MDW in NJ vs St.Aug

My senior year of high school was one of the best years of my life filled with going out to lunch with friends, skating, partying, and not much stress about school. Our whole grade pretty much got along. There were clicks but I managed to be friends with all of them. I hung out with everyone not staying in one crew. At the beginning of the year we all decided that all the guys in are graduating class should rent out a place in Seaside Height's New Jersey. Now this was way before the show on MTV "Jersey Shore" was ever on. We were just normal kids living in North New Jersey going down the shore for Memorial Day Weekend.

Throughout the year MDW was heard all over the halls. I went to a school with a bunch a tools. They were my friends but they were for sure tools. Going tanning, getting Brooklyn Fade haircut's, getting their eye brows waxed and going to the gym everyday. A bunch of them took steroid's 3 months before MDW just so they look extra jacked down the shore. They would walk around the halls with gallons of un-distilled water because apparently it makes your veins come out. Chugging protein and No-Explode in the middle of class just so their not wasting any time out of the gym.

Once we got down to Seaside we had this huge condo place rented out with almost all the guys in are grade. There were a couple different rooms with the different clicks. The jocks, the guidos, the stoners, the awkward s, and us. Well hey maybe we were the awkward s but who knows. All I know is every day I would wake up surf from 11:00 to 3:00 come back to the place and our room would be packed with girls and beer. I would take my wetsuit off and funnel a few beers. The jocks and guido's had a bench outside and weights and would be working out the whole time talking about how big they are and flex for the women that walked by. This was one of the best weekends of my life, filled with women, best friends and the beach. We all knew this would be one of the last times we were all going to be together so we cherished it. Still to this day we all talk about how good MDW of 2008 was and how it will never be the same.

Now can you picture anyone acting like this in a town like St. Augustine?

Reggae Sunday Please

I have never heard of "Reggae Sunday" until I came down to Florida. It's pretty self explanatory. Reggae Sunday consists of live loud reggae music, dancing drinks all under the sun. I have only attended this once because usually Sunday is my day of rest and catch up on homework. This past Sunday I went over to the Conch House with some buddies to check out just exactly what this Reggae Sunday was all about. I have been to the Conch House for dinner with my family and didn't know what to expect.

I woke up that sunday and surfed and hung on the beach all day. We went over to the Conch House at around 3:00 in board shorts and tanks. It was $5 to get in and each drink was 8$ and you can top it off with a shot of 151 for free. We all got a drink and stood and talked for a little bit. I walked over to the bathroom where I witnessed a girl peeing in a urinal. It wasn't as weird as I dreamed a girl peeing in a urinal would be. I just kinda said "Hey, what's going on?" and peed beside her. As I was walking on the dock back to meet with my friends I couldn't wipe this stupid smile off my face. Just looking around and seeing everyone so happy and no one caring about what they looked like. Guys with long sun bleached hair and beards scruffy as hell, girls in sun dresses and bikini's with curly beachy hair smelling of coconut how could I not.

I come from a town where mostly everyone has short hair and shaved faces. Guys get their eye brows done and shave their arms. I just felt like I fit in this scene so much more then when I'm at home. No one tells me I need a hair cut and I don't even look at myself before I walk out the door.

The rest of the afternoon I found myself loosing my head, letting the reggae music take my mind.

Let's do an experiment

Why is it that in the past few weeks I have heard multiple people who live in St. Augustine say, “It’s so easy to just get stuck here, it’s like a bubble,” or “This town drives you to drink.” I too have found that living in this beautiful artsy little town, I’m trapped inside a little bubble and nothing besides what is going on in St Augy matters. Well I have lived in this town for over a year now and have definitely felt trapped inside a tiny bubble, driving me to drink. Maybe looking up at the 19 plus bottles of Evan Williams Whiskey lining the kitchen cabinets or maybe that my dad is a recovering alcoholic, I have decided to do a little test. A test that can make me feel super awkward and let me find out if I really need to crave that first drink when I get to the bar in St. Augy. A test that not many college students would even want to attempt. For a week straight I have decided to go out to the bars but only to drink Coke with a lemon on the side. When people come up and ask me what I’m drinking tonight I will respond, “Oh well it’s a rum and Coke of course.”

I have come from a family where my dad was an alcoholic. My mother has always told me that I have the addictive gene in me and that whatever I do I will become addicted to. Well I have found this to be very false. For a month straight, I picked up smoking cigarettes just to try and get my mother to quit. Smoking is the only thing I think my mother and I have ever seriously fought about. I told her, “If you don’t quit smoking mom, then for a month straight I will smoke cigarettes everyday until I get addicted.” She responded to this with “Go ahead, it’s a dirty habit and impossible to quit.” So once I realized this wasn’t helping anything I decided to stop that dirty smelly disgusting habit. There was only one good result of this test; I found I do not have an addictive personality.

Now on to St. Augustine. Oh St. Augy: the Spanish architecture, the beautiful beaches, the hot girls in sun dresses and bikinis with their salty beach hair, the laid back teachers, the bums who wander the streets with not a care in the world besides getting just enough money for the next beer, and the bars. The bars where not one single night there is nothing to do. Monday it’s free drinks at dunes, Tuesday it’s quarter beers at Panama Hattie’s, Wednesday it’s Two Hundred Lounge, Thursday it’s back to Hattie’s for free drinks, Friday it’s No Name bar then roaming the downtown streets of St. Augy, Saturday it’s Local Hero’s and then Sunday it’s Reggae Sunday at the Conch House followed by Sunset Grill. By no means am I saying that I go out every night of the week. But when I do it’s usually the same groups of people, which lead me to wonder if they go out every single night and are we all alcoholics? People here do not just get drunk, they get absolutely smashed and it’s an ongoing thing. Thursday night they get blackout drunk and continue to do the same for the rest of the weekend. I think this is why I end up drinking so much when my buddies and I go out. Everyone is so wasted that if you’re not on their level, its just plain awkward.

My first two nights out with this rubbish experiment I found it actually wasn’t so bad. I didn’t feel awkward at all. I even got flashed by the end of the second night which got me thinking, “Hm, it’s my second night in with this and I’ve already gotten a pair of boobs flung at my face, not bad eh.” Everyone believed I was really just drinking rum and Diet Coke and I just carried on how I normally would usually ending up on the dance floor. Even to my best of friends I wouldn’t let them know that I wasn’t drinking the rum and Diet Coke I normally would. They would say by the end of the night, “Jay your face isn’t red and blotchy, weird.” I found it was actually easier to hold conversations with people and that I am probably more social when I am not drinking. It gave me some confidence because now when I’m at a bar I know that even if I’m not drinking, I will still be having a grand ol’ time. Every morning I would wake up earlier and earlier and feel more refreshed then ever.

It wasn’t until the second to last night of this experiment that one of my friends found out what I was doing. He asked me what I was drinking and I told him rum and Coke. He looked at me funny and said, “You’re not drinking your girly rum and Diet Coke?” All my friends know that if I mix alcohol with a drink that isn’t diet, my face gets super red. So I ended up explaining my little experiment to him and told him I have one more night of this. He got inspired by what I was doing and ended up joining me with a couple Coke’s and a few lemons on the side.

This experiment of which I thought was going to make me feel awkward, has just taught me that you don’t have to go out and get smashed every night at the bars. Hip-hop artist Asher Roth has some lyrics I used to agree with, “Time isn’t wasted when you’re getting wasted.” In the past I would hear this and think, “Hell yea, right on.” Before this experiment I agreed with Asher but now I would rather just have one or two drinks and remember my nights.

Gettin' Stuck in St Aug's

For a while I thought I hated this place, between breaking my foot, my tires getting slashed and rocks being thrown through windows I was really getting sick of this place. Yea, I live 2 houses away from the beach and can see the ocean at my dinner table, but once you live somewhere like this you don't appreciate it. Sometimes I feel like I'm stuck inside my head and can't get out. Skateboarding used to help me with this but I've decided to give it up because I don't want to end up on crutches again. My room-ate might be the most negative person I've ever met. He is substance dependable. Whether it's whiskey, pot, painkillers or adderall he never wants to be sober. I don't get it. We are living right on the beach and he talks about how he can't wait for college to be over. He is from Virginia Beach and I'm from New Jersey. Why is it that he feels he has to be *ucked up all the time. After a night of drinking I love just paddling out into the water and sitting there. Him on the other hand likes pop a couple pills or have another drink. He's a good kid and whenever I'm down he finds a way to talk to me and make me realize where we are. We're in Florida, people would vacation at are house and think it's sick. Now this is where I don't get it. He can get me out of a rut by talking positive to me, but then he will go and say how he is super depressed and can't handle reality. He say's he is either going to be a raging alcoholic when he is older or completely sober. His dad is a preacher which I don't understand how he is so negative but hopefully he takes the path of being sober. I mean come on, college isn't that bad, bars, parties, surfing, sun and a little bit of work sounds like the life to me right?

Is it the just the schools in the south??

I dont know what it is. I used to always feel super stressed out wherever I was. Back in 5th grade one of my teachers gave me a nervous habit of picking underneath my thumb and middle finger nails. This habit would end in summer then I would pick it right back up once the next school year would start. This followed all the way into high school and into college. When I attended University of Rhode Island I think this habit hit it's peak. My thumb nails were almost completely picked off and the numbing cold would be extremely painful. After being in St. Augustine I have found that the picking is at it's minimum. I dot know what it is. Maybe it's the laid back teachers. It's not that their laid back but they will listen to anything you have to say. At URI I would go in and talk to teachers after class and they would act like I wasn't even a person but a number. Yes, some of URI's classes had up to 3oo people in them but even the classes that had just 20 in them the teachers would seem like they didn't care about their students. Here at Flagler I feel as though every single one of my teachers would go a mile for me. If I went in for help with a paper, the teacher would spend as much time as I needed until I felt comfortable. Is this another difference between the south and the north or is it just different schools?

Home Cooked Meal??

Living here on my own right by the beach I find myself eating many cans of tuna and eggs. Nothing to special. Every now and then on a Sunday we'll cook some pasta but thats about it. I got invited to a friends house for a home cooked meal. All I heard was the word steak and shrimp and I said "I"m in."

So I went on over to her house and all I could think about was that juicy salty steak. For an appetizer she brought out some grits. Oh boy do I hate grits. I sucked it up and pretended they were good but once she left the table I spooned it into the nearby garbage. Next she brought out some fried shrimp. This was very good but was a little greasy. Coming from an Italian family I'm not to used to fried foods.

She dumbed something on my plate, I had no idea what it was. I thought it was just a huge chicken nugget. Nope, I was wrong. "It's country fried steak." I have never even heard of this but it was actually very good. I really don't know what it is about the south and frying everything. Maybe it's because its the easy way out or maybe they just like the taste of everything fried.

"EY GIT BAK DER TO JER-Z"

As I look in my mirror and switch lanes on 312 today, a man in an old beat up pick up truck decides to ride my ass. Instead of slamming on my breaks and letting him hit me, I switched into another lane. At the next red light the man pulled up next to me. I just looked over and stared at him noticing his appearance: camo hat, dip in his lip, toothpick hanging from the side of his mouth, oversized haggard beard and long straw-like hair. I knew he wanted to say something so I just kept staring at him. Soon enough he took the tooth pick out of his mouth and said " Eyder git bak to jer-z wit dat kinda drivan". Now I really didn't do anything out of the norm. He was way behind me and as I switched lanes he floored his car and decided to ride me. All I could think about was how he really just saw my New Jersey plates and got pissed off. He was probably just on his way to the store to get some more Natural Ice and a can of dip.

Do people actually care?

What i do notice a lot of down south, is people will start conversations with you anywhere. I mean up north people say hi or hows it going. But here down south people seem like they actually care. After someone asks you hows it going, and you start telling them, they will actually stand there and listen and continue to talk to you.

Sometimes I feel like I'm in the twilight zone a lot of the times. There have been many

times that I find myself having a conversation with someone whether I'm at the grocery store or just grabbing a cup of coffee somewhere.

I can only remember a couple times up north that I have held a conversation with a complete stranger for more then 5 minutes. So if you ask me....people down south really do care.

Sluggish South??

Is the south slow, or is the north just really fast paced? Is it laziness or are people up north just always in a rush for no reason? I told all my friends up north that people down here are so slow. My mother always tells me she's nervous I am going to become more slow from living down here. She always gets mad at me for my "chill" or "relaxed" personality. It's not that I'm slow, for the most part I am "chill" and "relaxed", but I know when to be. Every job I'v ever had I have always gotten promoted. In one month being at a high-end grocery store, I went from scanning veggies to Floor Manager and Book-keeper. Only if my mom could realize I am different from how I am at work and how I am at school/work. I feel as though this relates to the south. People are not lazy down here, they just have a whole different way of looking at life. Why rush it, and get pissed off at the person who can't get the change out of his pocket quick enough. Everywhere I go with my mom she ends up getting pissed at someone:whether were at CVS getting shampoo or at Starbucks getting coffee. Whenever she says something to someone she gives them such an attitude. I usually nudge her on the side and tell her to stop and she usually does. Then we walk out of the store and I ask her why she got so aggravated and I tell her it wasn't the cashiers fault. Then I go on and ask her "What the hell are we in a rush for?" Were usually just going straight home, therefore there was no need for her to get mad in the first place.

Beach Bums in St Augy

One thing I still don't understand and can't get a grasp on is why there are so many bums everywhere? Any and everywhere you look their is always a dude with gnarly hair and a huge beard, oversized backpack, asking you for some money or standing there on the corner of a red light with a sign reading " Need work". I just dont get it. The bums here aren't your normal bums either. Up north the bums in New York are actually homeless for a reason. I'v talked to many bums up north and the reason their living on the street is because they had a sh*ty past and ended up here and its to late to get a job, they have nothing. I'v had multiple conversations with the bums here and usually they say its a lifestyle. They think its a way of life, be a bum, and mooch of other people. A way of life, are you f*ckin' kidding me. If its a way of life, im not giving you any money. The only time I gave a bum money here was when I saw he had 2 dogs with him. I walked up to the little convenient store, saw a girl and guy( both of which had dreads, now dont take me wrong, I thing dreads are sick, just tryina give some visuals here) and 2 dirty but at the same time cute dogs just posted up chillin. As I was about to open the door, the guy said " Uh, hey mannn, you got any money?" He was definitely stoned outa his mind, but that goes with the "lifestyle" you know, just straight living the dream. So I said "hold up dude" and I walked inside all i could think about was if I gave him money, he was just gona blow it on some weed for him and his grimey lookin girl. So instead of givin him money, i went over and grabbed a decent sized cold water, and a big can of wet doggy food. I grabbed a coffee cup for them to put the water for the lil doggies. The dogs were super happy after I opened the cans of food and gave it to them, I felt bad because they were lookin at me like they wanted a nice pet behind the ears, but I really didnt feel like smellin for the rest of the day.

The bums here in St Augy kinda remind me of that movie "Into the Wild" with Emile Hirsch, he plays a kid who just graduated college and doesnt want to deal with the cultural norm of going back to grad school, getting a set job and family. He cuts all his credit cards, burns is social security number and changes his name. He believes that happiness can be obtained just living in nature, not dealing with the money, not getting jobs, not creating a family, not falling in love etc. He soon dies by himself, and the last thing he said was " happiness is only real when shared".

Where the Hell are we?

As were drivin down 95 further and further, I started taking note to a couple of things: old beat up pick-up trucks, confederate flags, camo hats/jackets, long beards and straw-like hair and people hanging out on the back of pick-up trucks. I started thinking "What the hell am I getting myself into?" Seeing confederate flags was the first thing I really noticed, I honestly couldn't have told you anything about it, I thought it just stood for racism(but i couldn't even tell you that at the time). We stopped at a Waffle house cause we saw signs all over. I noticed many different types of races, I also noticed everyone was overly friendly. It was almost like being in the twilight zone. The only thing I could get out of the waitress was the overused word "y'all". I had not clue people actually talked like that. Every time she said it i couldn't help but laugh. Now that I'v lived in the south for almost 2 years I'm starting to get used to it.

Headed Down 95

It was 1:00 in the morning, my friends mom was trying to kick me out of his house. He was headed for University of South Florida the next morning at 5 AM. I asked him if Flagler College was on the route to his school, he said " Na, but we can make change that." Next thing I knew was thawing my credit card down for a flight back a week later. I went home told my mom I was heading down to florida in the morning to help move my friend in. Couple hours later I was saying bye to my mom the next morning as she sipped her cup of coffee. Her reply was "Jay, where the hell are you going at 5:00 in the morning with a suitcase?", I replied "Heading down south for a bit, be home in a week, love ya."

Driving down 95 with two of my buddies, I didn't really know what to expect. The whole trip was complete random. At the time I was enrolled at University of Rhode Island, but i knew I had to get out of there,one : way to expensive, two: way to cold, and three: the party scene was getting the best of me. I had heard of Flagler College from a Communication Professor at URI, he told me to check it out because he knew I was transferring. At the time, I only thought I was going to transfer home to Montclair State University. I really didn't want to, but thought I had no other choice due to the 4 hour radius my mother had given me for schools. Hearing the word "Florida", I kind of just blocked that school out. It wasn't until I was out at Deal, a surf break in New Jersey checkin the waves and started talking to some kid that was doing the same. He was asking me where I got to school, so i did the same, he said " I go to this small school in Florida, its pretty sick and right by the water: Flagler College." Once I heard this I had to check up on it.

When we got to the school it didn't take long before I was applying to Flagler. I got home winter break and my mom handed me a little envelope with Montclair State University stamped on it. I opened it, it read something saying I am accepted but for the next fall semester. I read it out loud, I remember standing there and watching my mother stomping her one foot on the ground yelling at me about some shit I didn't want to hear. Even if I wanted to hear what she had to say, I couldn't, I felt sick to my stomach, I just stood there blank faced watching her but no sound was coming out. I walked up stairs and sat on my bed. My sister knew how upset/scared I was, I had totally forgotten about Flagler, it didn't even slip into my head. She walked by my room and told me to look under my pillow: It was huge envelope with Flager College stamped on it. I knew right from the package I had been accepted. I looked up at my sister as she stood there smiling at me, we jumped up and down as I screamed "I'm going to Florida!" When I ran down and told my mom, she was even more pist, she didn't even know I had applied. Soon she realized I would love it out there and was a lot more understanding, but still didn't like the idea of me being 18 hours away.