Hometown habits die hard

Hoe, hoe, hoe! It’s the most wonderful time of the year. Our yearly migration back to the nest (New Jersey). Though some of you will be sticking around in Miami or going on vacation, probably around about 90% of you, will be heading back to a nameless Northeastern suburb to torture your parents, complain about how cold it is and shamelessly indulge in stirring up some needless drama.

Something about going home for the holiday season makes us feel nostalgic for what once was. Everyone’s mind drifts to that certain hometown someone they have too much history with that they’re looking forward to “running into” as they head to the airport.

Go to your local dive bar prepared to see everyone you had ever known from ages 10-18. Brag insufferably about how tan you are and how nice UM is to all the kids at state schools (these are the things our tuition really pays for), but do not come back to campus bragging about your sloppy hook up with your toxic high school ex-boyfriend who dropped out of school and now works part-time laying flooring with his dad. Backsliding is only embarrassing if you make it embarrassing but there’s no need to promote it either.

Some find it in themselves to romanticize sneaking up the stairs past his sleeping parents and getting it on in his twin XL while his childhood memorabilia looks down upon them in horror. The really fun part comes when you’re climbing out of a second story window or unwillingly catching up with his mom in the kitchen while you wait for your ride. Others might find this scenario anxiety-inducing and just a little bit creepy.

I say go home and get your kicks. We’re young and when you’re stuck in the suburbs, you’ve got to get it where you can. Reverting to your high school self can be fun for a little while as long as you don’t come back to campus yearning for what could have been. What happens at home, stays at home.