A personal essay by Amanda Montell
“The sun, with all those planets revolving around it, can still ripen a bunch of grapes as if it had nothing else in the universe to do.” —Galileo Galilei
When I was seventeen my family took a trip to Mexico, and for the four-day duration I made it my mission not to experience an ounce, not a molecule, of fun. It was spring break of my junior year—a week when my only desire was to haunt a dark basement with my best friend, choking down Beefeater gin stolen from my parents’ liquor cabinet. I wanted to marathon pirated Friends reruns. I wanted to gossip. But there I was, imprisoned at a luminous resort in Cabo San Lucas.