My Spring Break

The big question buzzing around campus last week was, “Where should I go for Spring Break?” The beach was getting old and, after last year’s run in with the candiru, I refused to return to South America. So this year I loaded up my van and headed somewhere beautiful, quiet and filled with dozens of single women—a nunnery.

Most convents do not allow handsome Baptist boys to visit, but the Georgia College Drag Show taught me the art of camouflage. I could not pass up such a low-cost vacation spot. I practically flew over the stone walls and joined the sisters for a week of spiritual cleansing and volleyball. To keep suspicions at a minimum, I ventured under the alias Sister Mary Luscious Wit.

When I was not sunbathing my face or showing my ankles to attract the opposite sex, there were plenty of recreational activities to keep my hands from growing idle. Making rosaries during craft time sounded exciting and I heard the Catholics practically give them away, unlike the Mardi Gras heathens who make tourists work for their souvenirs. When we ran out of beads, the choir worked on a new show to attract community members on Sunday morning and I knew I could be the white Whoopi Goldberg who transformed these shy celibates into stars. Within seven days, the girls learned every “Rocky Horror Picture Show” number and the art of whipping their veils back and forth. We became famous and after hours of grueling rehearsals, the girls and I relaxed by watching “March of the Penguins.”

The last and most exciting part of this excursion unfolded Saturday night when I invited the local college kids over for a good, old-fashioned rave. Of course, my new friends and I abstained from dancing because I firmly believed chaperoning a room full of neon strangers will be equally as adventurous. I was right. With ruler in hand, we kept strict count of every party foul and watched as the future of America indulged in good, Christian fun. Somewhere between the hymns, Hennessy and habits, I prayed two young people would lock eyes from across the room and get married so they could indulge in the magic of a first kiss. Not only did I make memories, but I helped other do the same.

This Spring Break I gave back to my fellow man and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Keep your beer. Keep your boats. Keep your bail bondsman.  While my peers roamed the beaches, I proved fun can be as simple as black and white.

Posted by Steve Holbert on Apr 2 2011. Filed under Opinion. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.