Spring Break Done Right

Bright lights, questionable morals, getting lucky and having nothing to loose: this is what spring break is all about…when you’re eighteen and in Cancun. When you’re an adult in pursuit of luck, flashy lights, and shady characters you head to the casino. For the record: I hate casinos. I don’t gamble. I am disgusted by large buffets, oppressed by rooms without windows, and scared by giant silent men with earpieces. I have a strong aversion to entering any place where I know I am going to lose; in the case of a casino this includes my money, my mind, and my manners. Yet I went to the casinos, not once but twice, in a two-week period. These visits scythe my memory of spring break—parenthesis capturing the beginning and tail end of a delicious debauchery known as spring break ’08.

March 23rd, Easter Sunday- After a lovely family weekend on Lake George, and a delicious brunch at the Gideon Putnam most of my family—the part that had to work on Monday- headed back to their posts at the doors of responsibility. Meanwhile, my parents, my friend Anna, second cousin Frankie and I headed for the white gates of the racetrack and the golden knobs of the slot machines: the Racino (aka Saratoga Gaming and Raceway). In our Sunday bests, Anna and I gambled with the money we’d won from the prized “money eggs” we’d found during the family’s annual Easter Egg hunt. I had four dollars, Anna had ten (beginner’s luck). We deposited our money in the poker machine’s and awaited the royal flush. At one point I was up two, but by the end of the half hour, I’d lost it all. “My baby’s college fund” I cried, gaining the attention of just one slot player. Anna somehow managed to win a few dollars, while Frankie won over thirty. "Quit while you're ahead" my mother advised, and headed back to the lake house.

The plan was to spend a few days in Lake George, a day in Boston, and the rest of the time in New York City. Though NY, MA, and NYC are all normal stops on my periodic travel table I was prepared to enjoy these destinations with a new perspective on the traditional travel vaca: vacation as a state of mind and not a state of being. Paid-vacation: a state of bliss. Characteristics of a good traveler: flexible (when plans change), reliable (when someone is traveling with you), patient (when you are relying on someone else), good looking (this helps with discounts and directions). Anna and I make the perfect travel friends: we have a solid friendship foundation in which we know and respect each other’s quirks, we’ve spend extended period’s of time together in a foreign country, we like to do the same things, dislike similar things, are hilarious together, and enable each other constantly. Traveling across New England for a week, we were in our element.

The plans changed slightly and we adapted as needed. We left Lake George on Monday afternoon, arrived in my hometown of Holden, MA, bee-lined for Boston that evening, arriving in Brookline around 6 p.m. We had martini’s in the Top of the Hub overlooking the small city buzzing with light, as airplanes dropped across the cityscape into Logan. We flew our little buzzed-selves over to the South End to “Beehive” a great bar with live music, friendly bartenders (and a friend who knew them= the only affordable way to drink in Boston). Bright and early Tuesday we soaked up the academic scene around Harvard Square, seeped Co-op tea, and received complimentary facials at Origins. After a quick appointment back in Worcester, we loaded into my brother’s Endeavor and took off for Cape Cod. After a night of much needed sleep we awoke to a gorgeous 50 degree sunshine-daydream. We walked along the beach, had lunch at my favority local spot “Land-ho”, cruised through Chatham, and headed back to Worcester to catch the 8:30 Greyhound to Port Authority. At 1:35a.m we emerged to find W 35th bustling—as always. Thursday morning found Anna and I running my favorite loop around the northern half of Central Park. Afternoon brought Empire State views, time square crazies, shopping in mid-town, and wine and cheese in Soho next to Whoopi (Goldberg). After a brief rest in East Harlem we headed to the East Village for a small pub crawl—McSorley’s (oldest pub in NY), St. Mark’s Place pub, Blue + Gold, and finally Rodeo Bar (where I fell in love with the Banjo player in the bluegrass band du jour, and Anna and I got into some mischief, and then retreated). I had to work at 9 a.m. on Friday—and by work I mean fill in for my boss as manager…by noon Anna and I were in my favorite local Peruvian restaurant with beans and rice and a pitcher of the best Sangria on 1st ave. Then we got our nails down (mani-peti-20$, can’t beat that). Then I went to Bumble and Bumble and had my hair chopped off and donated to Locks of Love. Before and after pictures will be posted. Next was dinner in Brooklyn, and a night of sing-a-long with Chris and his guitar in Prospect Heights. 5a.m. found us behind the wheel of a borrowed car, headed for Long Island Airport. Anna and I said our airport goodbyes, promising a visit to CA in May, and both daydreaming about the naps in our near future.

A week earlier my mother had advised “quit while you’re ahead.” This was in reference to my being up a few dollars on the slots. I didn’t take the advice then, and in typical fashion, my mother was right—I lost (my mother is almost always right). “Quit while you’re ahead”—as far as spring break went, I was well ahead. We had a great trip, great weather, good luck, and still felt good. So I pushed my luck a little further. That night I went to Banjo Jim’s to see the band from Thursday night (as promised) with Lauren. After I exchanged numbers with the bluegrasser before he headed back to Virginia in his minivan, I headed to Brooklyn with Lauren. We went to a party at her friend’s house (the same friend who was friend’s with the beard from New Years). Needless to say I had a little bit too much to drink, or maybe it’s just something about that house, but by the time we all moved to the Crocodile Lounge I was making out with some guy from Greenpoint. This is not me, and this is why I should have quit while I was ahead…at least in dignity. There was nothing wrong with this guy, he was attractive…I think, or maybe he was just sitting next to me in the booth, the point is, I should have quit while I was ahead. So I did. I had another guy at the bar have his arm around me when Green Point got back from the bathroom (ie. Before we were suppose to leave for Green Point), and he went home alone and I got into a fight with Lauren and took a cab back to E. Harlem alone at 6a.m…salvaging some dignity.

That should have been the end of spring break. It wasn’t. After a few days of work I took off for South Jersey for my old college roommate Jon’s wedding. Thursday-Saturday can be summed as follows: I ate the Tequila worm.


Sunday, April 6th. 12a.m.. I’d been lost for about a half an hour. Physically, I was located somewhere between the penny slots and craps tables on the bottom floor of Caesar’s Atlantic City. Mentally I was somewhere between “I’m gonna take a nap on that bench” and “this is the worst day of my life, I’m taking a bus home”. Truthfully, it had been a great day. We’d all rented a cabana at "Pool Bar" at Harrah’s on Saturday—a five hour pool, margarita, hot tub, lounge extravaganza. After dinner we had vague plans to meet back at Caesar’s Palace. Vague plans + alcohol + large group= frustration, accusation, and resignation. Conner, a friend from college as well as the cameraman for the wedding, is similarly disinclined towards casino’s. We tossed comments back and forth as we trucked down the blood-red carpet highway circled the floor “And these places are packed all the time.” he gawked, “seriously, you could come in here on Easter and it would be packed.” “I know” I replied “We should quit while we’re ahead”. Three hours later, I was dropped off at the front door of my apartment in E.Harlem. Then I went out to a party in Brooklyn, just kidding. I went to bed.

Dictionary.com’s definition of parenthesis is as follows:

Grammar. a qualifying, explanatory, or appositive word, phrase, clause, or sentence that interrupts a syntactic construction without otherwise affecting it, having often a characteristic intonation and indicated in writing by commas, parentheses, or dashes, as in William Smith—you must know him—is coming tonight.

Spring Break, though crazy, is a side note on a greater thought. For me, it’s a fun little blurb on a greater experience of working life in New York. Spring break done right should not carry over affects onto everyday life. When done well, you quit while you’re ahead. You end the parenthesis before it’s becomes a run-on. Then you drink a whole lot of water, and wake up early for work.