Why Random Trips Work...

Its been long since i wrote out my heart here. And yes, this first line has been a never-ending cliche but nonetheless a good way to start my posts.

Random Trips make up a heap of the otherwise-never ending routine called College. And though, with all the last minute detailing that gets into them they are left far from random, everybody loves a good trip. The Girls like it when its short and at a time when there are plentiful of excuses to give at home, the bunkers depend on these trips to get their connect up with the class again, and the Boys, well....They just love Trips.

However, originating from a very cheap class who are at the will to spend a grand on a project but just above a dime on something they enjoy has its own drawbacks, In other words, even if you have a rich dad, there's no way you're going to save up money in BMM. We often end up calling ourselves Cheap, but there's a lot going into coining that term.

Coming back to the daunting task of saving up for a trip. Once the accounts have been made and the group realises that each one can spend nothing more than 300 bucks, we already have our destination marked. While in most cases Manori happens to win hands down, a few brave folk have also ventured as far as Daman (when the booze is cheap, why worry where to sleep?).

Now since these trips happen to work out only when the semester's about to end, we're sure to get the necessary crowd (10 upwards always works out better for splitting the room charges) and as they say, 'the more the merrier', specially when the barrel's rolling.

What happens from the time we enter our rooms though is a matter of sworn secrecy. OK, i'll admit it isn't sworn, but its still a secret. Its known by many, but still unspoken. You can take a guess now and there are slim chances of you being anywhere far from bullsey

The best part, however, or atleast according to me is the amount of time these trips allow you to be by yourself. In a spur of  moment, you can get all chatty with people you bitch about, and in the next you can enjoy the fleeting sea breeze all by yourself. After all, its not a holiday if you ain't got it to yourself!

Anyways, as always we have the gorgeous beach to ourselves too, and the water never looks as inviting as it may seem after a hard night if you know what i mean. A nice decent game of footy is what follows, and in due time, people are seen complaining of their respective tans and how horrible they look. That my friends is when we retire for the day and start the slow and steady journey home.

For me the return has always been the hardest, you know, when you're out all of a sudden, just getting that incredible adrenalin-like rush of independence, and doing things your way, the return just makes you feel like shit. It brings to mind the painful journey in a creaky local train back home. It reminds you that you're back to the routine. (When were you out of it anyways? Half a Day?)

While memories often keeps these trips fresh, Nostalgia hits hard. After all, when you'll be so rich as to spend a couple of days at an end instead of one, you won't have the same weird, unshaven pain-in-the-ass friends with you. :D