Your Wildest Spring Break Story

Remember Spring Break? That one week in March, April or May (depending on your school district) when you’d get a full five days of freedom to blow off steam and be the young butterfly that you were, fully emerged from your winter cocoon? You could not pay me enough to relive adolescence, but there’s something really romantic about the idea of a good old Spring Break.

I mean, I say that now. One year I threw an outdoor noise concert only a few feet from some cops in Austin, Texas, that ended with one of the performers throwing cinderblocks at the audience. (It wasn’t that dangerous because he was throwing with his non-dominant arm. He’d broken the other one earlier that day but refused to cancel or go to the hospital. Needless to say, alcohol was involved.) So we’re wondering: What weird, wild, fun mess did you get into during your most unforgettable Spring Break?

But first, let’s take a look at last week’s winners: Here are the worst things you’ve done to your parents.

BusyBeingBest might’ve caused an international incident:

I was 8 years old, and my family and I were driving to Niagara Falls in Canada for a nice long weekend trip. My sister and I were sleeping in the backseat when we got to the border, and my parents woke us up so that it didn’t look like they were smuggling 2 children under the blankets. I was pissed to be awoken from my slumber, and I’ve also always been a smart ass, so when Canadian border agents got to the car, they asked my sister and I if these were our parents. I looked him dead in the eye and said “I never saw them before in my life.” Whoops. We then got pulled out of line and everybody had to get out of the car. My mom, always so prepared, had packed our birth certificates, so she got those while agents talked to my dad. Everything was sorted out pretty quickly, and the border agent told me “it’s not nice to not tell the truth little lady.” My sister and I still joke about this, and my mom still gives me The Look.

cschu is on some childhood fantasy shit:

When I was about 6ish/ 7 ( I am an old) I was allowed to take my birthday money and go to the college record store to buy a record. The college kids kind of steered me to a record with a picture of Queen Elizabeth on the cover instead of the Little Red Hen, and I liked the tiara so I unknowingly bought a Sex Pistols album and demanded to listen to it because I spent my birthday money on it. Later that year, my mom and I went on a trip to England and I saw the same picture and that the band was playing somewhere, so when my mother was asleep I left the hotel in London and got a cab to the place where the Sex Pistols were playing ( really I was hoping that the queen would be there with her tiara), and I almost managed to get inside, but the club manager decided that a 7 year old who brought a stuffed Paddington bear was too punk rock for the show, so I sat in the lobby and waited for my mother who came with the police to pick me up ( I did get the album I brought signed but later it got tossed when I moved and I regret that now). Because it was the 70’s I got spanked and I think I might still be grounded. There is nothing scarier than the anger of a parent after they have been scared for their child’s welfare and then discover that child is fine and at a punk rock show.

Mrs. Fingerbottom was a little bit of a childhood nightmare:

When I was really little (and apparently a shitty kid), my mom took me shopping and we were standing in line at a small bakery. When my mom had ordered and paid, she told me we were leaving and for some reason this was unacceptable to me. Instead of throwing a normal temper tantrum, out of nowhere I threw my body to the floor, crawled into a ball and screamed NO PLEASE DON’T HIT ME! My mother, who to this day has never ever laid a finger on me and has no idea where this came from, was mortified. The whole shop went quiet as they all eyed this poor abused child and her horrible mother. It is generally very difficult to embarrass her, but 30 years later she still talks about the sheer humiliation she felt as she (carefully, as to not confirm my ridiculous accusation) dragged me out of the shop.

Allivymar’s mom and my mom are cut from the same cloth:

I was the eldest of 3, in a lower middle class family with not much money. My parents splurged on a new, expensive recliner one day for my dad. A few nights later they went out and left the 3 of us home. Not a good idea.

My brother and sister had this game they called “Ding,” which consisted of me sitting on the couch and the 2 of them in opposite corners of the living room. When I went “Ding!” they would run into the middle of the room and wrestle. This particular night, I went “Ding,” they flew into each other, and landed hard on the new recliner. And the entire arm fell off. We were horrified; my parents would have killed us if they knew. Mom was an awesome woman, but had a temper that was terrifying to behold when she had good reason to be angry. So we leaned the arm back up and sat quietly on the couch, not looking at each other til they got home.

A day or 2 later, dad sat down and the arm fell over. And my mother was FURIOUS. Screaming at him things like “I can’t buy anything nice around here; Why do bother; etc” It went on for hours. We had no guilt about keeping what we did a secret – she could have been screaming at us!

In our 20s, we were all sitting around talking when the chair came up in conversation, and we admitted to them we had broken it. My mother turned to us, and in a quiet, serious voice said “You know I almost divorced your father over that chair.” Ooops. We felt horrible and apologized profusely, but still contend we made the right decision. Love my dad, but we figured as an adult he could hold his own with her. 2 kids and a preteen would have never stood a chance!

Well, goddessisgood, no one can accuse you of not being committed to the bit:

I once peed in my pants, leaving a foot-wide puddle, in the middle of a store to make a point to my mom about how much I didn’t want to go shopping with her and how much I hated that she dragged me outside when all I wanted to do was hide in my room and never have to interact with anyone ever. I was 13. She called my bluff when I told her I needed to go back home because I really really had to pee. She said go ahead if you do. And, I thought I could just pee a little bit but it came out like an unstoppable waterfall and we PLUS THE SHOPKEEPER were all aghast at the sight. I bawled all the way home in between snorts of horrified laughter. She didn’t speak to me for a couple of days. Gawd, she was a saint and I was an insufferable teen.