The current count of my friends who have had the flu in the past week or so is up to about five now. I should count myself lucky. I woke up on Friday, sure I was getting sick. Sore throat, congested beyond all get out, and just generally yucky. I called in sick to work and braced myself for a weekend of whining and crying and overall pukiness. Alas, I made it through the weekend flu-less (thanks, flu shot!) But it didn't change the fact that I am, in fact, sick. Of this winter crap. And now everyone is talking about their Spring Break, which is something I desperately need. A week in a hot climate with not a care in the world.
The last time I went on Spring Break, Geo, Perek and his wife Leah, our friend Chad and his girlfriend Angie, and I went to Puerto Vallarta. It was glorious. We sat in the pool, swam in waterfalls, rode horses (that were very malnourished, I should add), went on a booze cruise, and spent a whole week in flip flops. In the middle of February. It was like an alternate universe. I want to go there again. The sad thing was that that was my first actual vacation that I had ever taken without parental supervision.
I went to Puerto Vallarta for the first time with my family as a freshman in college. I was 19, and of legal drinking age in Mexico. Yet, every time I'd be out to eat with my parents, I'd have to order a Coca-Cola light. Nope, no cerveza for this chica. Boo. But I returned home with a wicked tan and a zillion braids in my hair (against my better judgement), so that's all that counts.
In high school, I went to Hong Kong with our high school band for our annual tour. Yeah, when most seniors were perfecting their pre-tans and buying new bikinis getting ready to go Cabo San Lucas together, I was packing up my flute and getting my band uniform dry cleaned. But THAT was a fun trip. We visited night markets, went sightseeing, lived it up in our fancy hotel robes, and, get this, they put corn on their pizza! EXOTIC!
Before that, we never really did too much on Spring Break. My parents and Perek and I visited Gulf Shores, Alabama one year and I was about 5 yards away from a crocodile (alligator? I don't know. What's the diff?) on a golf course and drank my first "Sweet Tea". But everyone else was brushing up on their Spanish or Balinese or whatever and going somewhere real tropical-like. The contiguous 48 states aren't exactly "tropical".
I used to watch "MTV's Spring Break" every year and be all, "Aw man, I want to be in that disgusting mess of drunk people trying to eat 50 jalapeno peppers while being dowsed in foam!" It all seemed so fun...so magical. Now, I just want endless margaritas, a forced absence of internet access, and a quick dip in a cool pool after baking in the hot sun. Plus, now that I'm old enough to drink beer in every corner of the world, I'd like to go there. Anywhere. Now.
I need a break. I need a Spring. I would love to take off for a week and leave my cares behind, but I haven't got a thing planned. Today, I got a manicure with Claire and I chose the brightest, most obnoxious pink color I could find, as if that would suffice. But now I'm looking at my nails as they peek out of my fingerless gloves and, alas, it's not enough. They would look beautiful if they were building sand castles. What can a girl do, though? With no vacation in sight, and no relief from the 6 foot drifts of snow still hindering my walk to the bus, what can I do to feel all spring-breaky? The answer, of course, is to just wallow and hope for some sun. I should also consider doubling-up on the tequila.