But I digress...
This year, I have, to date, decided not to go anywhere for spring break. Ok. I admit. I didn't decide this. My bank account sort of decided this for me. Usually by October I am already daydreaming of being on spring break and usually end up booking a trip to Hawaii. This year, the craziness that typically encompasses work hasn't really happened, and so the actual need for me to get away isn't there. I still want to go somewhere though. I am even considering going to Massachusetts just to get away. Did I just say that? Massachusetts? In March? I must be crazy, right? However, it would benefit me in one big way - I can buy all of those t-shirts from Fall River haunts that I have been thinking about since I threw away all of my striped polo shirts, minus the three that I kept (it was too hard to get rid of all of them). Every New Year I make the same old resolution to spice things up a bit and to change my fashion. And every year I fail. This could be my year to make good on that promise. I am, after all, sober. And therefore, bored, which means I can focus on this project. I also need to get a pair of jeans, but that has been on the back burner for quite some time, so you can gauge how quickly I will move on this endeavor.
Me, at the age of 12, at the Grand Canyon for Spring Break.
For the past 7 years, I have gone somewhere for spring break - the favorite of which has been Hawai'i. If Mexico didn't burn me (literally), maybe it would be in contention. My spring break vacation obsession started with a road trip I took with Curtis and Harper. Our destination was the Grand Canyon. That was actually really fun even though the weather sucked. I booked hotels on-line following a planned-out route that I made with the help of my AAA road trip advisor. This was before the world wide web became really popular and took over all of their jobs. Anyway, our first leg of the trip took us to Ventura, CA, where they grow strawberries. Everyone...remember this. Strawberries in Ventura, CA in late March are in season. And delicious! We bought a trunk load which eventually rotted. Then we went to Vegas, which Curtis hated. We then headed to the Hoover Dam, which I was obsessed with. Let it be known everyone that I LOVE THE HOOVER DAM! Then we went to Flagstaff, AZ, which was a bit of a homecoming for me. (Short-story side-note: Driving cross-country about 3 years earlier, Joan cooked her oil just outside of Flagstaff, forcing me to stop and hang out at the mall for two hours while she took a break.) The one big thing I remember about Flagstaff was going to Macy's Coffee Shop (not affiliated with the department store) and spilling my coffee each and every time thanks to Curtis' car's automatic seatbelt system. You think I'd learn a lesson after the first time. It happened three times. We went to the Grand Canyon, saw Sedona (and stole a red rock - shhhhh!), and then drove off to our next stop, beautiful Barstow, California. I recommend it to no one, except truck drivers and train engineers. Yes, this road trip was what kicked off my spring break vacation obsession.
The next school year, I started my teaching gig in the public school system in San Francisco. I was put in charge of creating a pilot program for high school students with "high-functioning" autism, soon to realize that the district had no clue what that meant. This job was the straw that broke the camel's back for me. By mid September, I was ready for retirement, only to find out that I had 24 years and 11 months to go before I could even consider it. I had law-suits aplenty to deal with (all of which were not caused by me), which means they were watching me like vultures. Talk about stress. Clearly, I needed a break. I needed, SPRING BREAK! In September! This is how Hawai'i soon became my destination of choice. Hawai'i means sop much more to me because of what it allowed me to do that first year on the job. It allowed me to escape the craziness, relax, and get a tan. It was so good at doing this that I returned for three more spring breaks, with a trip to Mexico in between one of them. I vowed always to go somewhere tropical and warm with a beach for spring break. Every spring break. So what happened this year? I blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol - or lack there of. I don't feel the NEED for it. That, and I'm broke.
I've come to terms (sort of) with the fact that this year I have nothing planned. I'm not going anywhere. As of right now, anyway. I was toying with the idea of going to the Florida Keys, but no one can go, my sister who lives in Florida just got a job, and now she's pregnant. The nerve! All of that, coupled with the fact that I am broke, quickly cancelled those plans. Then, the other day, I started to get a bit antsy about spring break. I want to go somewhere. This can't be the year that I stay home and not do anything, and then regret that I didn't do anything. I had an epiphany. I got to thinking about what would be cheap, slightly entertaining, and would also serve a purpose (kind of like my rules for gift-giving). I was thinking realistically, which is rare. I don't NEED a vacation, as I did in the past. I WANT a vacation. What I NEED is shirts.
Aha! Massachusetts. To be more specific, Fall River. No. This is not your typical spring break destination. Nor should it be your destination for anything, except probably for my purpose of needing to go there for t-shirts. In the summer of 2010, while Curtis was away, running around in Germany, I had the urge to clean house. It was time for a change. I went through my closets and purged them of almost all of my clothes, which meant no more striped polo shirts. All but three striped polo shirts went to Goodwill, where I am almost certain they burned them in some ritual led by Carley and Sofia. They have been trying to get me to change my style for years. I kind of had/have a reputation as that guy who wore/wears striped polo shirts. I think Suzette started making fun of me a few years back, which made me aware of just how many striped polo shirts I actually owned and how they were a uniform of sorts. Anyway, that Old Matt was about to change...his shirts. Fast-forward to the present day. Here I am, typing away at the computer, and I still have not purchased any new clothes other than shoes, jeans, socks, a sweatshirt, and a few coats. No shirts. Maybe I need some counselling for my issues about shirts given my history with striped polos. Or maybe I need to bite the bullet and go to Fall River to buy new shirts.
The decision to go to Fall River to buy t-shirts from local businesses is many-fold. Here is my rationale:
1. It will help stimulate the local economy, which in my memory has always sucked.
2. It will prompt sparkling conversation, but only with those who know where the hell Fall River is, or is actually from Fall River, which means, my inner circle, which means we will have plenty to talk about.
3. It will get Sam off my back. He's not really on my back, but he did mention to me while he was completely wasted at Sofia's birthday party that striped polo shirts suck. Thanks Sam...now I do need therapy.
4. Buying and wearing these shirts will allow me to live down memory lane without actually living down memory lane, because if I had to live in Fall River, I might shoot myself.
And finally,
5. It will give my only other Fall River t-shirt (from Battleship Cove) company. It's been feeling lonely.
You know the saying, "Tell 'em where ya been with a t-shirt."? My motto will be more like, "Tell 'em where you'd rather not be with a t-shirt.". I may not be able to suggest Fall River as a destination location, but I'm sure I'll have something ridiculous to tell people about.
Who wouldn't rather be here? (And if anyone says, "me", they're lying.)
The next school year, I started my teaching gig in the public school system in San Francisco. I was put in charge of creating a pilot program for high school students with "high-functioning" autism, soon to realize that the district had no clue what that meant. This job was the straw that broke the camel's back for me. By mid September, I was ready for retirement, only to find out that I had 24 years and 11 months to go before I could even consider it. I had law-suits aplenty to deal with (all of which were not caused by me), which means they were watching me like vultures. Talk about stress. Clearly, I needed a break. I needed, SPRING BREAK! In September! This is how Hawai'i soon became my destination of choice. Hawai'i means sop much more to me because of what it allowed me to do that first year on the job. It allowed me to escape the craziness, relax, and get a tan. It was so good at doing this that I returned for three more spring breaks, with a trip to Mexico in between one of them. I vowed always to go somewhere tropical and warm with a beach for spring break. Every spring break. So what happened this year? I blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol - or lack there of. I don't feel the NEED for it. That, and I'm broke.
I've come to terms (sort of) with the fact that this year I have nothing planned. I'm not going anywhere. As of right now, anyway. I was toying with the idea of going to the Florida Keys, but no one can go, my sister who lives in Florida just got a job, and now she's pregnant. The nerve! All of that, coupled with the fact that I am broke, quickly cancelled those plans. Then, the other day, I started to get a bit antsy about spring break. I want to go somewhere. This can't be the year that I stay home and not do anything, and then regret that I didn't do anything. I had an epiphany. I got to thinking about what would be cheap, slightly entertaining, and would also serve a purpose (kind of like my rules for gift-giving). I was thinking realistically, which is rare. I don't NEED a vacation, as I did in the past. I WANT a vacation. What I NEED is shirts.
Move along now...nothing here to see people. Or is there...
Aha! Massachusetts. To be more specific, Fall River. No. This is not your typical spring break destination. Nor should it be your destination for anything, except probably for my purpose of needing to go there for t-shirts. In the summer of 2010, while Curtis was away, running around in Germany, I had the urge to clean house. It was time for a change. I went through my closets and purged them of almost all of my clothes, which meant no more striped polo shirts. All but three striped polo shirts went to Goodwill, where I am almost certain they burned them in some ritual led by Carley and Sofia. They have been trying to get me to change my style for years. I kind of had/have a reputation as that guy who wore/wears striped polo shirts. I think Suzette started making fun of me a few years back, which made me aware of just how many striped polo shirts I actually owned and how they were a uniform of sorts. Anyway, that Old Matt was about to change...his shirts. Fast-forward to the present day. Here I am, typing away at the computer, and I still have not purchased any new clothes other than shoes, jeans, socks, a sweatshirt, and a few coats. No shirts. Maybe I need some counselling for my issues about shirts given my history with striped polos. Or maybe I need to bite the bullet and go to Fall River to buy new shirts.
The decision to go to Fall River to buy t-shirts from local businesses is many-fold. Here is my rationale:
1. It will help stimulate the local economy, which in my memory has always sucked.
2. It will prompt sparkling conversation, but only with those who know where the hell Fall River is, or is actually from Fall River, which means, my inner circle, which means we will have plenty to talk about.
3. It will get Sam off my back. He's not really on my back, but he did mention to me while he was completely wasted at Sofia's birthday party that striped polo shirts suck. Thanks Sam...now I do need therapy.
4. Buying and wearing these shirts will allow me to live down memory lane without actually living down memory lane, because if I had to live in Fall River, I might shoot myself.
And finally,
5. It will give my only other Fall River t-shirt (from Battleship Cove) company. It's been feeling lonely.
Battleship Cove, with the Braga Bridge, which is about to be painted blue.
You know the saying, "Tell 'em where ya been with a t-shirt."? My motto will be more like, "Tell 'em where you'd rather not be with a t-shirt.". I may not be able to suggest Fall River as a destination location, but I'm sure I'll have something ridiculous to tell people about.
Fall River for your Spring Break? That is not in the spirit of spring break.... (please refer to Arrested Development re: this issue)
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