Although I grew up in Western Massachusetts (where the spring air is refreshed with the ever present aroma of lilacs and cow dookie, I mean, it is farm country), we did manage to make our annual pilgrimages to the shores of the Atlantic. Whether it was Cape Cod, Hampton Beach, or Ogunquit, it usually meant several things. One, we ate. A lot. Clams, haddock, halibut, the ever present lobster, you name it, we scoffed it down. Two, we spent money on genuine New England beach souvenirs made in Taiwan or China. And third, we hit the beach. This also meant two more things. One, we would usually get sunburned. This of course was painful, although, as a young boy it did create it's own amusement when you would start peeling. The challenge, as a kid, was to see how large a piece of yourself you could remove without causing blood loss, and to hopefully cause the other kid with the sensitive stomach to expel whatever he or she had eaten in the last two to three meals. The second thing was to jump into the Atlantic, and see how fast you would turn blue. The Cape wasn't too bad, as we spent most of our time in Nantucket Sound. Although it was cold, you could usually get used to it. Ogunquit, Maine however, was notorious for turning you so cold so fast that peeing ice cubes was an inevitable byproduct of the daily beach excursion. But hey, we were young and stupid. And after spending 50 weeks out of the year surrounded by farm animals, getting to the shore was a rare and glorious way to relax, hear our parents complain about the prices of everything that we desperately had to have or our lives would end, and to yes, overeat and cause ourselves various injuries on the beach.
And then I moved to Florida. Now, in Pensacola many of the same thing happen. You can of course, get horribly sunburned. This is made worse by the wonderful snow white sand that we are blessed with; since sun reflects off of white, it will of course aim for anything that is remotely darker. That means yours truly. In Massachusetts, we actually used to put baby oil on to increase the possibility that we could get a reasonable tan. If you do that in Florida, you are guaranteed to deep fry to a color quite darker than the fish that you'll be eating later that night. And your skin will look like it has the same breading. So sunscreen is a must. And you will also buy some wonderful Genuine Florida souvenirs. Made in Taiwan or China. And you will eat. A lot. Crabs, shrimp, red snapper (crap, now I'm hungry), it is all available for the feasting. But there is one major and wonderful difference between the Great White North, and the Emerald Coast. The water. The glorious clear emerald green water. It is warm. You can dive into it and unless you hit some tourist on the way in, you will enter nirvana. And you can do it anytime over 8-9 months, instead of the 8-9 hours we have for warm weather up North. This creates some new and beautiful ways to torture your friends and family up North ("What? it's 38 up there? Wow, that's too bad. What am I doing? Drying off from surfing, and about to work on my tan. BWAHAHAHA!!!"). I so cherish this area. Why I waited until I had a middle-aged body to come here, I'll never know. But I can't worry about that now. There are shrimp to eat, waves to body surf (yes, I know some folks use boards, I like to get creative) and squeaky fine, white sand beaches to get apeelingly (yes, I purposely spelled it that way) sunburned on.
So, if you'll excuse me, the car is loaded with beach stuff, I got my trusty Gulf Island beach pass, and the shore awaits. As for you folks up north, you have my sympathies. And, just one more thing to say......BWAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!
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