HIJINX ENSUE: Spring Broke – A Manifesto

I hate you.

Well, I probably don’t hate you exactly. In fact, for the three of you reading this who haven’t skipped town yet, you’re probably the only people I don’t hate. No, I hate those who have gone already to greener pastures. I hate everyone who is going somewhere interesting this “spring” (late winter) break, especially if it’s somewhere warm. And why do I hate them? Sheer, unbridled jealousy.

I’m not going to Cancun for spring break this year, nor have I ever gone. This year, I’m doing the same thing I do every year. I’m going home, I’m sleeping a lot and I’m playing video games. My only solace is this year I can play Final Fantasy X on my brother’s Playstation 2 while he’s at school all day. The game takes place largely in the imaginary tropical kingdom of Besaid, so it’s like I’m actually going away for Spring Break, but it involves slightly more fighting of monsters.

Not that I don’t want to go someplace exciting. I do. I don’t even want to take part in drunken debauchery or bring my video camera and make a quick buck selling footage to “Girls Gone Wild.” I’d just like to go lie down on a beach somewhere with my fiancÈe and relax. Unfortunately, I could never afford that scenario, even if I ingested nothing but Brita water for the next three months. That’s why I’m angry at all these kids charging thousand dollar vacations on their parents’ credit cards, while their parents never even notice because they imagine it must have gone to banking fees or gas for their SUVs. That’s right, boys and girls. It’s time for (commence nonsensical topic shift … now!) good, old-fashioned class conflict. Oy! (By the way, that’s the British punk “oy!” not the Jewish, whiny “oy!” Although that applies to this situation as well.)

Why class conflict? Because sometimes, being in the working class gets me down. Sometimes, I look at my hands and see the dirt and calluses that accumulate from four hard years at a work-study job in the marketing department of a theatre. It’s times like that when I feel the answer is communism. Not full-scale communism, mind you. That would be un-American, and I might want to fly on a plane sometime soon, so I can’t get that particular label attached to me. (This anti-establishment sentiment was brought to you by the Bush administration. The Bush administration: At least he’s not getting hummers.) Rather, I feel that the answer is university-wide communism. Come with me as I explain how it would work.

First of all, everyone living on campus who drives a car would immediately have their car repossessed and would be issued a T pass. The car would then be auctioned off and the proceeds used to buy Ben and Jerry’s ice cream for all the students on financial aid. I’d love my Chunky Monkey twice as much knowing it was paid for with a Long Islander’s Beamer. See how this works?

Secondly, there can be no ranks within our perfect society. All administrators will be taken out of office — and dealt with. Everyone is equal. To ensure this equality, I volunteer myself to be Supreme Overlord. You know, just until things get off the ground.

Thirdly, there’s a lack of school spirit around here, and I think that’s because our mascot is a little unimpressive. Don’t get me wrong. I love Rhett. I just think he’s missing a little punch that someone like, oh, say, me. Therefore, giant images of my head will be placed around campus. Also, tiny images of my head will be taped onto all the doves on the MLK memorial, hereafter known as the “Justin is Awesome” memorial.

Now, you may be asking yourself how this perfect world can come to pass. It won’t be easy. For starters, stage a walkout of some kind. I understand those are effective when you’re trying to call attention to something. However, just in case it doesn’t work, walk out during something unimportant instead of during finals. Like, if your TA is throwing a party during discussion section and brought candy for everybody, walk out, taking some candy with you. Promise not to return until there’s communism and more candy. Also, fill out President Westling’s online survey. For every fill-in-the-blank answer, write “communism,” unless it’s asking what’s wrong with the school. Then, write “lack of communism.”

While all this seems like a good idea to me now, it could just be that I’m cranky after a long week of papers, midterms and elevators screwing with me (something that happened disconcertingly often this week). Maybe instead of communism, all I really need is a vacation. Preferably somewhere that serves drinks with little umbrellas in them. If anyone would like to purchase me such a vacation, I’d be sure to remember your name when the revolution comes.