We skipped a wild spring break in Miami Beach. Instead, we had a blast relaxing with retirees in Florida an hour north.

• Last year, my friends and I spent our spring break an hour north of the madness of Miami Beach.
• We embraced a "coastal grandmother" aesthetic and hung out with retirees.
• Although untraditional for college students, we had fun relaxing and avoiding the Miami party scene

Bright and early on a Saturday morning last March, I boarded a flight southbound to Florida with hundreds of other college students.

As a group, we screamed "spring break" — wearing various cuts and colors of college gear and the joyous expressions that can only be attributed to a week away from school stress.

But when we reached the Sunshine State and most of my fellow passengers headed to Miami Beach for drinking and debauchery, my friends and I didn't go with them.

Instead, we headed about an hour north of Miami toward the quiet oceanside community Hillsboro Beach for our own relaxing spring break.

We'd chosen to skip the ragers and bad behavior associated with spring break, especially spring break in Miami. This year, Miami Beach even launched a campaign "breaking up" with spring-break tourists and enforcing new restrictions to crack down on destructive partying.

But we went to a party school and saw plenty of that back home. Now, we were ready to relax with retirees on our last spring break before college graduation.

We leaned into the laid-back vibes for our whole trip and made friends with retirees

The small beach town we stayed in was mostly populated by retirees in their 60s. Even fellow tourists we saw visiting the local businesses rarely seemed to be under 50 years old.

So, when my friends and I showed up to check into our hotel, we received more than a few confused glances.

We got "Are you sure you're in the right place?" and "Are you heading to Miami?" more than once, but when we explained our plan for a relaxing getaway, we were often met with understanding.

We embraced the "coastal grandmother" aesthetic with our white linen shirts and floppy beach hats and spent hours reading on the beach.

When we weren't soaking up the sun, we played card games and Bananagrams and ventured into the (very tame) downtown area for dinner.

Since we slept steps away from a quiet beach, we traded in late, hungover mornings for early alarms to watch the sunrise.

On many of these mornings, we were joined by a new friend: a retired woman who was traveling alone and missing her grandkids back home.

We enjoyed the sunrises together and watched local conservation workers on ATVs protecting hatching sea turtles as they migrated to the water.

If we were hungover on a crowded Miami Beach, we would've missed out on forming this unlikely friendship that crossed generational divides.

Throughout our trip, we spent time with many kind, older tourists and hospitality workers. Once they realized we weren't obnoxious, havoc-wreaking spring breakers, they were more than willing to share their time and stories with us.

By the time I headed home, I knew we'd made the right choice

After a week in our little slice of heaven, it was time to head back.

In our Uber to the airport at 5 a.m., our driver told us he'd come straight from a night of driving around Miami partygoers — and he had horror stories.

He told us he was surprised by our choice for an alternative spring break, but he understood. He'd seen many arrests, sick students, and lost young people in his spring-break driving career.

When we boarded our plane north, we were reunited with our peers, who had the clammy, tired looks only a hangover can bring.

Reinvigorated from our week of R&R, my friends and I listened to their wild tales from Miami while exchanging knowing glances: We'd made the right choice.

Our spring break perhaps wasn't traditional for college kids, but it was just what we needed.