I suppose that, if one were to reflect on it at length, there’s probably some sort of mythology built up around college students and Spring Break. There’s "The Road Trip," the "Beach Vacation," et cetera. A mythological Spring Break would be about a bunch of college kids from one school going to some warm place in order to meet bunches of kids from other schools. And then getting drunk and hooking up with one or several of them. There may also be a talking dog.

It is with a mixture of sadness and relief, but very little surprise, that I am forced to announce that I have scored myself an early ticket home. Thanks to a rigorous program of not ever turning anything in and refusing to go to class before 3 pm, and also of being surly, I have managed, in the seventh week of my eighth semester of college, to get my personal diploma sent back to the goddamn diploma factory. Take that, Diploma Factory!

Apparently, Smiley Eighties was well worth four dollars, especially if you don’t like alcohol. There are those of us, however, that do. A lot. So, when we got the yearning for some free booze we did what every young adult of sound mind does: we got ourselves to Vegas.

By the time senior year rolls around, pretty much everybody has been to Vegas. Still, it’s more fun to go when you’re actually 21 and needn’t worry about having your legs broke. So, once the youngest member of our posse, Mr. Jorah Dannenberg ’01, crossed the threshold into manhood, we got him a hooker. Then we took him to Vegas.

Aruffo’s has been part of the Village restaurant scene for over 15 years, featuring traditional southern Italian dining choices. This upscale dining experience features warm atmosphere, quality service, a full bar and an excellent wine list. Not a choice for everyday, Aruffo’s is a great place for that birthday or anniversary celebration, or when the parents bring their plastic and want to treat. Bling! Bling! Appetizers range from $5.95 - $9.95, salads from $5.95 - $8.95 and entrees from$7.95 for pasta to $21.95 for specials.

I’ve created some distance. For the last few weeks I haven’t thought about the Academy Awards much. I’ve enjoyed the rain and intermittent sun and imagined the way life could be, where each person has their own awards they distribute to each actor, director, member of the crew, composer, producer, et cetera, and each recipient could take pride in winning the award that that person bestowed no matter who they might be, because their praise is genuine. But the wind stirred. And we marched into March, which can only signify Oscar time (and plenty of other things).

Imagine, if you can, that you are an actor who enjoys performing the works of Samuel Beckett. Not only do you have to make sure you are always following Beckett’s precise stage directions, but you must also immerse yourself in his unique language. That was what Professor of English Steve Young had been doing for several years, until he came across two plays by Joseph Chaikin and Sam Shepard, Tongues and Savage/Love, that moved him to momentarily depart from Beckett in order to create a new kind of performance.

My trip there began with a flight from Ontario to Las Vegas. Hopping from one city of debauchery to the next, the planes got rowdier. One guy won a thousand bucks on a slot machine at the Las Vegas Airport, and he sponsored the drinking for the back section of the plane. A few hours later, we all stumbled off to be greeted by beads and friends in New Orleans.