I went to art school, so my college experience wasn't typical. No sports teams, no greek life, no quad (whatever that is). Instead we had school sanctioned naked bingo, bitchy hipsters who lived in warehouses, and a bookstore that mainly sold art supplies.
But come senior year, my friends and I participated in an age-old tradition that transcends college type -- spring break. In an effort to avoid mingling with extras from MTV's The Grind, we chose to spend it in Puerto Rico. The island of remote beaches, a rainforest, a bioluminescent bay, caves, and about a million stray cats. And, if we still needed to fill our douchebag quotient, it also has a Senior Frogs.
We rented a house (this was pre-Air BnB, of course) and a car, and spent seven days exploring the island. We trekked through El Yunque, checked out art in Ponce, snorkeled in Culebra, swam in Fajardo's bio bay, danced in San Juan, laid out on all the "hidden" beaches we could find, and drank our weight in pina coladas. Though we never had the pleasure of running into James Franco, I still consider it the perfect spring break vacation.