It all began two weeks ago.

(For those of you who remember, that was spring break.)

After breaking several land speed records for writing papers and taking tests the week before vacation, I decided there was no better way to relax than taking a long drive.

Make that an eight-hour drive to Southern California.

The week's events consisted of riding roller coasters, getting drenched by Shamu, getting drenched by the rain, and sleeping less than five hours a night for six consecutive days while maintaining a steady diet of french fries, ice cream and cinnamon-covered churros.

After another eight hours in the car, it hit me.

I was sick.

Being sick just isn't as fun as it used to be.

I remember when even the tiniest stomach cramp would render an official OK from Mom to stay home from school.

"Don't you want to get up today, honey?" she would ask.

In my meekest, most close-to-death whisper, I'd say, "No, I don't feel good."

"What is it? Your head?" she'd ask, and almost immediately follow the question with a cold palm on my forehead.

"No, not really."

"Is it your tummy?"

"Yes," I'd gasp, followed by a brief moan.

"I kind of hurt all over," I'd add, to make my symptoms as unspecific as possible.

"Oh, and I think I might throw up."

That always clinched it.

"Well, I think maybe you should stay home from school today," she would say, breathing the most poetic words to a kid's ears.

Freedom at last!

I knew I could look forward to many uninterrupted hours of quality television - the cartoons I always missed, "The Price is Right" and at least two straight hours of "I Love Lucy."

All this entertainment combined with chicken noodle soup and ginger ale - what more could I ask for?

The minute I got to college, that all changed.

Suddenly, I'm drugging myself on NyQuil, Tylenol, three gallons of orange juice and any other home remedy I can think of so I can go to school.

Missing a test doesn't get you out of it anymore.

They just come back a week later and give you one that's 20 times more difficult, since you were so irresponsible as to get sick on a test day.

Then you have to document the illness with a doctor's note, X-ray, CAT scan, anything to prove you weren't just sitting at home watching "The Price is Right."

Being sick has simply lost its zing.

I think instead of driving to California for my next vacation, I'll get my pillow and blanket and camp out on the living room sofa, then watch hours of "I Love Lucy" and "The Price is Right" while consuming large amounts of chicken noodle soup and ginger ale.

Amanda Hunt is features editor of the Arizona Daily Wildcat. Her column appears every other Friday.