My Spring Break Advice For Freshman

With one-hit-wonder rappers from the mid-2000s buying their tickets to Cancun, it feels like Spring Break is in the air. Because of how fucked most college spring schedules are, there really isn’t a designated Spring Recess for most, but I’m sure you guys have figured something out by now. Personally, I’ll be taking my talents back to South Beach, getting brutally sunburnt and drinking away the anxiety I’ve procured from an atrocious performance during midterms. As a junior, I’d consider myself somewhat of a Spring Break veteran. Here’s the thing about Spring Break: mistakes make for electric GroupMe content later, but you don’t want to do anything that could completely ruin your life when you enter back to normal society. I’m not a fucking Mom telling you that it’s a bad idea to get thrown in the drunk tank or publicly makeout with a forty-seven-year-old cougar; I’m just saying you don’t want to come home with herpes and a negative bank account. So here’s some advice from a wily vet that has taken one too many L’s. 

Try and Make Some Of Your Food: Most of your calories are going to come from alcohol, but as a boy, you need to consume at least two square meals to keep your stamina going. You don’t want to be that guy in and out of consciousness with a 2k Gatorade emoticon above his face full of sharpy-drawn dicks. If you eat out every meal and go to bars like you know you’re going to, you’re going to burn through your savings faster than an NFL player buying jewelry on a rookie contract. Be smart here. It could even be as simple as some bread, peanut butter, and jelly. If you have a grill, use it. The hero of my spring break trip last year was the guy that collected $20 from everybody and went to Whole Foods. If you’re staying in a shitty hotel room, buy non-perishable food that you can get some calories from throughout the day. Sure, doing uppers means you can skip a meal, but at some point, a big dog’s gotta eat. 

Buy A RoundTrip Plane Ticket: Unless you’re in real dire straits or waiting for a paycheck, this is a no-brainer. Even with COVID, a one-way plane ticket is 100% more expensive and less convenient than biting the bullet ahead of time. The LAST thing you want to do is hitch a ride with some random friend-of-a-friend that decided to drive back. Normal hangxiety in addition to an awkward extended car ride, is any reasonable person’s worst nightmare. What if you have to fart the entire car ride? Just take the L, deal with the 1000000 black babies that are on every Spirit Airlines flight.

Wait To Breakup After Spring Break: I once went on a spring break trip with a girl who I fought with the whole time and I’d say I would’ve had more fun doing something else; like forcing myself to read Chrissie Teagan’s tweets…or suicide. My edible just hit halfway through this blog. I was told it was not strong and was lied to; oh my god I’ve been on this sentence for ten minutes. But anyway, yeah, if you’re fighting with somebody during your entire spring break, there are likely trust issues at hand anyway. A vast majority of college relationships don’t work out, so a week of drunk fighting is pretty proof positive things for the two (maybe like…I don’t know… seven if you go to BYU) of you aren’t going to get better anyway. But DON’T end shit midway through a trip. That is not only a logistical nightmare for figuring out a new living situation, but you’re also introducing drama with that move. For you, the worst possible environment to end things with your girl is one where she has the opportunity to wear about as much clothing as a Met’s executive in a hotel room alone, surrounded by guys just as drunk as just as horny as you are.

Anything Easy Is Usually A Scam: When I was an asshole teenager thinking I was smarter than my parents, I invested a lot of time looking into get rich quick schemes around the internet, and The Wolf of Wall Street made that habit exponentially more attractive. Whenever I imagined some loophole I believed I had thought up first, my Mom would always say anything easy is usually a scam. And that, my friends, is why any girl that starts aggressively pleading to go to your hotel room after five minutes of eating face is usually a bad idea. A girl that eager to have sex with a common man like yourself is usually A. Wayyy too drunk or B. Been passed around more than the bong on a Zoomies employee’s Mom’s basement table. You don’t want to have unconsensual sex, or a Jackson Pollack painting of itchy, red bumps on your ball sack. 

Sunscreen: The sun hurts and I fucking hate my dermotologist, put doctor Haberman out of business. 

Bottle Service Is Hardo: Odds are you aren’t rolling into a club with an NFL prospect friend or an influencer, so don’t feel the need to buy bottle service. Every time I’ve been with a friend who ordered bottle service,after the last drop was sucked out of the fifth we just paid the cost of an abortion for, girls have left almost instantaneously. It’s about as overrated as Community and usually nobody gets anything out of it. If you don’t actually have it like that, it’s really fucking barred-out to pretend you do. Blowing your debit card on thirty minutes of feeling like you aren’t five foot six is so fucking hardo. You aren’t Lil Uzi bro, you’re Lil Overcompensating.

Don’t Sign Your Name On The Lease: My freshman year we trashed a woman’s house in South Padre Island so bad that we got evicted three days into a week rental. The process of getting held at ransom because my boys and I used Fakes for her personal identification policy left me about as stressed out as Jason Bateman in anything he’s ever been in, ever. If you’re reading this, you likely aren’t the stupidest kid in your PC, this is a nightmare waiting to happen, man. 

This could’ve taken me an hour at most, but we are approaching six hours. I’m so sorry for the grammar. God damnit, I have my last Midterm tomorrow. Holy shit, that’s going to suck. 

To comment, fill out your name and email below.

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Don’t Be This Guy. Seriously, Never. Just the Worst.

What Your Spiked Seltzer Says About You