Word on the street is that our favorite ancient Greek philosopher Socrates might be somewhat responsible for some of spring break’s origins. He not only told the youth that the unexamined life was not worth living but also suggested that they party like it was 430 B.C. To welcome the vernal equinox, elaborate festivals would be thrown to pay tribute to Dionysus, conveniently the Greek god of wine and fertility. And thus the pagan youths had fun, fun, fun until the monks took their flower crowns away a few centuries later.

Some claim that our modern concept of spring break began in the trenches of World War I, as American soldiers serving in France watched Europeans halt spring offenses temporarily to take a break and party. The young Americans enjoyed the scantily-clad young ladies that would dance in celebration over the trenches until they realized that many of these women were, in fact, men. This confusion apparently marked the onset of the phrase “Show us your...breasts...” which has since become a spring break staple.

The spring break we think of now probably took its roots in Florida in the 1930s. After the state’s first Olympic-sized pool was built in Ft. Lauderdale, the Colgate University swim coach decided to take his team down south to train during a school break in 1935. Several schools followed suit and soon students all over the country were flocking to Florida for some fun in the sun.

The popular 1960 movie “Where the Boys Are,” about four Midwestern college co-eds on spring break in Ft. Lauderdale, really solidified the idea of a spring break experience in Florida. After the film, thousands of college students started streaming into Ft. Lauderdale every spring in search of romance, adventure and a scary tan. But the good, clean fun of spring break got wilder throughout the ‘60s and ‘70s as the sandy beaches of Ft. Lauderdale evolved from simply the place where the boys were to a playground for sex, drugs and rock and roll.

By the mid 1980s, Ft. Lauderdale’s local government officials got tired of finding shot glasses and extra-small white T-shirts strewn on their streets, so they cracked down and passed a lot of anti-antics laws. “Fort Liquordale” soon lost its spring-break allure as it developed (devolved?) into the city where you go to visit your grandma or embark on a magical Disney Cruise.

Of course, by that time it didn’t matter that Ft. Lauderdale was lame because college students had discovered that there were other places to go. Like Tijuana and Cancun, where many still travel to appreciate Mexican culture by taking advantage of the 18-and-up drinking age and the abundance of cheap tequila.

Or like Daytona Beach, Florida where the first MTV Spring Break extravaganza was shot in 1986. When I was about 12 and used to occasionally watch MTV to keep up with the latest boy band videos, I would catch glimpses of the glistening, gyrating teen orgy conducted by Carson Daly that, oddly enough, started in February and somehow managed to last well into summer.

I learned a lot in the short snippets that I saw. First of all, that many college students will do just about anything for a free T-shirt. And that what happens at spring break doesn’t stay at spring break if it gets caught by MTV cameras. And that if you want to flash somebody, there are plenty of vultures ready to turn your flesh into soft porn that will run on loop at 3 a.m. and be titled “Girls Gone Wild,” because the title “Girls Enjoying Their Youth and Unexpectedly Becoming Masturbation Fodder and Skeezy Rapists’ Tickets to Fame and Fortune” is too long.

Off the air, spring break has also developed a quieter side. For many college students, it has become the perfect time to do some community service by going on trips like Stanford’s Alternative Spring Breaks. Others dedicate spring break to simply vegging out. And some hit the road and embark on trips that range from beatific to Britney Spears’ “Crossroads”-esque. One minute you’re singing “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll” with your girlfriends while jumping on a bed and the next minute you’re in court, fighting for the custody of your children.

Anyway.

When finals end in 10 days, I will be heading across the country to spend my spring break in Florida as I have done every year to parrrrtay. And by party, I mean hanging out with my mom in her modest condo, which is nestled in a 55+ community 10 miles away from Clearwater.

If I am feeling particularly festive, I might venture out to the community pool with a book and read in the sun while 80-year-old snowbirds from Quebec float around in inner tubes. Perhaps we will even do shots of Pepto-Bismol together. All in all, we ‘bouts to go dumb.

Natalie Jabbar wants to wish you a happy and safe spring break, wherever it shall take you. If you get bored, email her at njabbar@stanford.edu and she will happily provide you with real-time commentary from the community pool scene.