Welcome to Happy Hour at Reed My Writing. My name is J.R. and this is my place. Thursday is my day off and I’m bringing in some great guest bartenders to run the place in my absence. Each month there is a new theme and I let the bartender concoct their signature “drink” to serve you, my wonderful guests.
I only have two rules here. Fun is to be had by all and please don’t urinate in the parking lot. I’m speaking to the ladies as well as the dudes.
Today’s guest bartender is the one and only Chopper Papa who brings his readers,
HIGH OCTANE OBSERVATIONS ON FATHERHOOD, RELATIONSHIPS, DIVORCE, AND OTHER INTELLECTUAL ROADKILL
If you don’t know this recovering backwoods redneck, then be sure to check out his blog when you’re done reading about how a redneck spent spring break ’92.
Spring Break – Redneck Style
Springtime in the south is supremely special. After being locked up for months on end enduring sub 50-degree weather the first sound of birds and the running of your neighbor’s lawnmower is enough to make us all square dance for joy. As a college student in the south once the halls of academia reopen in early January for another semester of quadratic equations and keg parties, all anticipation falls on one week – Spring Break.
Much like today, as a college student in the Southern United States in the early 90’s, I could point to only two destinations where to adequately drink myself into oblivion for seven days – Daytona Beach or Panama City. Though sitting on opposite coasts of Florida and six or so hours apart, they may as well be lost inbred sisters.
Southerners have a name for this part of the country – the Redneck Riviera. The moniker is chosen based on two characteristics. It’s as close to an actual Riviera as most of us will ever see and on any given weekend Rednecks the world over converge on these Meccas in their four-wheel drives, with their overalls, and mullets. Panama City Beach was my choice for Spring Break throughout college, primarily due to logistics. One could effectively drive the entire distance and stop only once to pee.
Spring Break is the only time in my life where I have ever shared a bed with another man. The thought today makes me a bit uncomfortable and I can’t believe I just shared that with you all. And I should note that I did not sleep in the room every night. In this case there were four of us, all fraternity brothers and all anxious to see what potential immorality we could find for ourselves. Because this was before Facebook and cell phones any ‘friends’ we might have made were quickly forgotten by the time we reached the Florida state line.
My last Spring Break was 1992, I was barely twenty-one and finally free to buy drinks for as many nineteen-year-old girls as I could find. Even twenty years later the pinnacle of spring break in Panama City remains Spinnakers and Club La Vela. Both are sprawling complexes of under aged drinking and douchery on an epic scale with a cover charge that borders on extortion.
For me, the most lasting memory for my Spring Break finale was MTV and the incessant playing of the first mainstream ‘grunge’ rock song. This tune would usher the age of stringy haired, plaid wearing, Seattleites.
Forever, Pearl Jam’s ‘Alive’ will be my quintessential Spring Break song. And the fact it’s twenty years old makes me want to do a keg stand to prove that I still can.
Does rock get any better than this, really?!?
Now that you’ve seen how this Papa rolls, check out more of his great stuff at ChopperPapa.com and on Twitter. Tell him J.R. sent you.