Spring Brake

Customers: It was nearing 1 a.m., and though the dance floor was getting packed, I still didn't see any girls unclasping their bras or discarding their dignity. The DJ played "Shout," which brought people to their feet — more reminiscent of a liquored-up wedding reception than a spring break alcohol-induced orgy.

Over Kristy's now-empty table, I spotted three uncomfortable-looking guys sipping beer by themselves. If Sloppy Joe's was a high school cafeteria, these three would've been playing D&D in the corner. Connor wore glasses and a flannel shirt. Pete, the responsible designated driver, was short, with slicked dark hair. Mike was disheveled and probably good at math — when he wasn't piss-drunk. He stared, got too close to my face when talking, and bought me a beer, warding off my evil vibes, because he "didn't trust" me for talking to them.

Apparently Fort Lauderdale now attracts not just girls unwilling to show a nipple, but guys who wouldn't know what to do with a girl's nipple if it ripped through a wet T-shirt and poked them in the face.

"So what brings ya'll to Fort Lauderdale?" I asked.

"It's 30 degrees in New Jersey," said Pete. "It's 80 here."

"Fair enough," I said. "Got big plans? Hook-ups? Booze? Beach time?"

"We're just here to have a 'real' spring break," Pete said. "But we don't really know what bars to hit up."

"There's a bunch near here," I said. "Check out Elbo Room."

"We did before we came here," said Connor. "It was boring, too."

Where the girls are: Maybe the biggest problem was that, with so many bars in the area to choose from, the promise of a wet chest ain't great lady-bait. When I left Sloppy's around 2 a.m., the dance floor had filled up — with guys. And the girls present looked in no particular rush to be hosed down.

Fort Lauderdale bar merchants seem to want that spring break money rolling in, but most people in the city don't want Spring Break. Been there, heard about that. Sell 'em a beer and move 'em along to Panama City.

I don't know if the wet T-shirt contest happened after 2 a.m., but as far as I was concerned, exploitation had been averted. A proud day for feminists everywhere — frat boys going home without witnessing that slippery slope of wet T-shirt contest debauchery.

So, just a bad night for spring break '08? Maybe. Or maybe lately Fort Lauderdale's just started attracting a tamer spring breakin' dame.