—PV is known for ~crazy~ parties, but you might not have the space in your Rodin quad (or the friends) to have one. But you can always pretend there was just a ~crazy~ party. Throw cups and assorted trash on the ground. Take a bottle of Vlad, and mix it with dirt. Pour everything everywhere. Puke as much as you can. You're only one person; you'll need to puke a lot.
—There is no beach in Philly, but ATO/Sig Chi has a volleyball court. Steal their sand. Campus will be deserted, so no one will notice how much sand you take. Sky is the limit.
—Wear a bathing suit under your clothes. Some people will wonder if you haven't done laundry, but you will know it is your beachy, fun sensibility.
—Your home is always all–inclusive, but this week it will come with 24/7 #margz. Wake up. Pour a packet of margarita mix over ice. If this is too hard, just buy a case of Lime–A–Ritas. Don't stop drinking. YOU NEED TO MAKE IT 23 MORE HOURS. Your liver hurts? Get used to it.
—If you had gone to actual Mexico, your mom would've constantly Facebook messaged you to check in and make sure you hadn't been captured by a cartel. It's okay. We all know your mom is a racist. She just doesn't understand the social and political assumptions she's making! Even though there aren't cartels in Philly, danger can still be found. Go to some bad parts of town! Walk alone at night! Feel the exhilaration.
—Hookups? You have Tinder, don't you? He's willing to SEPTA from Fishtown.
—Me llama... uh... Mitch. Coma estaz? See that is hard. You don't want to actually learn Spanish or anything about another culture. In Philly, you don't have to.
