A colder trip for spring breakMar 28th, 2009 | By Nate | Category: Commentary, Opinions
Nathanael Edward Bassett
Here’s a short guide to cheating yourself out of the ideal spring break vacation: warm, clear beaches and lots of drunken, uproarious college students reveling in collective frenzy, with camera crews shooting episodes of Cops for the spring break special.
First, you have to come from a climate-inferior state – anything north of the Carolinas will do, as most people picture anything above Virgina Beach and San Fransisco like outer space for a travel destination in the Winter/Spring months. It just doesn’t warm up as much as you’d like – Cape Cod’s population triples during the tourist season, from Memorial Day to Labor Day. The rest of the year it’s deserted, like some awful reminder of Jersey shore and Asbury Park before the renovations you can see now on the previously mentioned Cops.
Second, move or go to school very far away so that when you do have some time to take a vacation, you’re obligated to return home to visit family. This means when others are getting away to places where it’s warmer and there’s more going on, you’ll get to sit around catching up with relatives, wearing sweaters and watching the significant other unfortunate enough to be dragged into this mess tap their feet, waiting for the trip they deserve.
Lastly, be sure to pack your bags with lots of fun stuff like homework, books to read, and make a schedule of the things you need to do while you’re home. If you have a friend you haven’t seen in awhile, don’t forget to visit them while you’re there! This may not be too bad, but just remember to keep your patience when you inevitably experience the trying times of this sort of trip; bringing your grandmother’s car into the shop for a new tire and an oil change, since you’re the only one who would do it, costing three hours. Getting hassled by cops because you traded cars with your brother-in-law, who lives in a place where the cops have nothing better to do than hassle those who are a day late on their registration and the unknowing souls who drive such cursed vehicles. Losing your return ticket on the MTA and having to shell out 18 bucks so you can get back home, because the walrus-faced train attendant has an unbending devotion to ensuring the demise of his industry.
Next time, remind me to send a card from a beach somewhere.