“It will only cost $500, all inclusive. Flight, room, food …”
There was a brief pause.
“Oh, plus drinks, yea. So like $1000.”
The source of the conversation was an innocent looking petite in a baggy Cornell sweatshirt, clutching a calculus textbook unable to fit in her jam-packed Jansport backpack.
I immediately knew she was planning her spring break. Spring break: the consummate week of sun, sand and “romance.” The week students from across the country “dance” intimately with strangers in unrestricted, inebriated revelry on national television. The one-week revolt against the rigor of the American education system — book learning swept rudely from the altar, replaced by carnal knowledge.