Disclaimer: This essay is 201% accurate, realistic, and true.
Angerica Andrade
Block 1
Martinez
Favorite Holiday? Labor Day
Since I can remember, I’ve never been fond of Christmas, or Halloween, or Valentine’s Day. Holidays hardly ever appealed to me, or amused me. Except for one. I’ve always loved Labor Day. No other holiday has brought me so much happiness. I’d wake up on a cold, winter day and think about Labor Day, and all of a sudden, I have the energy of a 15-year old in summer time. In an alternating fashion, I spend my Labor Days with either my best friends Franklin and Rosemary, my uncle Gerardo and aunt Sophie, or my entire family.
When I spend Labor Day with my best friends, we’d always take a road trip once the clock strikes 12am. First on our list is creating the perfect playlist to listen to while on the road. Once we’re on the road, we turn up the music, blaring. Then, just for kicks, we’d drive with our headlights off in ten minute intervals. Very dangerous, sometimes scary, but we have fun. We’d head out to Palo Alto. Since we drive so early, we stay at this tiny church. We’d all talk until we fall asleep on the pews. Once the sun rises, someone from the church would wake us up. Then we’d go to a park nearby where the three of us would do our Tai Chi near this stream abundant with tiny fish. Then we’d get our kites out of the van and fly until 10 o’clock. When we finally get sick of flying, we squeeze in the van again and head out to Berkeley. We always, always get once piercing each there. One year, my buddy Franklin got a piercing on the top of his foot! He wore flip flops the whole day. After we’re all holed up, we bum it at Fat Slice and buy one whole pizza. We’d laugh about our piercings and whine about the shitty bathrooms. Last on our city list, we drive out to Gilroy. We only come there for the garlic, like the rest of the world. We’d consume pounds and pounds of garlic bread and wash it down with bottles and bottles of ginger ale. Once we start to feel like regurgitating our quickly consumed garlic bread, the three of us would race to see who can the most garlic fries. We always bet that I’d win, but Rosemary always wins anyway. Franklin, Rosemary, and I have the best Labor Days together. You’d think it couldn’t get any better than that. But when I’m not having a good time with them, then I’m with my aunt Sophie and uncle Gerardo.
You must know, I love going on road trips, especially with my uncle Gerardo and aunt Sophie. On Labor Days, the three of us would wake up at 5am to pack up on beef jerky, mentos, and Red Bull. Aunt Sophie would usually eat all of the beef jerky before we’d even hit the road. But when we finally hit the road, uncle Gerardo would turn up our favorite band Animal Collective while simultaneously yelling over the music to tell us about how horrible his hangover is. “If feels like dwarves are trying to eat my brain!!” he’d yell to us. We make our first stop to the 4th gas station we’d see where we’d all buy matching sunglasses and more beef jerky. Once we purchase them, the three of us would pull out our matching hats that say “BITCHES GET STITCHES” on the front. Then we’d take a Polaroid and place the picture in our scrapbook full of pictures from past road trips. Every Labor Day we spend together, we always take the risk of picking up at least one hitch-hiker for the day. It’s our road game. Aunt Sophie is usually the smartest when it comes to judging which hitch-hiker we could pick up and not kill us or eat our intestines or steal our beef jerky. Uncle Gerardo always chooses the creepers with missing teeth and whiskey-smelling breath. He says that people that look like that help you build character. But they do tell interesting stories for creepers. One hitch-hiker one year told us a story about how he used to collect snails and feed them chocolate pudding. He said that his collection grew so big that snails covered an entire wall in his house. Usually we’d invite the hitch-hiker to bungee jump with us. Only two hitch-hikers ever accepted the offer. One didn’t know how to swim and one refused to wear pants, ever, so we just told him to watch. Before our first jumps, uncle Gerardo would say a 5-minute prayer to the Mayan gods. We still don’t know why. He’s not Mayan at all. After bungee jumping, we’d have a picnic. This is around the time uncle Gerardo would pull out a bottle of something to get drunk off. We like him better when he’s drunk anyway. He makes more sense that way. And he’s a great drunk driver. Aunt Sophie drives like she’s missing her eyeballs. That’s when she’s sober. So we usually don’t let her drive. When I’m not on road trips, I spend my Labor Day with my entire family at our house.
My whole family stays at our house the night before Labor Day. All of us would wake up before the sun rises. First, we’d make giant waffles for breakfast. We’d devour them so quickly and so much that on average, 2 members of the family would be outside throwing up on the lawn or face first on the toilet. After the waffles, every single member of the family must make a pie. No one could duplicate pie flavors. My dad is the worst at the pie-making because he’d gather all his ingredients from our backyard. My grandma is the best though. But I think that’s only because she’s cool and old and smells like cotton candy. And because she’s a pastry chef. I don’t know. Next, we’d gather up all of our pillows and pile them nicely in the living room. We don’t know why but our dog Collin would always pee on my uncle Gerardo’s pillow. And he’d get so pissed that he’d try to pee on Collin in return. My mom would take our bags and bags of marshmallows and pile them in the living room like the pillows. My cousin Roberto and I would take all of the peeps and place them in the microwave to watch them expand. We’d scrape off all of the expanded peeps and put them in Collin’s dish and make him eat it. He does not like peeps. During the afternoon, we’d go outside to jump on the trampoline. My sister gets so vicious in the trampoline that one of us ends up with a bloody nose, every year. Then we’d make helium balloons and inhale helium gas while singing the national anthem. You know, in honor of the holiday. Of course, what’s Labor Day without face painting? We let my brother in charge of the face painting. So when we’re all painted, all of us would look like crystal meth users at the carnival living the mob life. Finally, when it’s night time, we’d all gather in the living room, turn off all the lights in the house, and begin the pillow fight! My grandpa would turn on his strobe light, aunt Sophie would turn up her techno playlist, and we’d all put on our glow in the dark gear. There’s only one rule for pillow fight night: NO MERCY!!!!!
Every year, these holidays would come around; Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, Halloween, Christmas, Easter. But no other holiday will ever compete with Labor’s Day. Our family prepares for Labor Day like it was someone’s wedding. I take pride in being part of the family that appreciates this very special holiday. Personally, as a nation, I think we should all celebrate Labor Day with a little more enthusiasm. How many kids do you see excited and happy on Labor’s Day? Never? Never. Play now, work later. That’s what we believe Labor Day is. And so far, we’ve had the best.
When I spend Labor Day with my best friends, we’d always take a road trip once the clock strikes 12am. First on our list is creating the perfect playlist to listen to while on the road. Once we’re on the road, we turn up the music, blaring. Then, just for kicks, we’d drive with our headlights off in ten minute intervals. Very dangerous, sometimes scary, but we have fun. We’d head out to Palo Alto. Since we drive so early, we stay at this tiny church. We’d all talk until we fall asleep on the pews. Once the sun rises, someone from the church would wake us up. Then we’d go to a park nearby where the three of us would do our Tai Chi near this stream abundant with tiny fish. Then we’d get our kites out of the van and fly until 10 o’clock. When we finally get sick of flying, we squeeze in the van again and head out to Berkeley. We always, always get once piercing each there. One year, my buddy Franklin got a piercing on the top of his foot! He wore flip flops the whole day. After we’re all holed up, we bum it at Fat Slice and buy one whole pizza. We’d laugh about our piercings and whine about the shitty bathrooms. Last on our city list, we drive out to Gilroy. We only come there for the garlic, like the rest of the world. We’d consume pounds and pounds of garlic bread and wash it down with bottles and bottles of ginger ale. Once we start to feel like regurgitating our quickly consumed garlic bread, the three of us would race to see who can the most garlic fries. We always bet that I’d win, but Rosemary always wins anyway. Franklin, Rosemary, and I have the best Labor Days together. You’d think it couldn’t get any better than that. But when I’m not having a good time with them, then I’m with my aunt Sophie and uncle Gerardo.
You must know, I love going on road trips, especially with my uncle Gerardo and aunt Sophie. On Labor Days, the three of us would wake up at 5am to pack up on beef jerky, mentos, and Red Bull. Aunt Sophie would usually eat all of the beef jerky before we’d even hit the road. But when we finally hit the road, uncle Gerardo would turn up our favorite band Animal Collective while simultaneously yelling over the music to tell us about how horrible his hangover is. “If feels like dwarves are trying to eat my brain!!” he’d yell to us. We make our first stop to the 4th gas station we’d see where we’d all buy matching sunglasses and more beef jerky. Once we purchase them, the three of us would pull out our matching hats that say “BITCHES GET STITCHES” on the front. Then we’d take a Polaroid and place the picture in our scrapbook full of pictures from past road trips. Every Labor Day we spend together, we always take the risk of picking up at least one hitch-hiker for the day. It’s our road game. Aunt Sophie is usually the smartest when it comes to judging which hitch-hiker we could pick up and not kill us or eat our intestines or steal our beef jerky. Uncle Gerardo always chooses the creepers with missing teeth and whiskey-smelling breath. He says that people that look like that help you build character. But they do tell interesting stories for creepers. One hitch-hiker one year told us a story about how he used to collect snails and feed them chocolate pudding. He said that his collection grew so big that snails covered an entire wall in his house. Usually we’d invite the hitch-hiker to bungee jump with us. Only two hitch-hikers ever accepted the offer. One didn’t know how to swim and one refused to wear pants, ever, so we just told him to watch. Before our first jumps, uncle Gerardo would say a 5-minute prayer to the Mayan gods. We still don’t know why. He’s not Mayan at all. After bungee jumping, we’d have a picnic. This is around the time uncle Gerardo would pull out a bottle of something to get drunk off. We like him better when he’s drunk anyway. He makes more sense that way. And he’s a great drunk driver. Aunt Sophie drives like she’s missing her eyeballs. That’s when she’s sober. So we usually don’t let her drive. When I’m not on road trips, I spend my Labor Day with my entire family at our house.
My whole family stays at our house the night before Labor Day. All of us would wake up before the sun rises. First, we’d make giant waffles for breakfast. We’d devour them so quickly and so much that on average, 2 members of the family would be outside throwing up on the lawn or face first on the toilet. After the waffles, every single member of the family must make a pie. No one could duplicate pie flavors. My dad is the worst at the pie-making because he’d gather all his ingredients from our backyard. My grandma is the best though. But I think that’s only because she’s cool and old and smells like cotton candy. And because she’s a pastry chef. I don’t know. Next, we’d gather up all of our pillows and pile them nicely in the living room. We don’t know why but our dog Collin would always pee on my uncle Gerardo’s pillow. And he’d get so pissed that he’d try to pee on Collin in return. My mom would take our bags and bags of marshmallows and pile them in the living room like the pillows. My cousin Roberto and I would take all of the peeps and place them in the microwave to watch them expand. We’d scrape off all of the expanded peeps and put them in Collin’s dish and make him eat it. He does not like peeps. During the afternoon, we’d go outside to jump on the trampoline. My sister gets so vicious in the trampoline that one of us ends up with a bloody nose, every year. Then we’d make helium balloons and inhale helium gas while singing the national anthem. You know, in honor of the holiday. Of course, what’s Labor Day without face painting? We let my brother in charge of the face painting. So when we’re all painted, all of us would look like crystal meth users at the carnival living the mob life. Finally, when it’s night time, we’d all gather in the living room, turn off all the lights in the house, and begin the pillow fight! My grandpa would turn on his strobe light, aunt Sophie would turn up her techno playlist, and we’d all put on our glow in the dark gear. There’s only one rule for pillow fight night: NO MERCY!!!!!
Every year, these holidays would come around; Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, Halloween, Christmas, Easter. But no other holiday will ever compete with Labor’s Day. Our family prepares for Labor Day like it was someone’s wedding. I take pride in being part of the family that appreciates this very special holiday. Personally, as a nation, I think we should all celebrate Labor Day with a little more enthusiasm. How many kids do you see excited and happy on Labor’s Day? Never? Never. Play now, work later. That’s what we believe Labor Day is. And so far, we’ve had the best.
