Because You Never Asked

     The phenomenon alluded to in the title of this essay has already been touched upon briefly in this mass of dubious philosophical patter, most conspicuously in the piece entitled "Beer". This is not surprising, for although there is beer without Spring Break, there is no Spring Break without beer, which would be something like Spring Training without baseballs.

     Spring Break is currently inundating my town like a storm driven sea washing over a sand bar. Its effects are devastating and cannot be ignored.

     The annual punctuality of this invasion, along with the predictable uniformity of its vast sweep of participation, at first seemed analogous in my mind to the annual arrival of the millions of brightly colored Monarch butterflies to the Mexican State of Michoacan. Upon further reflection, I felt guilt in making such an analogy, because the Mexican butterfly happening is one of the most uniquely spectacular displays of natural beauty this planet has to offer. It is an unforgettable experience that becomes a milestone for anyone who sees it. In comparing this to the Spring Break experience, whose generic conformity has all the boring impact of 500 miles of flat, treeless, Argentine pampas, it has been done a great injustice.

     In trying to make sense of the Spring Break phenomenon, it must be described in a sexually segregated way. The event is divided into separate gender packs of boys and girls that stalk and circle each other like the sly predator canines of the African plains. Quite frequently, in their rapacious quest for lascivious contact, these separate boy-girl hunting groups will temporarily merge and socialize, somewhat blurring the contours of the normal Spring Break social structure. However, in almost all instances, this primary structure will reappear and retreat into their separate spheres of gender organization, be it in motels, pizza joints, RV's, or packs of delirious moped insolence. Only in rare instances, and under cover of the murky environment of the bars they frequent, where they are drowned in tidal waves of beer and the sadistic pounding of what is referred to as music, will a bold heterosexual pair escape their home packs, generally retuning the next morning with a smile on their faces. Amongst the boys, this is formally referred to as "scoring", and such returnee will now be treated with increased esteem by the fellow members of his pack.

     In trying to describe the physical appearance of your average Breaker (actually, the term "average Breaker" is redundant), this boy-girl segregation is somewhat irrelevant. Except for the obvious anatomical differences associated with each sex, their style and mode of dress is almost identical. This wardrobe includes shorts or cutoffs of muted colors, tee shirts and either sandals, loafers or sneakers. This uniformity in dress is further compounded by an almost perfect, goose-stepping synchronization with regard to hairstyle, though "style" is far too strong a word for something with all the impact of a television screen with the set shut off. The girls have ponytails and the boys short hair along with a seemingly strict prohibition against facial growth of any kind. Both sexes show a propensity for baseball caps, though this is more prevalent amongst the boys. In spite of an endless variety of colors (mostly muted colors) and logos, these caps are so similar as to render this variety almost superfluous. It's relevant to note that many of the boys wear them backwards. Could this be some form of subliminal rebellion lying dormant under this glassy surface of oceanic conformity? (When a girl Breaker wears a cap backwards, there might be a lesbian future lurking.)

     This vanilla flavored monotony is so unbroken, it must be assumed that any collegian operating outside this code of appearance cannot find a ride to Spring Break, or is about to quit school and become a poet.

     If one is to truly examine Spring Break in its entirety, some mention of the antipathy felt for the Breakers by those who live in a Spring Break destination, must be mentioned. This resentment is a muddy river of confused feelings, some of which has something to do with social class. The Breakers represent privilege in our society, and there is always mixed feelings for those who can gratuitously enjoy such a vacation without having earned it. But underneath such sociological muck, which many people don't understand or can't sufficiently express to themselves, is something more banal and more difficult to admit.

     The Breakers remind many of us that we are not as young as we used to be.

     The participants in Spring Break arrive to us while entering the springtime of their physical development. With the help of their respectable lineage, they are like flowers and trees that have been nurtured and cared for with the most attention and best fertilizer. This massive concentration of toned bodies and flat stomachs, of firm breasts and buttocks that defy the effects of gravity in spite of the crudest, most irresponsible nacho-burger decadence, can be rather disconcerting for those of us who have reached the "Ibuprophene" stage of our lives, who have to regularly stretch our fiber glass knees and aching hips just to be able to use them, who have to "eat right" just to maintain the barest facsimile of the human form. Such a blatant reminder of what we once were and will never be again, can be a daunting psychological test for anyone. For a variety of reasons --- the noise, traffic, boorish behavior, etc --- I've never been fond of Spring Break. But this peacock-like display of springtime youth and vigor is the cruelest cut of all. After a month of this onslaught, it's a relief to get rid of them.