Hey, everyone! You can party in South Beach! Who knew?
The usual melange of preternaturally pretty people, overflowing pitchers of beer, and pounding house music assaults the senses, so this must be a party. The DJ announces that spring break is here, and the crowd shrills in response. If these gyrating nitwits are in any way representative of the spring break experience, then I'm grateful I opted to go canoeing in the Okeefenokee during my semester breaks. We see a series of quick-cut scenes meant to show exactly how much goes on at a party -- kids drinking out of a beer bong, a co-ed couple bumping and grinding by the pool, two girls licking each other for their audience's delight, girls losing their bikinis in the pool, a lot of hooking up -- and then we see someone with a Dumb and Dumber leer holding a video camera and recording a woman's breasts, then a tray of shaking Jell-O shots, then a woman's shimmying bikini-clad ass. Wow, do you think there's some sort of symbolism there? We switch out of the camera-eye's view and back to the party at large.
Then we switch to the packed streets, as more kids in convertibles roll down the street. The cars are filled with bikini-clad women, and the curb is filled with guys sporting video cameras. My innate misanthropy collides with my surveillance-society loathing, and I decide that this whole spring break thing is just beyond my ken. Why do people do this? Is someone holding their loved ones hostage? Is it post-lobotomy therapy? Anyway, we switch back to camera's-eye view for a second. Then we move over to a guy who looks an awful lot like a post-makeover David Silver, i.e. thinks-he's-hip A/V geek, and he's all, "All right, ladies. This -- this is for Babes on Break. Show America what you got." What I'd show is my fine left hook, but these girls take the nonviolent Mahatma Gandhi approach and share their breasts. The crowd goes wild; several other guys get the scene on tape too. AV-geek guy -- the actor Sean Maher, who last appeared on the misbegotten space opera Firefly -- gives the girls show t-shirts. That seems counterintuitive. You'd think he'd give them Babes on Break pasties instead. The scene ends with one girl shimmying for the camera in her tank top.
The sun comes up on the beach and we see the tide rolling in, splashing the feet of two guys passed out on lawn chairs at the surf's edge. The brown-haired guy sits up and asks his blond companion, "Dude, where's the car?" Heh. Throw in a lot of pudding, two gay Swedish aliens, and Jennifer Garner, and you've got yourself an amusing scenario. But since this is the laugh-free CSI: Miami, you just have the two guys exchanging a dialogue that can be summed up in the sentence, "Alcohol-fueled blackouts are funny!" The two clowns leave the chairs and retreat from the surf's edge, telling the slumped figure of a -- you got it -- bikini-clad girl, "You better get up! Tide's coming in!" They go to wake her up, but her open eyes, set in a head that's rotated about 110 degrees from the front of her body, clue these two in that she's not going to wake up any time soon. The morons scram.