By MEGAN GRIGORIAN
With Spring Break only days away, I’m sure most everyone already has their plans set in stone. But just in case you are debating over whether to hitch a ride to Panama City or head on one last senior year adventure road trip, I have some unsolicited advice.
As someone who has had the typical college spring break experience, the whole week of shenanigans is highly overrated.
This year, my plans include my parent’s sofa, The Godfather trilogy, and a stack of job applications – and I couldn’t be more jazzed.
Last year, four of my friends and I packed ourselves into a Jeep Cherokee for a 14-hour car trip to Orlando, Fla. While Disney World, Universal Studios, boating and non-stop nights of partying was a guaranteed good time, we returned to a plethora of papers and projects – not to mention a serious dent in our wallets.
What followed the realization that I should have spent spring break in front of my “Complete Works of Chaucer” book instead of Glamour magazine was a feeling I hadn’t been introduced to in years.
I was overwhelmed with homesickness. I needed a break from my break.
That’s when I decided I would take it easy this year – really use the break to unwind and enjoy the comforts of home one last time. Come May, week-long vacations are going to be hard to come by.
The whole spring break phenomenon does not live up to the hype or reputation that the bikini-clad girls give it on MTV. I’ll admit, I half-expected to walk out of my hotel room and be greeted by VJ’s and D-list celebrities wanting to spend the day bumping and grinding on the beach with me.
But it just isn’t so.
Truthfully, it shares a lot of similarities to a typical weekend with your friends at school.
Is getting drunk and stupid in Virginia really that different then doing so in some tropical location?
The only real difference involves paying $500 that you don’t have to rent a condo for a week rather than sleeping in your dorm room.
Driving more than a couple hours to get to your destination can also leave a sour taste in your mouth.
Spring, pardon the pun, for the plane ticket.
Being crammed in a vehicle with luggage, two working seatbelts and no air-conditioning does not equal a relaxing vacay, especially if you’re like me and never remember to call shotgun.
If you do decide to jump on the bandwagon and spend your hard-earned cash (your parent’s monthly allowance) unwinding on some east coast beach, I leave you with a few words of advice.
Never jump into the ocean fully clothed in the middle of February at 2 a.m., no matter how good of an idea it seems at the time. You’ll get a bitchin’ case of pneumonia.