SPRING BREAK ON THE TURNPIKE

Spring break in Florida is a busy time and an interesting time. Traffic on the Turnpike picked up ten fold and kept this old semi retired woman hopping. Most of my co workers complained when it got busy but I loved it. The day was more interesting and time really flew. I enjoyed my customers.

You know, I am sure cars full of girls came through but I only remember the cars full of young men, wearing their college colors with pride and anticipation. There were three distinct groups who came through the toll booths, depending on the particular stage of the spring break.

When it would start, the young men were so full of promise. It was not unlikely for them to perform at least 3 high fives over some hilarious comment while waiting for change in my lane. Fist bumping wasn't in fashion yet.

I am certain I may have been the butt of a joke or two. Probably they were hoping I wasn't an example of what to expect on the beaches but most often it was just high spirits unleashed. I may have reminded them of a favorite grandmother for they would often linger at my window for a touch of home, a kind smile and information. Then merrily off to adventure they went.

Money flowed freely. Each passenger would wave a twenty trying to be the one to pay. "Let me pay, no let me, you bought gas." The generosity was refreshing till I remembered it was Mom and Dad's money. They were convinced they had enough to have a time they would grin about for years.

I wouldn't take too many days before that fun stage would shift to a lower gear. For a while it looked like we might have given the state back to the Indians for car after car came through with red faced boys gingerly trying to avoid the seat backs. Sunburn insists on really good posture with zero contact of any material.

Often their eyes matched their faces. Seems no one packed sunscreen and the previous nights inhaling of alcohol had made them a bit bloody eyed, tired and cranky. The bloom was off the rose. Exuberance had turned to painful gloom as heads hurt and stomachs churned. There were occasional high fives but usually the hands only connected with air.

I had no doubts however, when ever they got where they were going, the return of drink and thrill of the chase would dull the sunburn pain, steady the stomach and kill the headache. Happiness would again rule. When I saw them however I was in the middle of the state and they had a way to go for rebirth at a new site.

At this stage they tried to hide from my white haired granny image. They were a tad embarrassed. Instead of light hearted banter, they muttered and studied the floor mats. I bathed them in my sweetest smile and told them to have a good day. They paid with tens rather grudgingly and no one fought over the toll.

Then time for spring break passed and they were heading home. The sunburn had morphed into pieces of skin hanging from their foreheads. The dreaded peal that made acne look healthy.

They were still wearing their school colors but the school shirts were wrinkled, sweat stained , with a touch of mustard crusted with sand. They no longer had pained looks however but wore blissful if exhausted expressions. Each one thought he had experienced the best time of his life. They were tired but a happy tired.

Then I burst their bubble with a $3.25 toll. A bit of panic erased the blissful smiles. Each waited for the other to pony up but all was quiet. No more waving of twenties and tens, in fact, there were several pockets pulled inside out. Empty wallets were being pulled apart looking for a hidden twenty. Now if I were a good grandma type, I would have paid their toll but multiply that car by hundreds and grandma would have had to mortgage the farm.

All doors would fly open as they scrounged under the seats looking for stray quarters. The tolls were often paid in very sticky change. I tried not to think of the origin of "sticky." Many times, an impatient traveler behind them would offer to pay their toll just to get traffic moving. Perhaps they remembered their own spring break experience.

Eventually, they would all head home with the help of credit cards and with outlandish, decidedly embellished tales to tell. We were left with once more with the average tourist and commuter. Kind of missed the boys.

I never saw the Spring Breaker in his natural habitat. I only saw them when they were migrating. Such an interesting species.

Pretty sure I would not want anyone I cared about to participate in SB for good judgement never made the trip with them, but it seems to be a right of passage for college kids.

Did you enjoy SB or did you let your heirs participate? If they were young men, I may have seen them.