After an interminably damp summer, beach weather finally arrived this month and I earnestly participated in my first “beach day.” I use quotation marks because I don’t think that two hours can honestly be claimed as a day. But my beach time was long enough to reach a few conclusions. I hereby posit that there are only three reasons for going to a beach:
-The beach in question is artificial and situated next to a topless pool, a swim-up blackjack table and a bar.
-You’re trying to signal a passing ship for rescue.
-You’re liberating France.
The only other possible rationale for beach-going is that you’re on vacation in the middle of winter, and the combination of sudden sunshine and tropical drinks induces a temporary euphoria that obscures the fact that you’re engaging in a completely asinine activity. Why did our country’s frontiersman forge west, battling starvation and disease? Because they were trying to get as far away from the beach as possible. It’s a tragic irony that their journey ended at another beach. The most iconic beach song ever, Jimmy Buffet’s “Margaritaville,” is about getting drunk because the beach is so annoying.
Considering that we all associate the desert with deprivation and misery, why then do we love a desert that happens to border an equally hostile environment, a vast tub of corrosive liquid filled with prehistoric predators, riptides, poisonous jellyfish, rogue waves, bloodthirsty pirates and frequently unsafe levels of doo-doo bacteria? If you want to save time without going to a beach, just throw a block of ice and a piranha in the toilet, then dip your feet while applying Banana Boat lotion with a random-orbit palm sander. Nonetheless, I know that many of you still insist on patronizing the beach, so in the spirit of public service, here are a few tips on how to best enjoy yourself.
Pick Your Spot
Unless you arrive at the crack of dawn, the beach will already be full when you get there. Thus you’ll need to weave amongst the existing beach patrons and inadvertently kick sand all over them, which may result in a severe beating from a leathery gentleman with a tattoo of the Hartford Whalers logo across his back. Once you find a place to set your towel, carefully position it so that sand doesn’t get on top. Then enjoy the 30 seconds until some other hapless nomad trudges past and sprays sand deep into the fibers of your towel, which now has the fluffy cosseting texture of a mangled chain-link fence.
Take A Walk
Initially, you’ll scald your feet on the sand, so you should put on your flip-flops, which will then immediately fling sand into the straps and begin abrading off your skin with each step. So ditch the flip flops and streak toward the water to cool your frying soles. Near the high tide mark, you’ll encounter seaweed and jagged shells, which alternately cause you to slip or lacerate your feet. Finally, you’ll reach the water, which, by virtue of warming in the sun all summer, is nearly 85 percent free of ice floes. With your feet in the water and the rest of you baking in the sun, enjoy the sensation of undergoing hypothermia and heatstroke simultaneously. Tired of having external testicles, or non-inverted boobs? Just wade a little deeper!
Things to Do
Some people think the beach is boring, but there’s actually a lot to do. For instance: Stare at cancer spots developing on your skin. Try to read, except the combination of sweat and/or sunblock will cause the ink to smear all over your hands (you could try a Kindle, but nobody likes to grab a sandy Kindle). Attempt to eat a snack while fending off advances from disease-ridden dump chickens, also known as seagulls. Construct a metaphor for the ultimate futility of your life, also known as a sandcastle. Fall asleep and wake up with a sunburn so severe that your entire immune system shuts down. Rent an umbrella or a beach chair, often for as little as two to three times what they would cost to buy in a store. Go bodysurfing and get your face smashed into the bottom beneath the maelstrom of a crashing wave. Lose your wedding ring in the water (I’ve done this). Alternately, if you’re not married, just throw $900 into the ocean. Get crapped on by a seagull (this happened to Heather). Play beach volleyball, and dive for a ball such that you whiplash your head into the sand and nearly knock yourself out. Take your top off. Please?
I’m only drawing on my own experiences here, but if you’re creative you can probably think of even more things to do at the beach. Like, if you’re lying on your back, try lying on your stomach. The possibilities are endless. But the summer isn’t—so I’ll see you at the beach! By which I mean, I’ll see you as I drive past it.