Spring break is upon us again. Although technically it doesn’t begin until after classes today, I know many people have taken off early to their vacation destination.

In fact, I’d be willing to bet that, as this column runs on the last day of class, it will be read by, at most, 12 people.

That’s fine with me. It takes the pressure off a little bit. I don’t think I’ll even proofreed thiss.

The primary goal I’ve heard from most people is to “get the fudge out of Ames.”

People are tired of their day-to-day lives in central Iowa and want to explore the world. Enter spring break.

Many people have decided to go on one of those trips advertised on posters and ad inserts in the Daily.

You know the ones I’m talking about? They all have headlines saying things like “Drink, Party and Score in Key West For Under $27.” For some reason, they also all have a picture of some woman in a bikini sitting on some dude’s shoulders.

I’ve never been sucked in by this whole ad campaign. I guess I’m supposed to think: “Golly gee, that could be me with that woman on my shoulders.”

But instead I tend to think: “Golly gee, I’ve never seen so many [bastards] in my life.”

The truth of the matter is I’ve never gone anywhere for spring break. Come to think of it, I’ve never really gone anywhere. Come to think of it, where the hell am I?

Sometimes I start getting down on myself because I haven’t really traveled that much.

But then I take a look at some of my friends who have traveled a lot and realize, “Hey, these people aren’t very interesting.”

In fact, the people who travel all the time are some of the dullest people I know.

At first you’re impressed because they’re talking about somewhere far away. But then you realize that even when they’re in Macedonia, they’re the same lame-ass fool you know here.

Most of these people never have an interesting story upon their return, they merely recite their itinerary.

“We flew into Paris and took the Eurorail to Venice. We did some shopping and rode through the canals; then we went to Rome. We swung by the Vatican, looked at the ceiling for 12 minutes, and then we went to the hotel.”

You know what I say to these people? I say “Well, sounds like you had an exciting day. Let me tell you about my day. I woke up, ate breakfast, took a dump and went to class. Then after class I went to the Maintenance Shop and skipped all my other classes. Then I took another dump, and then I raced home to catch ‘Dharma and Greg.'”

In a lot of ways, my day is really no less interesting than theirs. You cannot become an interesting person solely based on your location.

It’s all about being able to tell a good story. Maybe if you’ve done a lot of traveling, you have more ammunition to load your story with. But if you’re not a good storyteller, you’re screwed.

Therein lies the secret of my life. I have done almost nothing of any interest, ever.

Yet I still manage to pull off a good story now and then.

You see, while the rest of you were going to Europe, California or the Boone & Scenic Valley Railroad, I was busy teaching myself how to tell a good story — or how to B.S., if you prefer.

And the best part is that my maniacal little plan has actually worked. There are several people who are actually convinced that I am an interesting person.

So, I might be in a room with someone who is talking about what it’s like to watch the sunrise in Okinawa, but I manage to control the floor with my anecdote about setting off fireworks on the school bus.

Beyond the semantics of good storytelling, there’s something else that makes a person interesting.

It’s not interesting to hear simply what someone has done. What is interesting is how other humans feel about what has happened in their lives.

Everybody’s looking for a connection to someone else, and you’re not going to find that simply by trotting across the globe.

You’re just as likely, if not more so, to unlock a secret of life at your local gas station as you are at the Parthenon.

So, you can all trot off for spring break to your fancy destinations. I’ll be looking for Siddhartha at the bowling alley.

If I don’t find anything, maybe I’ll at least be able to fashion a good story out of it.

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Ben Godar is a junior in sociology from Ames. He isn’t bitter about being stuck in town for spring break.