August 24: Life's a Beach

A light breeze grazes my cheek. All is silent yet deafening. The sound of civilization is drowned by the crashing, foaming, salty presence of the Pacific. On top, the ground is unbearably hot on my bare feet, but just below the soft surface, the infinite grains of gray sand form a light hold on my feet. It makes its way in between each toe and fills the tiny gaps between toe and nail. Unlike its upstairs neighbor, it's warm and welcoming; like a soft towel retrieved from a dryer. The cool, salty breeze. The soundtrack of thunderous tranquility. The uninterrupted warmth of sand. I'm not a fan.

I don't understand the obsession people have with the beach. I like the idea of the beach, but the actual visit is never as enjoyable as I had pictured it to be. What is it? Water and a whole lot of sand. Oh and the crowds. How could I forget about the crowds? That's it. Why is that so great?

The water is way too cold. I have never been to the beach when the weather is hot enough to warrant jumping into sixty degree waves for very long. Granted, whenever my family took trips to the beach, we always got there between nine and ten o'clock in the morning; not exactly at the climax of the sun's day. Still, even when we were getting ready to leave at one in the afternoon, it wasn't hot enough to stay in the water for more than fifteen minutes without freezing to death.

"You have to shuffle your feet." Have you ever been on your way to meet the waves, looked down, and seen a stingray swimming by your bare feet? I have, and it wasn't exactly something I enjoyed. I don't know how bad it hurts, but I don't intend on finding out. Call me crazy, but I don't have any desire to experience a golden shower after a chance encounter with a jellyfish either.

A mouthful of salty aftertaste, a ocean floor of enemies, and hypothermia are a few reasons to stay away, but its the sand I can't stand. Aside from the fact that it's impossible to walk to the boardwalk in the afternoon without some sort of protection for your feet, sand is a complete nightmare. You simply cannot take a trip to the beach without coming home with a lifetime supply of the grainy and obtrusive stuff. Upon first arriving, I would always hesitate before kicking off my sandals because once you plop down on that blanket, the sand has won. Try hard as you might and that blanket always ends up covered in it. I don't know why people even bring one. We might as well just sit right on the ground because you can't keep the sand away.

Before getting into the car to come home after a trip to the coast, my family would always drop our belongings on the grass in the parking lot and wipe everything down. Legs, arms, backs, ice chests, chairs, everything. We would then stand downwind and shake the hell out of our towels. Sure, we got most of the sand, but to get all of it would be impossible. Weeks later, I would still find sand in my ears and under my nails.

Like I stated above, my family was always one of the first groups to arrive. A trip to the beach and a pink box of Rose's Donuts simply go hand in hand. None of this barbecue and beach nonsense. The beach was always a morning activity for my family. If you go at any other point in the day, the crowds are insane. No parking. You get the sand no matter when you go, but go in the afternoon and you have to put up with punk kids running by and kicking clouds of dust in your eyes. Like getting hit in the face by a Frisbee or a paddle ball? Arrive late and you'll get your wish.

Don't get me wrong here. One of my favorite things to do is to walk to the end of the pier in Seal Beach after a machaca meal at Taco Surf. I had some of my best conversations with my dad while walking to the pier on beach trips. The idea of a warm day at the beach is fantastic. Actually going and having to worry about sea life, icy water, sand invasions, and the crowds? Not so much.