthy, the boisterous blonde who once weeded out the guys on MTV's "Singled Out" now hosts "Beach Week," an ingenious pre-Spring Break series on the Travel Channel. The hypnotic show promotes technicolor dreams of palm green and aqua blue until reality becomes no more than a hazy memory of a bad night, a misplaced parking ticket - a figment of the imagination.
Was it is just me or did anyone else notice that "The World's Best Beaches" aired 24 hours a day for the past week? Though basking in the glow of cable television is very relaxing, so are those harmful ultraviolet rays, and I'm raring to pack my bags and get out of town.
Whether at the shores of Montego Bay or the Cayman Islands, the expert Spring Breaker bastes and rotates like a carefully browned rotisserie chicken. This ritual of pure idleness is glorified, since after all, Spring Break is the perfect time to have really deep thoughts on shallow topics.
Therefore, I'd first like to delve into the greasy and shady world of SPF protection. With a monstrous array of Coppertone and Bull Frog bottles lining the shelves, choosing the correct sunscreen is a vexing yet crucial task. It's always sad to see that overeager girl who dabs a pea size drop of Baby Face 4 on her nose only to discover by happy hour that her face matches her strawberry daiquiri.
Nor do I recommend the overcautious lather of SPF 75, since it'd be rather discouraging for a guy to return from the tropics looking like he'd drowned his week away in a dark corner of an English pub.
Hawaiian Tropics SPF 15 or 25 is the best bet to achieve the slack, laid-back surfer glow we all so desire.
All right, hold onto your plane ticket, because it's time for a little tropical trivia.
A camkini is ... a) the one duffle bag which keeps rotating around the baggage carousel, b) an old lady who bobs up and down in the ocean, not wanting to get her hair wet (can be used as an insult, as in "Toughen up Buster, don't be such a camkini," c) the secret wave people on passing boats give each other, or d) a bikini that also covers the ribcage and causes disastrous tan lines.
You guessed it! The answer is "d."
Honestly, it took me years to get used to the whole tankini concept, and now this. When will the modesty madness stop?
Fortunately guys have a limited beach apparel selection, and unless they are a platform diver or pro water polo player, a simple pair of trunks will be their only choice.
Continuing on with the theme of mindless frivolity, gambling on poolside bingo is a great way to pass a Spring Break hour and earn a little money on the side. My one and only island bingo experience occurred the afternoon I bet colorful wads of pesos with a pool boy named Kiko who called me Isabella. The peso is an extraordinary monetary unit and since I did not know the conversion factor, I felt like some sort of greased up high roller.
The suave announcer called out to his Vanna White sidekick, "Shake it baby, but don't break it," and she mixed the letter tiles in a burlap sack. I came out ahead and won a whopping 37 pesos(about $4) slightly bitter that since I was only eight, the first prize bottle of rum went to some bronze college stud who came in second place.
It is important to remember however that Spring Break is not all about being a poolside sloth. The raging waves of the turquoise ocean also cater to the most thrill-seeking outdoorsman as he ventures out on a death-defying ride on the inflatable banana boat. Others demonstrate their gymnastic abilities and lack of brain cells, when they see how low they can go under a flaming limbo stick.
My all time favorite activity though is snuba, a quirky combination of snorkeling and scuba diving where the air tanks (connected to an air hose) float on a nearby raft.
Who can resist the dare devil that sports a fogged up mask and emerges out of the water, draped in seaweed, to boast, "I saw seven super sand sharks while snubaing."
Yet last year, while sailing, I witnessed an even more unusual and startling spectacle. Yes, I'm talking about the post-college, thirtysomething, Spring Break crowd.
As I snuggled into the cabin's bed, the sheets a bit gritty since I hadn't had a real shower in a week, I heard that sound in the night that makes every hair follicle stand on end. I've honestly been trying to repress what I saw on a nearby catamaran when I stood up on the mattress and popped my head out of the ceiling hatch. Herds of kindergarten teacher types had turned into ravage animals under the full Tortolla moon grinding and flailing their limbs to "Who Let the Dog's Out." The Baha Men would have wept.
Sadly the next morning, as they motored away, not even the Dramamine could save them.
Hopefully that recount cheered up those who are not heading out of town. Yet, there's always the virtual Spring Break option, which only requires a blender and a bucket full of movies. I suggest "Club Paradise," (an overlooked oldie featuring Robin Williams), "Cocktail," and of course "Weekend at Bernie's" (I and II).
Also, sometimes between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m., the prime tanning hours, the virtual Spring Breaker can cruise on over to the nearest fake n' bake to achieve that ever so popular, sun kissed leather look.
After all, there are only a few times a year when the successful college students are those who guiltlessly revel in the life of the aloof vacationer, and waste away a week.
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