Plans in the group chat
Every senior trip starts in the same sacred place: a group chat with 27 people, 400 unread messages and zero decisions.
It begins with big dreams: “Let’s go to the beach,” “No, the mountains” and “Wait, what about a cabin with a beach on a mountain?” Somewhere in there, someone makes a Google Doc that three people edit and no one reads.
Weeks go by. Suggestions pile up. Dates conflict. Someone’s mom says no. Someone else drops out but stays in the chat just to react with emojis. The group name changes from “Senior Trip!” to “Trip Planning” and finally to “Is This Even Happening?”
But just when you begin to think the trip is dead — buried under indecision and memes about packing light — one person actually books a place. It’s real. It’s happening. You’ve made it.
As high school seniors wave goodbye to piles of homework, pop quizzes and “See me after class” emails, they leap into post-graduation adventures. Four years of notes and papers are tossed into recycling bins as they set off for either sunny beaches or bustling cities.
Learning life skills
Procrastination pros who once crammed for exams now swap calculators for airport security checks and P.E. classes for packing woes.
Forgetting quotes from AP Lit and lab data from science classes, recent graduates pick up life skills — like asking for directions in a language they don’t speak or thriving on instant noodles. They explore new places, snap selfies and “find themselves,” though they mostly end up finding overpriced souvenirs.
Making memories
Senior summer means road trips — a classic adventure before heading off to college. With friends crammed into a car, a playlist of sing-along anthems and a backseat cooler overflowing with snacks, they chase sunsets and roadside attractions. Along the way, they battle over which fast food drive-through reigns supreme.
During the course, the road itself becomes a canvas for memories — long drives filled with laughter, random bursts of deep philosophical reflection and the thrill of an unscheduled detour that somehow turns into a three-hour adventure. It’s not about the destination — it’s about the five-minute stretches of silence where you realize you have no idea where you are.
