How I Spent My Summer Vacation
Summer vacation is the stuff of dreams. In elementary school it’s a lifetime of water balloon fights and slowly driving your parents crazy. Once you hit high school, it’s a chance to make some cash for the school year by working as many odd jobs as possible. By the time you move on to college, it’s either summer jobs to keep the debt manageable or internships so you can hopefully nail down a job after graduating.
Once you graduate, though, there’s no more summer vacation. Sure, there are occasional Flex Fridays and no summer is complete without a nice 4th of July weekend. But three months of free time to spend as you wish? Nope. That’s gone.
Me, I have no pretension toward excitement and simply choose to accept the reality of lost summer vacations. But there are others who still try to find their own little piece of summer vacation in between the mundane rigors of real life. Maybe it’s a weekend share in the Hamptons. Perhaps you follow in the footsteps of Mr. Lung and attempt to watch 5 baseball games at a time every evening. Or maybe you go a little more extreme.
For instance, Londoners decided to burn down their city as a way of celebrating their summer freedom.
Or like Chris Jeon who decided to join the Libyan rebels during his summer break. He may not speak any Arabic and he may not know how to carry a gun but he’s got spirit and that’s half the battle, right? Let’s be honest, for a 21-year old math student in California, this has to be the highlight of a life whose decisions up til now have mainly consisted of burrito fillings. And what’s with the polyester jersey?
At least others dress up appropriately for their adventures. I’m sure these guys had mothers who told them that if you’re going to be launching yourself 30 feet into the air over a pond, it’s probably a good idea to wear a helmet:
You know, come to think of it, Jeff might actually have the right idea. At least watching baseball games in the safety of your own home helps lower the possibility of being shot by a Gaddafi loyalist or getting hit in the face by a foul ball. There’s something to be said for that.