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Show Friday, April 23, 1971 SIGNPOST Page 13 Pi H H HUH K H X vf , yffwL jk jW The Promised Land FORT LAUDERDALE, FLA. 8 p.m. and the Crunch begins. From crowdedfour-on-the-floor hotel rooms. From under palms, from out of the water, from anywhere and all over, the teeming masses with Youth written all over their faces and tanned bodies, emerge and keep emerging. Cruising down Atlantic beach-line Boulevard, walking for hours to get no-place, they search for something ... watching, peering, looking relentlessly and restlessly, their bodies squirming from beneath patched denims, scraggly hair, torn T-shirts, marching in the promenade toward promiscuity. Girls are transformed into chicks, guys into studs equally the spring break exodus, a lonely harts club in the sand, where every night is singles night, a beach teach-in in a one-week lifestyle course consisting of sun, fun, sex without guilt and guilt without sex. Freedom, liberty and the pursuit of hipness. They've come from all over, these youths, and they meet as Midwestern twangs blend with Southern drawls and New York overtones mingle with Boston undertones. And the shocking culture is no culture shock to them: they have come expecting what they are getting. They want to be free. It's the Fort Lauderdale spring vacation pre-Easter college youth-type . scene. A pimple on the chin and you qualify, with long hair and bell bottoms as this year's badges of the youth culture. The passwords vary from "Got any hash or acid, man?" Don't I know ya from somewhere, girl?" to "Hey! Sig Delt!" Sleep on the Beach Each morning, daytime arrives and a night's sleep is continued on the beach the sun's rays hover over as people display their Fort Lauderdale bodies, sunlamped and dieted in preparation for their one-week sojourn. And, if it rains, as it did one overcast spring-break morning, they'll lounge there anyway, solar perplexus. The beach scene. Like something you didn't believe was real - right out of a 50s beach-bingo flick, without Frankie and Annette, but with a cast of a thousand other playing the same cinematic games without the fade-outs. A boy passes, tanned and muscled, carrying a yellow surf board. Two goils from the East ("We're from the East," say the girls from the Bronx) squint at one another and one meekly mutters an "oy" that she really didn't mean to say. She corrects herself ("Oh"), the surfer smiles, and the girls' mornings are made. Now for the afternoon. The afternoon drones on and 1 -1 - Something new at WAFFLE-DAWGS: acorndog on a stick baked in a griddle - not fried. 25c 2636 Grant - Phone 393-2394 Open 1 1 a.m. daily - Closed Sunday by Rick Mitz on as did the morning. Walking to see the many nonexistent sights of thisfun-in-the-sun city or back in hotel rooms to wash, dry, comb hair, preparing for the evening Crunch, writing quick letters home sayingwish-you-were-here, glad that you aren't. Why are they here? They arrive in groups and stick together like molasses. Some of the most beautiful people come here; others come here to become beautiful. They're all here Marjorie Morning and Evening Star, every Joe College, every football hero, every cheerleader, their bodies their social security. And they've all come looking for the same thing: an instant one-week mecca, a nighttime nirvana, a college Karma, and something to bring back home as a souvenir: a golden tan, their trademarks of where they've been. It is the city of Fort Lauderdale and its merchants who bear the responsibility. More than 15,000 college students move in on the city, leaving about $1.5 million in local cash registers. Although the merchants are more than happy to accept the students' money, they aren't happy to accept the students. This year, one hotel prepared a three-page list of Dos and Don'ts for students "made necessary through prior experience," almost pleading with the guests not to dress in "beatnik type dress... you are guests in a first class hotel and you are expected to dress and conduct yourself in a manner befitting your surroundings to act as iadies and gentlemen." The rules go on to say that students residing in the hotel are not allowed to have visitors in their rooms. Corps of policemen are stationed at hotel doors at night to enforce regulations that grew out of students' bad behavior last spring break. 8:30 and the Crunch continues. Hair in place until windblown. Off to Lum's for dinner or, if you can't afford, the Corner Drugstore or the corner drug store where cries of "Got any Acid of Mesc?" if i i . i . m are meai-ume entertainment for the side-walk cafe clientele.People whisk by, shouting jf after girlies, radios blaring the sounds of the Top Twenty and "Welcome to Fort Lauderdale, students," as obscenities sprinkle the air. "I want that girl in the black," a hotel "beatnik" guy says over his breath. "Yeah," says his cronie. "And I want that black with that girl." And the throngs of young people are astounding: college sweatshirts glare with yellowed sew-on stickers of Universities and colleges and fraternities and sororities all over the - - KRAMERS country, binding these members of the academic single set together. They mingle, congregate, circulate, dropping cigarette and who knows what other kinds of ashes into the sand, nightly turning the beach into a mega-ashtray. One girl is noticeable: alone, tight-fitting jersey, with that desperate look in her eyes that says someone-please-want-me- I've - saved - up all - this - money-and - maybe -1 - should - have-done - the - Bahamas - instead. She walks and walks, silently sulking. By 10 p.m. she is still there. Ten minutes later a short Cincinnati sweatshirted boy takes her away. She is smiling. All that hard-saved money hasn't been for nothing after all. The students move into bars, they move into restaurants, they move into each other's lives and beds, if only for a short night. "What are you doing here?" an old friend asks another in disbelief during a late-night encounter. ' "Well, you know..." "Yeah." Yeah. They're all there for fun, to frolic and laugh and, most important, to forget. To forget about responsibility and text books and what they were back home. But the sad fact is the Fort Lauderdale, with all its teeming youth types with their sordid search for self-indulgence in a strange land that they've made stranger, is boring. It is late. The Crunch is ending. Students are going back to their hotels, camping out on the beach, alone or together. A weaving car drives by and then halts at a stop light. In it are two couples, each member molded into the other's arms. The radio is screeching and from it comes the news ... "Today, President Nixon announced that the Vietnam War..." "Turn that crap off, Mike," the girl says to her one-night beau. He turns it off. The light changes. And they drive off. The masses now are all in bed as the sun is waiting to come up. w " w - AMERICAN AUTOMATIC CAR WASH COUPON NO VERN STOCKSETH'S MID-TOWN AMERICAN BONUS FREE Fix the potholes! Dale Evans I'm not saying there are a large number of potholes around campus, but about a week ago I got lost in one of the bigger holes and had a head-on with some guy, who claimed that the last time he saw the fair to partly-cloudy sky overhead, he was in St. Paul. Minn. Why, just the other day some guy and his date weren't watching where they were driving and drove into a chuckhole, that would make the tarpits of La Braya look like a puddle. Despite three days of intensive search and dredging operation, they've only been able to recover a letterman's sweater and an old V.W. hubcap, which could be rather ominuous because they were riding in a Corvair. Even the Security Police quake whenever they are in the vicinity of one of these bubbling fountains of fermentation. The Coors people ought to look into this method of brewing. These gaping areas of sunken earth are most often referred to as potholes, why they are called potholes is beyond me. For one thing, I have never ever seen anyone cook in one, but if they were used for cooking Clam Chowder, even one of the smaller pots, there would be enough chowder to feed the starving masses of India and China for a week. The medium sized chuckholes are less dangerous than the small holes, because at least you can turn on your lights when you go in and honk your horn when you come out. By the way a collection is being taken-up for the guy from St. Paul. He needs money to get home, so give generously. A possible solution to the problem and the parking problem also, is to modify the existing holes by squaring the sides, using shorings and cross bracing and then turn the hole into underground parking. Some pothole repairs have been made, but there are still plenty of them left. I personally would hate to foot the re-alignment bill for all the cars with bent frontends as a result of potholes around campus. fficers installed Installation of officers for Kyathina was held March 11 at the Hotel Ben Lomond. The following officers were installed: President Raylene Brown Vice-President Kathy Garner Secretary Cheryl Wheelwright Treasurer Aleta Cobabe Historian Susan Brown Social Chairman Carrie Larsen The New officers of TAU 75c Value PURCHASE NECESSARY 2688 WASHINGTON BLVD. OGDEN, UTAH OPEN - 6:00 A.M. to 12:00 P.M. Vt GAL CREAM WEBER fCE CREAM WITH LEAD FREE AMOCO GASOLINE FJLUJP (iOSaflon Mawwri) QVm GOODTHKU MAY 3, 1971 ....... ..... ...... THETA NU sorority for 1971-1972 were announced Sunday at a special luncheon. They are: Pres. Koy Smith Vic Pres. Debbie Rubin Sec. Judy Curtis Corresponding Sec. Liz GardinerTreasurer Marty Larkin Historian Nancy Sorrels Reporter Elaine Thomas fiiTcv (AMERICAN) ............ j |