Fellow students of the University, I have an important announcement to make. In case you have yet to emerge from the haze of your sixth night in a row spent drinking yourself into a stupor or nuzzling your face in the gentle bosom of your biology textbook, I am here to inform you that today marks the commencement of your spring break. That means it’s time to take a brief respite from your intoxicated revelry, board a discount flight and proceed with said revelry in a warmer climate.

Now, I know some of you are immediately forming your silly little objections. “But Andrew, my friend” you desperately plead, “Aren’t there ways to be both productive and have fun over this period via service-oriented organizations like Alternative Spring Break?” Well, first of all, I ask that you not refer to me as your friend, because all of my friends know to call me Bielak – so slow down there, hotshot. But more importantly, it seems all you ninnies and naysayers have yet to learn that helping others is for dweebs, so I’ll try to make you understand why my spring break – to put it simply – beats the living shit out of yours.

Let’s first start with the preparation. As any properly educated college student should realize, the spring break bylaws denote that one may not enter a sunny southern climate without logging at least 120 credit hours in the weight room and tanning salon. Many of us know that the human body is a temple, but what you may not know is that I’ve dedicated the past three months to sculpting myself into the sweetest temple this side of the Red Sea, complete with huge ivory pillars, stained-glass windows and other architectural flourishes that help my temple metaphor make sense.

After using my parent’s kick-ass credit card to purchase airline tickets, I will be boarding a plane headed south of the border to Mexico with approximately 250 of my closest friends. We’ll touch down in some resort town teeming with high-rise hotels and well-oiled college students like myself. Having never seen any other part of Mexico, I’ll assume that’s what the whole country looks like. Translation: Mexico rules.

I can only imagine what your next problem with my plan will be. “But Bielak, dude, you don’t even speak Mexican!” OK, well, I guess you’ve got a point there, but fortunately, in the few instances I plan on interacting with people outside of those from my inner circle of friends (all 250 of them), I’ll keep my trusty diccionario on hand. With this little pal of mine, I will have the ability to translate any word that could come up in casual conversation – bro, hospital or lawsuit, for instance – and spell it out clearly for any jerk that doesn’t speak my language. If that fails, I suppose I can always talk really loudly and aggressively in English while making exaggerated hand gestures that don’t really have anything to do with what I’m saying.

Once we finally get proper directions to the nearest beach, you can probably imagine what we’re going to do – no, not sit under the sun and bronze my pectoral muscles . no, not chug a cooler full of Coronas and pass out in a pool of my own vomit . no, not – hey, hold on a second, I’m trying to explain. While these other pastimes will undoubtedly be considered and most likely carried through, my beach experience will truly reach its pinnacle when I run shirtless across the glistening sands as my friend blasts the Baywatch theme song from a boombox he’ll have hoisted upon his shoulder. We’ve been conducting dry runs of this scene for about three months now, and although both of us got a little skittish in dress rehearsal last week, I have faith that we can pull it off.

Now, though I’m not entirely sure how my nights will be occupied and don’t plan on remembering them afterwards, I can fill you in a little bit – let’s just say that they will involve “making out indiscriminately” with people whose “names I don’t know” followed by “blacking out” in the “basement of an abandoned warehouse.”

So you heard it here, kids – my spring break will unequivocally rock out like none that has that rocked before. All its wonderful moments of drunkenness will be discussed over other moments of drunkenness while my friends and I play beer pong. Facebook groups will be created in commemoration of its awesomeness. And if you’re still scratching your head, wondering what makes my plans unmatched in their brilliance and giving me that pathetic “I’m still confused” look, then the only thing I have left to offer you is my pity. Some people just don’t get it.

Bielak can be reached at anbielak@umich.edu

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