The week of spring break, my Instagram became a flurry of Panama City Beach photos rife with red cups, neon bikinis, and spring break hashtags. As I sat, laid, and lounged in my apartment, the whole week of spring break featuring varying poses of relaxed, I quickly grew bored. My sister had come home from Virginia Tech only to leave me for Boston and my girlfriend (a Pre-K teacher) was at work. So I putzed around my apartment for a few days, engaging in way too much TLC, and made it to Friday. I was convinced my break was over and decided to accept my fate.
But then, the prospect of going to my girlfriend’s hometown of Williamsburg arose. I am a diehard Williamsburg fan or CW (short for Colonial Williamsburg) as the townies call it. Something about the sweet little downtown, the people walking around dressed in colonial garb, and the fact that it’s always a few degrees warmer there calls my name; not to mention Sarah’s welcoming family and eccentric Jack Russell named Maci. We left as soon as Sarah got out of school and hit the open road with a bag of mini starbursts and our sun glasses.
We arrived around six and were greeted by a hyperventilating canine and two excited parents. The weekend was not characterized by sun tanning or partying, but it offered up some unexpected pleasantries like finding a steal of a second hand orange couch for our new apartment and strolling along the York River State Park beach under a surprisingly warm sun. The beach was littered with other couples and families toting unwieldy dogs and children, hoping to soak up as much vitamin D as possible before the storm hit. We finished out the weekend with mango margaritas and tex-mex with Sarah’s parents before heading home Sunday. We made it just in time to sit inside and pray for a snow day. The moral of the story? Next time you find yourself without spring break plans (or the money to make plans), consider exploring good old Williamsburg, Virginia instead of trekking all the way to Florida.