Combat Zone

Spring break approaches, promises thrills galore

Ahhhhh…it has begun. Or, in the words of eminent philosopher and scholar J. Franco, “Spring break, spring break, spring break forevahhh….”

Most agree that what happens over spring break stays there, and so in anticipation of your post-break closed-mouthedness, we at The Flail have decided to interview the few of us that are actually leaving Tacoma to get their story before the evidence disappears from Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, texts from Mom and university webmail accounts (we don’t actually know why you’d bother with Outlook Express over Spring Break; we’re just trying to be democratic here).

Flopsy Cottontail, a cheerful, interspecies co-ed  who just pledged to join one of campus’s fine sororities said, “I’m going for a Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas inspired spring break. Either that or The Rum Diaries.”

I was impressed, to say the least, “Wow! That’s a pretty hardcore existential program you’ve got planned there. Not to mention you’ll probably need new internal organs before you can start the second week of mid-terms.”

Cottontail looked confused. Or at least I think she looked confused because I’ve never actually met the rabbit; besides I heard she has fleas.

Plus, I’m lazy so in the interest of full disclosure yes we were corresponding over Webmail.

Her reply: “Oh! …well I’ve never actually seen the movies, but I heard Johnny Depp was in them! So, like, Johnny Depp is going to be my main focus. I’ve missed out on pop-culture for like the last decade and a half so I’ll be spending Spring Break watching all his old movies.”

After resetting the password to my Outlook account multiple times (I tried “SCROOBNUCKET-Q10”, “WASHBOTTLE999”, and “EXBAKSTHREE60” but it didn’t like any of those probably because you need at least ten special characters and a lowercase letter and I hate lowercase letters!) I didn’t have the heart to respond to Cottontail’s emails, so if you see her in the S.U.B., point her in the direction of where all the rum has gone posthaste.

An English major, who has asked to remain unnamed in this article, confided in me one afternoon as he hid the latest issue of Batman from behind The Brother’s Karamazov, “This spring break, I’m going to read…a book.”

He seemed to anticipate my scathing response, because he quickly added, “No no no! Not a real book…I’m going to read a book…” he leaned in and whispered, sotto voce, “for fun.”

I gasped in horror. “You wouldn’t dare!”

He nodded grimly. “I do. In fact, I plan to read Fifty Shades of Grey at least three times before Saturday rolls around, just for the contrast. There are too many ideas and not enough sex in Russian literature.”

I almost head-desked it right then but then I remembered I had this article to write. The things we do for ahhhhttttt…

In an attempt to provide y’alls with a more traditional spring break story, I found the most vitamin-D deprived kid on campus and, after making her chug a gallon of Sunny-D, asked her about her plans.

“Well…” she said slowly as she attempted to scrub the orange stains out of her shirt (hahaha they’ll never come out! Sunny-D is like a way of life, or religion, or Russia: you don’t drink it, it drinks you. Wait that was supposed to be an invasion metaphor…damnit Ukraine. Too soon?), “I’m going down to Southern Cali to get as sunburned as I possibly can so that when I return, I’ll at least have physical proof that the sun actually exists.”

After shrugging off the intense body-cringe I had at hearing her say, “Cali,” I shouted with the violence of a thousand splendid suns, “LIES. There is no sun! It’s just an illusion created by the Matrix. I’m on a horse.”

And galloped away from the burning dredges of this article. To the heights!