This January, I decided not to drink. I didn’t swear off it, I didn’t shun it to the deepest corners of wherever, I just chose to stop drinking for a little bit. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal and it hasn’t really been. Honestly, I studied abroad in London last semester and just sort of had enough of it for a while. No biggie.
Movies and television shows always show college spring break as this insane collection of days in some tropical paradise, strung together with way too much tequila and bad decisions. Some top examples of this are Twenty Two Jumpstreet, From Justin to Kelly, or the enigmatic and always classic Spring Breakers.
My spring break this year, my first as an adult that could legally consume alcoholic beverages, was nothing like that. But not drinking had nothing to do with why my spring break wasn’t like the movies. My spring break was different, mainly, because I spent the majority of it in upstate New York, housebound by Winter Storm Stella. Rochester got twenty-six inches, roughly two and a half feet. It was not exactly balmy beach weather. But instead of being the only sober person laying out next to a pool, I wrapped myself in five different blankets and watched movies with my best friend for four days straight. We had mac and cheese and hot chocolate and I never once woke up with a hangover.
On Thursday, however, we got out of the storm and flew south, to Naples, Florida. We stayed in a resort full of old people and had BLTs and lemonade by the pool. I got a deep tan, but still no hangover. It was pretty close to perfect.