Hollywood has portrayed spring break to be a coming of age pilgrimage mandatory for all college students at some point before graduation. So in March 1998, my senior year, I decided to embark on this mythical journey.
Our friends were driving down, but being in a car for 18 hours seemed crazy, so some of us decided to fly down. Our travel agent said there were no flights into Panama City, so we would have to fly into Tallahassee. He assured us it was a 30 minute cab ride away, so we figured no big deal.
We flew out of Newark NJ, with a connection flight into Raleigh NC. Once in NC, we had to switch to a 20 person propeller plane (I forgot to mention, I hate flying). At one point, I didn’t think I could get on the plane, but my buddies were there to “encourage” me by calling me names that challenged my manhood, so I begrudgingly agreed. The ride was very bumpy the whole way there, and at some point I let out a yelp to the amusement of the other passengers – not my finest moment.
Once we got into Tallahassee, we hailed a cab. The cabby looked at us like we were crazy when we told him to take us to Panama City. It is here, that we learned Panama City is 106 miles away, and that our only option was by bus. The cabby dropped off at the bus depot, which was located in a very rough area of the city. My friends and I sat in silence while we eagerly awaited the bus to arrive to start our 2 ½ hour journey. We kept telling ourselves it would all be worth it.
Once we got to the next bus stop, we came to the realization that we were still 30 minutes outside town – with no cabs in sight (and this is before everyone had cell phones). A guy overhead us talking, and approached us with a proposition. For 20 bucks each, he would drive us to our hotel. As we approached his very shady car (think of the car your parents told you to never get into), I whispered to my friends to be ready to jump out of the car in case this guy was a maniac.
Finally, we arrived at our hotel. The rooms of course were nothing like the brochure, but at this point, we could care less. We were finally here, and there were girls and keg and stations galore. A 21 year olds dream!
Oh by the way, turns out it was the coldest week in Panama City history. To give you an idea, the average temp in March is 71 degrees – and one day we hit the record low of 23 degrees (which still stands). Regardless of this cold streak, the girls were still hitting the beach in their 2 piece bikinis – so at the end of the day, it was a great trip!