I consider myself to be a professional beach-goer. Growing up on the South Shore of Long Island, the sound of the waves crashing on the ocean is as familiar as the laugh of your best friend. It's just in your blood. When I was little, my parents had a cabana in a popular Atlantic Beach club. I loved it. For people who don't know what a cabana is, picture a stable, but with a mini-fridge, shelves, cabinets, changing rooms, sometimes a bathroom and maybe even a t.v. It was like a summer house for those of us who didn't have an actual summer house. Eventually my parents gave up the cabana, but every summer I would still manage to frolic at the beach. Things became complicated when my friends and I wanted to go the beach but our parents were at work. This began around 8th grade and continued until we finally got our licenses. So, we learned how to take the bus to Long Beach. This was no easy task, considering 9 times out of 10 we missed the connecting bus that would take us down to Malibu Beach near Point Lookout. So we would wait....and wait. Since getting to the beach was such an ordeal, we would stay for 8 to 10 hours at a time. I kid you not. I think once our parents realized we were safe and capable of managing public transport on our own, they figured out ways to avoid making the 20 minute drive to get us. They loved us, but they had other things to do. Keep in mind, this was pre-cell phones. We had quarters for pay phones. (FYI Lainey's mom was a teacher, so she would chauffeur us around whenever she could. She deserves props. They also had a cabana, as did Molly, which was awesome because you could sleep in it. Another friend of ours allegedly had a cabana since the beginning of time, which we only now, in our 30's, use).
The point is, I know how to do the beach thing. Others unfortunately do not. Let me give you an example, which is one of my biggest pet peeves. Placement. There is no need to sit on top of another person at the beach, unless it is 200 degrees and a mass exodus has taken place to the ocean. This woman named Debbie (I have been going to the same beach for 8 years...I know names, faces, and life stories from snippets of convo) hates when people cramp her space. She gets up and pulls her big-ass chair across the sand all the while making a stink. (SIDE NOTE: Debbie has worn the same bathing suit for 8 years...every day. It is black with a sheer panel in the middle. She is also single, never married, no kids and has one bad date after the next. It is not my business (she is a loud talker as well, which is how I know this), but I kind of want to tell her that her mullet could be the reason why she has yet to meet the man of her dreams. ) Anyway, so the other day, I wake up from a nap (my mouth was definitely hanging wide open), and the landscape of my surroundings had changed. More people began arriving at the beach, however, only one person was on top of me.....YUP! You guessed it, mullet, i only own 1 bathing suit and am hopelessly single Debbie. This chick was fully violating her own rule!!!! I had 2 options: stay or do my best imitation of her and traipse my ass across the sand, huffing and puffing about peeps who sit too close to others on the beach. Instead, I stayed. I am so mature.
So, as the official beach season of the 2009 comes to a close, remember, don't sit on top of others. You can always differentiate the professionals from the novices while basking in the sun and breathing in that sea air.
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