It’s just past that time of the year: time for excessive alcohol consumption, third-degree midwestern sunburns, mothers laying awake at night worrying and plenty of poor decision making. Students hate to love it, parents love to hate it, it’s spring break.
How did this annual tradition of collegiates blacking out at four-star tropical resorts become culturally acceptable? Has college spring break mutated into such a beast that not even COVID-19 can slay it? Given college students’ notorious exhaustion, you would think that a week off from class would be spent catching up on lost sleep or heading back to their parent’s house for a home-cooked meal. But instead, bright, young scholars of our nation flock to the beaches of Florida and Mexico, only to deprive their bodies of the nutrients and rest that they direly need.
Initially, I thought the concept of college spring break started on MTV, when camera crews headed to Daytona Beach, Florida, to capture drunk party animals in their natural habitat. But actually, spring break started far before MTV. Apparently, in the mid to late 1930s, a collegiate swim coach from upstate New York decided to bring his team to Fort Lauderdale to train early in an Olympic standard-size pool, and after word spread to other coaches, the Easter-time migration became an annual event. Of course, with a week off of school in Florida, the college students dabbled in their fair share of parties. It wasn’t until the mid 1980s that MTV sent camera crews down to televise the event, and since then it’s grown into the spring break we know and love today.
There was never a time when spring break was intended for relaxation. From its origins, it meant students were using necessary time off to work on some other obligation or exert their livers past their physical limits. What happened to a relaxing spring break? Was there ever a possibility of sitting in a beach chair and reading a book, unbothered by EDM music and sugary cocktails?
As I sit here writing this column, I know I’m a hypocrite. I just got back from five days in the Dominican Republic, where my friend turned to me and said, “Why did we ever think we would read on this trip?” I spent my mornings hungover by the pool, the afternoons sweating my sunscreen off during beach volleyball, my evenings running rampant around the resort, all the staples of the tropical tourist lifestyle. I had the time of my life, until I landed back in the United States.
That’s when something infamously known as hanxiety, or hangover anxiety, set in. We hadn’t even left baggage claim when I felt the need to lay in my childhood bed and be hugged by my mother. Simply being on Minnesotan soil reminded me of the homework I had put off, the housekeeping tasks I needed to check off my list and the exams I had yet to study for. I started to sweat. Instead of coming back from my break feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, I found myself in a downward spiral, crippling under the pressure of the “work hard, play hard” collegiate lifestyle. How can a week dedicated to leisure and relief result in a panic attack?
Spring break has snowballed into a monstrosity of pressure and expectation. Not only is there an expectation to go somewhere lavish and expensive, but there’s the requirement that you must go with a large sum of people (who will see you in a swimsuit, so make sure you’re in shape!), the expectation to be constantly consuming alcohol, to sacrifice sleep for “the nights you won’t forget.” Now go and relax! This is fun! Right?
This “girls (and others) gone wild” type of break can be fun if done safely. I can personally attest that while every kid is out ripping shots at swim-up bars, their parents are restless, mulling over every possible scenario in which their child may not return home in one piece. We’ve all heard the stories of disasters while drunk. Spring break is all fun and games until this morbid truth demands to be acknowledged. These tragic accidents can happen in ways we don’t even know to prepare for; a study at the University of Miami found that fatal car accidents increase by 9.1% in popular spring break destinations and that the majority of drivers involved are under the age of 25. I heard plenty of reminders from my parents: “don’t take drinks from strangers, make sure to hydrate, share your location with friends.” When accounting for so many horrible possibilities, we forget about the other mundane safety measures like looking both ways when crossing the street. As unfortunate as these deaths and injuries are, we need to be aware of them in order to prevent them from happening.
If you’ve read this far and interpreted that I am anti-spring break, I’ve failed. College spring break is a ritual. It’s a monumental core memory that I can’t wait to tell my kids about as they’re packing for Cabo. I think everyone should experience it, at least once, if they so choose, because I’ve never been a part of something so hilariously chaotic in my life. Afterward, I found myself feeling closer and more connected to my friends. We’ve spent the days after reminiscing over comedic moments, getting riled up about other annoying hotel guests, longing for our once golden tans. So as I wrap up my college career, I’m thrilled to put spring break in my mental scrapbook. It’s a vacation that perfectly combines aspects of adult responsibility with collegiate carelessness, as long as safety is kept in mind. So I stand on my soapbox and yell to the world: Go! Drink and be merry! Wear sunscreen! Spend your money irresponsibly! Use the buddy system! Be safe, take care of yourself and your friends and go absolutely nuts.
