Praise be to Krishna spring break is over!

This spring break I was jetting off to sunny Mexico for a week of relaxation on my first real spring break. I had gone on other spring break vacations before, but those were only to visit my grandparents in their retirement communities in Florida and Arizona where the only fun you can possibly have is bargain shopping at the Brass Armadillo, taking Aqua-sizing (think Jazz-ercize, only in a pool) classes, or reading massive amounts of Nancy Drew.

My family and I had a fairly relaxing vacation except for when we went to visit Cozumel for the day. We weren’t even going to go until my dad said that the half hour trip on the ferry would be worth it. Boy was he wrong. Next thing I knew I was in the front of the boat clutching the air conditioning vent trying to get some cold air on my face even though I was freezing, and grasping the flimsy “motion discomfort” bag trying to say focused on the horizon. So I didn’t throw up, but while I was on the ship I felt like death would have been better than the severe seasickness I was experiencing. The worst part was knowing that we had to go back.

When it was time to return to Minnesota, my family got on the tiny 727 plane like movie stars do, strolling over the tarmac to the stairway up to the plane, thanking our lucky stars that no one had gotten food poisoning over the trip. However, we considered our good fortune too soon as what followed can only be considered the plane ride from Hell. First, two boys the aisle over from me started getting sick on the plane. They both had eaten at the Burger King, and the flight attendant was talking in hushed tones about how this was an “issue of public health.” But I had eaten at that Burger King, and was beginning to feel ill as well. “Shut up, Anna,” I thought to myself, “that’s only the conversion syndrome talking!”

One little boy stood up in the aisle, holding his barf bag in between white-knuckled fingers, swaying back and forth, looking at me. The only thing I could think of was, “Kid, it would be wise not to barf on me because if you do I will be soooo mad!” My Minnesotan accent was dragging out. “I would, like, punch you!” I can’t remember if I said that out loud or not but judging from the angry look his mother was giving me, it might have slipped out.

Finally, just when we were about to land, the plane pulls back up quickly. This immediately set me into a mild panic attack, especially when the pilot did this again several more times. I closed my eyes and hung onto the armrests, praying Hail Marys, Hare Krishnas, and to any other god that would just let us land this plane safely! When we finally landed, the entire plane shook, some of the overhead compartments popped open, and the flight attendant’s improperly stowed pop cans burst from their compartments in a loud clamor. Oh yeah, and the plane was filled with the smell of the landing gear’s burning rubber. What did the flight attendant have to say about it? “Welcome to Minneapolis International Airport where the local time is …”

Anna Wyatt, staff writer