Spring break
Scrolling through my Facebook feed a headline caught my eye. It was from a conservative columnist who takes life a little too seriously and on this day the bug up his backside was college kids going on spring break. He argued parents should immediately stop funding the debauchery of their children by giving them money to go on spring break. Part of me agreed that handing your child a thousand bucks to go drink beer on the beach when they could be home taking out the trash is not the best use of household funds. As for the debauchery part, I can only reflect back on my own childhood in South Troy and tell you kids don’t have to fly 3,000 miles away to get themselves in trouble. Show me an empty field where teenagers can build a bonfire and somebody is running to the store with a fake I.D.
None of my children opted to go on spring break but had they approached me about going I would have been a hypocrite to say “no” since I went on spring break twice during college. Both times, by the way, were disasters
The first trip happened in March of 1983 when I was a sophomore at H.V.C.C. Right after we started the spring semester fliers popped up all over campus advertising a seven day trip to Daytona Beach, Florida for about $600 bucks. That included your transportation and room at a hotel “near” the beach. My buddy John really wanted to go so we started scraping together the money. I was editor of the school newspaper, had a full slate of classes and worked part-time at Stewart’s so taking a week off to relax on the sunny beaches of Florida sounded like a welcome distraction. The trip was booked but nothing turned out as planned.
First up the transportation was a huge bus that housed six seats to a row and not much room for luggage so to say we were on top of each other would be an understatement. Still as the vehicle pulled away from the parking lot in Troy everyone’s spirits were high and it truly was a party on wheels. The excitement, music and laughter lasted about six hours of the long drive south. Unfortunately for us it takes 24 hours to drive from Troy to Daytona Beach so by the time we hit the Carolina’s the bus smelled like a locker room at half-time and all of us who were tired found it impossible to sleep in those uncomfortable seats.
When we eventually got to Florida a day later the hotel was not remotely really near the beach as promised but that wasn’t my real problem. The very first day I made a mistake that would ruin the trip. I took a long walk on the beach and covered myself with sun block. Unfortunately I forgot one spot; the tops of my feet. I walked an hour down the beach in one direction and then turned around and walked a full hour back. Then to make matters worse I sat in the sun another three hours. When I got back to the room and showered, I appeared from the bathroom and my friend John said, “What’s wrong with your feet?” They started as a bright fire engine red and then changed to colors I don’t think they could match the paint department in Home Depot.
That night as I tried to sleep my skin bubbled up and started coming off. I was in so much pain I wanted to cry. Several people suggested I go to the hospital but being from Troy I toughed it out. An adult at the hotel gave me some aloe lotion, advised me to soak my feet in it and wear socks the rest of the trip. Let me tell you nothing makes you more than a “chick magnet” than a guy on the beach wearing black socks with his swim trunks. My friends asked me to sit somewhere else because I was scaring all the women away.
Without boring you with the rest, my friend and I pooled our money together and purchased plane tickets back wrapping up the trip a bit early.
My second try at spring break came two years later when some friends of mine from Oswego drove to Fort Lauderdale our senior year of college. The consumption of alcohol seemed to affect our mathematical skills and when it came time to drive home we only had $9 dollars between the three of us to survive. Our solution was to buy one loaf of bread, a big jar of peanut butter and a single bag of potato chips. For the next 30 hours we rationed out the peanut butter like Matt Damon in that Mars movie and when one of my roommates ate more than his allotted share of chips I thought we’d have to call in the police to break up the fight.
In conclusion — spring break stinks, always wear sunscreen on your feet and if I never see a plain peanut butter sandwich again in this lifetime it will be fine by me. With that said if you are in college and reading this; enjoy the trip.
John Gray is a news anchor on WXXA-Fox TV 23 and ABC’S WTEN News Channel 10. His column is published every Wednesday. Email him at johngray@fox23news.com.