Op-Ed: “Happy birthday, Dick,” said Spring Break, to me

As spring break rolls around once again at Emory, I watch from my dorm room window. I remember when spring break had sprung, and people slowly dispersed through these now-empty streets, separating into their respective groups, ready for their lovely getaway. “What about you?” you might be asking me right now. Well, about a week ago my plans fell through. While my friends are now going on various breaks across the country, I sit here in my room.

Day One:  

As I blast my speakers, I still remain in my room, three days out from my birthday.

Day Two:

I’ve been living around other people for so long now that I forget the sensation of being truly alone. Do other humans still even exist? Maybe I am the last alive. What a pity.

Day Two and a Half:

I feel productive, maybe I’ll read a book! As I slowly search around my room I realize that I no longer live at home where books were readily available. I come to the conclusion that libs is too far away, and that books are stupid. Instead of reading, I decide to order ubereats and binge netflix, as I sit here, over spring break, alone, two days out from my birthday.

Day Three:

I wake up from my $60 food coma, covered in dried lo mein. I had dreamt of a sunny beach, next to a beautiful girl. She smiled at me, and that smile was familiar. It comes to me… she had delivered me the lo mein.

It’s early in the morning, the Netflix queue has gone through the show I was watching, the one after that, and has decided that I’m very into spanish soap operas. I sigh, sitting up. maybe I should get on top of homework. Netflix continues to roll the dramas of Santiago and Maria, through the night. I just keep thinking that I should probably start homework.

Day Four:

The homework didn’t even get downloaded from Canvas, but it’s okay! The day has finally come, and I’m unwilling to let it be a waste! I quickly think of a list: the best ways to celebrate my birthday, and the first up is obviously sushi. I quickly order an uber to Emory Village from Few hall– a totally reasonable expenditure in my head. When I get enter, I’m alone in Wagaya. A hungover DTD brother in my Calc 200 class comes over to serve me. “It’s actually my birthday!” I say with a hopeful voice. “Yeah mine too, you’re not getting a piece of fucking cake.” He says walking away. I look down and sip on my lukewarm miso, as I sit here, over spring break, alone, on my birthday.

Next I go to the movie theater, and while moral is low, I have a solution! In efforts to save the lost day, I sneak a flask into the theater. I buy a large coke, but the flask only fills up 1/12 of the cup. I ponder how this must have bad implications on our society’s future health, as I savor my concoction. I don’t remember much past the first 10 minutes of Peter Rabbit.

Day Four and a Half:

As I regain consciousness, I realize that in my blacked-out state, I attempted to recreate my favorite birthday. I’m in a Chuck-E-Cheese screaming at the top of my lungs at a 5 year old in a monkey onesie. “SERIOUSLY TIMMY, FUCKING MUSHROOMS ON PIZZA? WHAT THE FUCK TIMMY? WHAT KIND OF MONSTER ENJOYS MUSHROOMS BEFORE PUBERTY??!?” I am ashamed, mostly of Timmy but somewhat of myself too. From the edge of my drunken periphery, I see security storming my way. Thankfully I have a ball pit and tube system to let me escape! They’ll never catch me!

10 Minutes Later:

They caught me, and now I sit in a hard detainment cell in the basement of Chuck-E-Cheese. While my friends lie in their childhood bedrooms, or on a warm sandy beach, I slowly am getting cramps in parts of my body I previously thought were unable to do so. Suddenly the security guard walks to the gate, I brace myself for the scolding I know I deserve. “Hey kid, you managed not to do any physical damage to any customers or property so we’re just gonna act like this never happened. Oh, and we had to confiscate your ID when we got you down here. Happy birthday!”

The burly man hands me a piece of cake. Looking at it, I remind myself that my sixth birthday climaxed with me going to the hospital for mono. “Honestly, not the worst birthday ever” I think to myself, as I sit here, with a Chuck-E-Cheese security guard, over spring break, eating cake, on my birthday.