I was never one of those bitches who actually came back from spring break with a tan. The one time I attempted to observe this national tradition, at a tacky all-inclusive resort in the Dominican Republic, the result was somewhat pathetic. Instead of flashing for beads at a poolside bar, I hid when I realized my white cotton underwear was glowing through my sheer vintage dress thanks to a club's black light. Rather than slutting it up with beefy date rapists, my friend and I hung out with a sun-burnt older couple from Germany who later sent us post cards. At least I succeeded in drinking plenty of caipirihnas and one pina colada... More >>>