Nothing in my life has ever been typical, so I am unsure why I assumed that this spring break trip would be just that. Tonight, after the a terrible, over-priced dinner, never did I expect my sour mood to be stunted by “The World’s Shortest St. Patrick’s Day Parade” in the heart of this seemingly summer-popular town. Seriously, how can watching old men fight in the streets over bead necklaces not be filled with pure joy and entertainment? Hello, Hot Springs, Arkansas. Alyssa has arrived.

Did your spring break trip to Padre, Miami or Gulf Shore include seeing Jim Belushi sing and play the harmonic while surrounded by old women dressed in scandalous green dresses? Nope. You missed out. That sucks.

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I’m from Wichita, Kansas. We have Riverfest, where letting your freak flag fly is encouraged, but in the short two hours I spent in front of the Pump House on Bridge Street surrounded by tall men dressed in high-water, green pants I concluded that Hot Spring is filled with more white trash than Wichita will ever be. Also, they have a Tortilla Queen. She chucked green tortilla into the crowd with a few having single dollar bills taped to them. (Oh, boy!! A whole dollar?)

All in all: today felt like I shelled out 150 bucks in gas and food to view a true St. Patrick’s Day celebration, and it was totally worth it.

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