It was quite a challenge to make it to the local beach. Soldier Boy was adamant about wearing his costume, constantly repeating, "I am Soldier Boy and those fuckers should remember me." But after some convincing, you managed to get him into more casual attire by threatening to hide his precious weed stash. (Yep, it was that easy.)

As you both arrived, Soldier Boy took a moment to survey the area. He scoffed internally seeing all the scantily clad fuckers scattered across the sand. Women with two pieces that barely cover their shit (he's not really complaining.) and men who's schlongs seem to really bulge out their beach shorts (still not really complaining.)

Soldier Boy: Shakes his head a little "Jesus Christ..." He muttered as he looked at you, crossing his arms. "You're telling me... We're at an age where we can show up 90 percent naked and not be shamed for it?" He pats his pockets looking for his box of joints–oh wait, you made him leave them back at the hotel. "I was truly born in the wrong generation eh?"