A Wild Ride to Daytona Beach Spring break, the craziest week of the year. I was a sophomore in college and taking a trip to Daytona Beach, Florida. The plan was for me to stay all week in my own room with friends showing up separately later in the week. I showed up Monday just before lunch, parked my car, and walked to the front desk. After waiting a few minutes, the tired receptionist gave me my key. I grabbed my suitcase from the car, slung a beach towel over my shoulder, and walked up the stairs to the room. The key card slid in, beeped, and the door opened. My back to the door, I drug my heavy bad in the room, turned around, and practically kissed the tall, tan, muscular surfer guy about my age staring back at me. He had a confused look on his face and I jumped back with a quick "AHH!" from shock. Laughing in embarrassment when I noticed he was in just a towel and headed to the bathroom, I apologized, fumbled with the keycard, and said I must have the wrong room, though both the key and the room number on the door were the same. Luckily a hotel manager happened to be walking by and I flagged her down. I explained that the room was already occupied and I must have the wrong key. After a brief moment of exchanging words on a walkie-talkie she nervously bit her lip. "Guys...we have a problem." We stared at her, expecting her to fix this awkward situation as soon as possible. "You've both been booked in the same room." We nodded. "And the Hotel is full," she finished. We looked from her to each other, then back. The guy, who had to be about 19 or 20, adjusted his towel trying to act unfazed by two strangers in his room while he was wearing a small hotel towel. …the next moment changed everything
