J Mich-ell W, U pw , w Cancun this, you jet-setting jerks Aloha! Buenos dias! Welcome home! Let me take your bags! Oh, what's this? A luggage tag from Cancun? Vail? St. Croix? How lovely! I certainly hope you enjoyed your trip! And I certainly hope you feel refreshed and ready to take on the rest of the term after nine days frolicking on the slopes or in the warm sun! And I certainly hope you didn't suffer any CARCINOMAS or SKIPOLES THROUGH YOUR FRONTAL LOBES or TROPICAL DISEASES or... Yeah, I'm bitter. Oh, I took a trip this spring break as well. Stole away from the hustle and bustle of academia, from the dog-eat-bran-muffin existence that is day to day life in Ann Arbor. Escaped to the little waterfront hide- away way down south where I've spent every spring break since junior high. Only "way down south" is about thirty miles. And the waterfront's Lake Erie. I hail from Monroe, Michigan. Remember the weekend you and your friends all piled into a car and drove down to Toledo because you'd just turned 19, which enabled you to buy 3.2 near-beer in Ohio? Remem- ber that really flat area you drove through that was kind of like the repetitive backgrounds for those Atari road rally video games, where the same sets of billboards and road- side trees would flash by every five seconds? That's Monroe. Named for Presi- dent James Monroe, in preparation for his upcoming visit to the Northwest Territory. The prez never showed up, but the name stuck. Whenever I get rejected by a girl, I can't help but feel a surge of patrio- tism. My home. The town that got stood up. And my vacation spot. The only rays I caught last week were cathode rays, enjoying 46 channels of glori- ous cablevision in the bosom of my family. Don't get me wrong - I love my family, and I wouldn't trade a moment spent with them for any- thing in the world. I love getting to talk to my parents and playing with my nieces. I spent 18 relatively well-adjusted years in Monroe, thanks to my Mom and Dad. But it would be nice if some break I could afford to go - Mom, stop that. Stop crying, Mom. I was only - Mom, there's no need to get out the will - look, I'm sorry I referred to Ann Arbor as "home" - yes, of course I still love you, Mom, I - - anyway, suffice it to say that my visit home was "relaxing." I slept in, enjoyed home cooking, got PONi JIM 4K spit upon by my three-month-old niece, and, in general, managed to prepare my angst-ridden soul for an- other heapin' helpin' of weltschmertz collegiate-style on my return. Basically a low-yield week in the stress points department. Except, that is, for the AWKWARD EN- COUNTER WITH THE HIGH SCHOOL ACQUAINTANCE. I don't own a car, so I like to take advantage of the opportunity to just go for a drive when I'm in Monroe. I went into the garage, hopped into the family gredunza, and turned the borrowed key. Turned on the radio instinctively: Well, I was born in a small town And I live in a small town I'm not making this up. If my life were a movie, I'd fire the sound- track co-ordinator. Oh, that song holds memories for me, all right - memories of when it hit the air- waves and myself and millions of other small town teenagers reached for our collective barf bags. I can be myself livin' in that small town/ And people let me be just what I wanna be. What small town are we referring to, Mr. Mellencamp? Greenwich Village? No, sorry. If you want to find small-town America, you don't look in the cornfields. You look at the mall. Which was where I was headed. This, this is America. It's open from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. seven days a week. It's where your dreams are payable on a monthly basis, the kids look exactly the same, and the food is phonetically spelled. And if you're from Monroe, it's where three-quar- ters of your graduating class now works/hangs. That's where I was, standing in Waldenbooks, doing the traditional power-read, trying to make it through a "Life In Hell" book before the manager yelled at me. And then "Hey! How's it goin'?" "Hey! How you doin"' - Don? Tom? It's got that "ah" sound. Pleasepleaseplease let it be Tom - "Tom?" ."Don!" - Christ - "just hangin' out in the mall, huh?" "Yeah, well, you know, that's life in exciting Monroe. How's col- lege going?" "Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, great. Good. Keeping busy. How do you like school?" "I'm not going to school." Oh, Jesus, I'm so stupid - "Oh, so, just" - no, not "just," you col- lege jerk - "So you like work?" God, if he's unemployed I'll kill myself right here... "Yeah, it's OK. Getting married to Jackie next year." "Great." "Yeah." "Yeah." The sweat marks on the paper- back have just become permanent. "Well, bye, Don." "Bye, John." "