IMG_1308

It’s a new day. Yesterday didn’t count as an actual day in your life because you were so angry, tired and generally anxious that you were back at work. If you closed your eyes, you almost thought you could feel the sun on your face and the salt from that margarita hanging on your lips. But then you opened your eyes to see two co-workers staring at you as you licked your lips. Do better.

Depression, lack of motivation, and general “blahhh” are all signs that you just returned from your Adult Spring Break. What was once a week-long extended vacation of 30 people from college all doing exactly what you would be doing if you weren’t on spring break, the Adult Spring Break is capped at 3 days. These 72 hours are splitting at the seams with so many “activities” you plan on doing with 2-3  of your besties.

In order to prep for Adult Spring Break, you plan 3 months in advance so you don’t “waste a single minute.” You are organized with your hotel, check-in time and a list of hotel amenities. Gone are the days you walked into a hotel with a solo cup in your hand from the airport (Mexico has wonderful airport staff) with a portable speaker in the other hand blasting Swedish House Mafia, screaming, “YOOOOOO THIS PLACE IS SICK!” Now when you check-in to a hotel, you pull out a folder that holds all of your printed materials, while your 2-3 friends unload the car full of snacks.

Once you’re checked in, it’s time…..to get unpacked! Phew, now I feel better. Ok, let’s get a bathing suit on and head out to the pool. Sunscreen first! Great, now three hours have passed since arriving in the parking lot. The weekend is essentially halfway gone…so let’s TURN UP! You race down to the pool, where there is music blasting and a whole lot of people your age (23+). Now we’re talking! You spend the day (2 hours and 14 minutes) at the pool, sipping on drinks with umbrellas in them because you have no idea how much they cost but HEY IT’S YOUR FIRST DAY HERE SO LET’S RIDE. 

user_070915_baby-pool

Instead of fraternizing with people your age, you somehow gravitate towards the “family section” of the pool and find yourself holding a 7 month old baby while talking about C-sections with the baby’s mom. What. Are. You. Doing? Put the baby down and get a grip. Well don’t actually put the baby down, hand her/he/it back to its mother. Now that you realize babies aren’t on your personal agenda for at least 32 more years, you finally get in some dancing time. But dear god, you are STARVING.

You race to get ready with friends while blasting the same music as the pool. No one admits that they want to nap. But everyone is DYING TO NAP. If you weren’t so hungry, you would be asleep. Do not sit down on the bed because you won’t wake up. It must be 9:30pm by now, right? Nope, 5:32pm. The sun isn’t even thinking of sleeping yet. One friend is the pusher to get everyone to dinner and don’t worry, you get there.  From there, the night is a blur of food, Uber XL’s, drinks, sitting, avoiding any one who could possibly become a new friend, and finally, the coveted collapse into bed.

You wake up the next morning at 7:15AM, just like you would for a work day, yippee! But the same vivacity of yesterday is gone, taken from you in the night while you dreamt about that baby from the pool. Your bounce-back isn’t what it used to be. You crawl into the day, slowly, half-heartedly repeating your day one. You embrace the idea of a nap. It’s justified because after all, you have one more day to rest up for. Fast forward to brunches, doing an “outdoor activity” and interacting with locals.

Now, it’s somehow your last day. Before you can even comprehend checking-out, you’re arriving at home with everything – including your soul- crumpled into your bag. You look at yourself in the mirror and sigh. You have work tomorrow morning and you won’t naturally wake up for it. A tear begins to form at the corner of your eye but you suck it back in like the big grown-up adult that you have become. 

Congratulations. You just had your first Adult Spring Break. Bring it on 4th of July.

e1130db1b0afd1cdf523ff32db1ebd35

(Not me)