I've never liked spring break very well.
When I was a kid I loved the week off, but I always resented the jerks headed off to tropical or sub-tropical locations. My parents' idea of a good spring break location was the Smokies or the Ozarks.
Thanks a lot, guys.
(As an adult, I look back and realize Florida is overrated, except for Key West, and that I absolutely love the mountains. But I didn't feel that way then.)
Then there was college. I was always too poor to plan on going anywhere, so I'd just stay here in the cold early spring weather of Indiana and even the occasional late snowstorm. Those were fun times.
The only exception came my senior year, when I took a class trip to England. It was awesome, I won't deny that, but I now regret that I didn't spend a whole semester or year abroad.
After graduation, spring break became entirely meaningless. So kids and school employees get a week off? Big deal. I'm neither of those things.
It's been in my years in the newspaper business, though, that a special hatred has been reserved for this wretched week. Now, not only do I have to listen to stories of those headed to Fort Myers or Panama City or some other cookie-cutter Florida locale, I now have to be part of a team putting together a paper in a ghost town.
I'm not exaggerating when I say that things almost come to a standstill when a school break (besides summer) comes along. There's nothing to cover at the schools and nearly all of DePauw's 2,000-plus students are nowhere to be found.
It's like a ghost town.
But don't worry, soon enough graduation weekend and then fair week will be here, and I'll be complaining about having too much to do.
It's feast or famine in this line of work.