Over on the adorable little foot bridge connecting the pool area to the tiki bar, a sunburnt, massively overweight, tattoo-sleeved man, with a cigarette behind each ear and holding no less than 6 plastic cups of beer, took a moment out of his focused and determined get-shit-faced mission to stop, look me up and down, and say with a tipsy half-wink, “Sweet Christmas!” I felt quite confident that had he not been juggling said beers, he would have used his free hand to grab my ass. Fortunately for him, he was still able to grab it, metaphorically, with his eyes. And boy did he grab on tight!
And that, kids, is how I met and fell in love with your father.
—Me, telling this story 10 years from now.