It is the second day of our senior trip, and everyone is enjoying the beautiful beach time and the $3 margaritas that our lovely bartender keeps pouring. It's no later than 2 p.m. and we are all about three drinks in, when all of a sudden a loud voice from behind me shouts, “I need a partner for Spikeball!” There are only two ways to go about this: (1) Follow my instincts and the alcohol telling me to play or (2) let him lose…