I walked up to the check-out at Express and plopped my purchases onto the counter. "Did you find everything alright?" The perky co-ed gave me a smile as she started ringing up my items. Suddenly a sea foam green tank top with a black sequined palm tree stitched to the front caught her eye. "Omygod, this is SO. Cute!" she gushed excitedly, "Are you going on spring break?!" I paused a beat as I tried to figure out if she was mocking my purchase. After all, what thirty-something (practically ancient in the eyes of anyone under twenty-five) would buy something so ridiculous in February? (Or ever?) In a split second, I decided she was genuinely, adorably clueless and responded with a cheerful grin, "Why yes. Yes, I am."
Spring Break. I never had one. My parents got their education the hard way. They WORKED, and they paid for it. As a result, I was entirely responsible for my own room and board, as well as my own college tuition. The closest I ever came to a spring break was when a bunch of friends and I road-tripped to Winnipeg one dreary March. None of us had any money (or any parents with money willing to foot the bill for a frivolous vacation that would no-doubt result in a Girls Gone Wild cameo that would inevitably ruin our chances at political office), so while the greeks and the rich kids flocked south of the border, my economically-challenged friends and I headed defiantly north. It was a great time. We stayed at a Ramada because, as an employee of the Ramada in Fargo, one of my friends got super-cheap rooms. We carpooled. We bought off-sale, cleaned out every ice machine in the entire hotel, and got drunk in our rooms to save money. We paraded down the street to a dirty strip club, and one of my friends purchased a fist full of bargain weed from some weirdo outside the mall. (YIKES.) Instead of buying souvenirs, I stole sticky shot glasses from the Tijuana Yacht Club. We passed out at the hotel in random heaps, wearing mini-skirts, Hawaiian shirts and smiles. I loved nearly every minute of that trip, but it still wasn't the same as a real Spring Break.
This year, my friends and I decided it was high time we take a tropical vacation together. Sun, sand, friends, and liquor. What could be better? It was long overdue! (Right?) However, due to costs involved, we ended up changing our original plans to chill at a Jamaican resort, to renting a house in Key West. Spend a night or two in Miami, Key Largo, and then head to Key West (in wicked rental mini-vans), where the booze is plentiful, there's a beach on every corner, and Cuba is closer than the nearest Walmart. (True story.) The house was GORGEOUS. Private pool, beach across the street, and the Southernmost Point of the United States was literally 200 yards away.
We had an amazing time. We drank. We danced. We saw strippers and sang karaoke. We took cheesy visitors' tours and bought tacky souvenir photos. I've got a million new memories and funny stories. We saw crocodiles, the world's largest lobster statue, haunted liquor establishments, and P. Diddy's Miami home. But do you know what the funny part is? It was unseasonably cold, and rained almost the entire time we were there, but it didn't matter. After all of these years it wasn't the "tropical location" that finally made our "Spring Break" a reality, it was each other. I've had the amazing good fortune to have found a group of friends that, even though most of us met by accident, has been able to stick together throughout the years. Although separated by distance, there is something about our relationships that time and distance doesn't change. And even though Key West was historical and beautiful, and Miami was all sexy and happening, that stuff was a mere background to the real action. My favorite memories of this "grown-up Spring Break" are singing karaoke in a tiny little Key West bar with barely any customers. We drank and danced, choked down jell-o shots, and sang the same songs we've been singing to each other for a decade. In Key Largo, we played drinking games and listed to early 2000's hip-hop at top volume until security banged on the door and threatened to kick us out. We hugged, we talked, we took silly pictures, and we walked arm-in-arm down Ocean Drive in South Beach like it was Broadway in Fargo, 2003. The honest truth is, I think that my friends and I could have taken a Spring Break anywhere and made it just as amazing as we did in Florida. We make our own fun, and that fun is about being together, not being somewhere. The setting is just the icing on the cake. The real treasure in this trip has been reconnecting with friends and realizing that while time irrevocably passes, some things truly never change. Those interpersonal connections are what keep us grounded, and what keep us young. Despite the demands of career, family, and society, I don't know if my friends and I will ever truly act our ages. Lol, I don't even know if it's possible. Whenever we set eyes on each other, it's like a time warp. Our hearts come alive with that carefree spirit we possessed in our youth, when all we needed to do was get home safely and pay rent on time. It's the indescribable feeling that you can only explain in hindsight. When I was 22, I thought I was an adult, but somehow felt like I'd be young forever. The world was my oyster and nothing was impossible. It's the kind of thing you can only appreciate looking backward. However, with age has come the wisdom and perspective to know that every day is a gift, and not one moment is to be wasted or taken for granted. And perhaps that is why now, more than ever, my friends and I can suck down a jell-o shot, grab that karaoke mic, link arms and sing our hearts out with a gusto like we never have before.
