Spring Break!

When I was in college, the big spring break destination was Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. I never went because I spent most of my spring breaks working extra hours at my job and being basically a no-life college student. To be fair though, I went to Oklahoma one year, but that was with my brother, so I’m not sure it counts.

When Corey announced that he was going to New Orleans for spring break, I had two thoughts: “Oh no!” and “How wonderful!” Typical mom worries influenced one thought and envy the other. Corey’s roommate Brian has a good friend who goes to school at Loyola and the boys wanted to go down for a little R&R. Brian doesn't drive and I wasn't so crazy about Corey taking his 94 Honda Accord for a 2,000 mile spin. Then he told me that his friend and classmate Michele, who lives in New Orleans and drives a newer model Subaru Outback, would be going home for spring break along with a friend and he and Brian were going to ride along and share gas and driving. Great plan!

New Orleans is 1,000 miles from Richmond, a trip that would take about 16-17 hours. They wanted to do it in one day and with three out of four driving it didn't seem like it would be too bad. Pretty much a straight shot down I-85. And since Michele lived in New Orleans and had made the trip back and forth a number of times, I felt comfortable knowing that she would be familiar with the route. But somehow, after Atlanta, this group ended up heading down I-75 to Florida.

The mishap was a combination of group dynamics (a polite way of saying that Michele’s friend turned out to be a controlling feminist Nazi type), which allowed irritation and frustration levels to max out, and not using the GPS, which was in the car the whole time. (Go figure.) I had to wonder though, how someone who lives in Louisiana doesn't realize for almost 300 miles that they weren't going to Louisiana. I guess Michele didn't know her way home as well as I thought she would. So when they didn't arrive in New Orleans at the expected time, I was a little concerned. Especially since Corey's cell phone was dead and I didn't have any one else's number. OK, I was a lot concerned.

I found Brian's mother's number, called her, and that's when I discovered they had taken their five hour detour. Eventually, they landed in New Orleans, very tired, but safe. A week filled with a crawfish boil, beer, the French Quarter, skateboarding, and just hanging out with friends turned out to be a pretty good time. The trip home was far less eventful; at least they didn't see any "Welcome to Florida" signs. Dumping Michele’s friend at the Greyhound bus depot in Atlanta also helped. Smile.

When my brother and I went to Oklahoma for spring break we visited family and saw bison, big horn sheep, prairie dogs, oil wells, tornado weather and even received a “police escort” to the local station in Anadarko for doing 30 in a 25mph zone. (Go figure.) We didn’t get to Oklahoma by way of Florida, but we still had fun. After all, spring break is spring break!